Marco Salazar
Natural Ice
Buckets,
-LS^2
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
RIP Sam Kennedy
At some time last night, my brother's good friend Sam Kennedy took his own life. This is the 2nd suicide of someone I know (though have not been terribly close to) I've reported on this blog. Doesn't that seem like too many? Doesn't one seem like too many?
I didn't know Sam well, but he was always kind to me. I think he looked up to Marco a lot and because Marco and I look up to each other, Sam was happy to put his trust in us. He also had some amazing boots. I worry about the families and friends surrounding the situation, and obviously I'm most worried for Marco. I don't like this weighing on him, and I hope he finds a healthy system with which to deal with it and some good people to stick with.
I hope you're all well out there, y'all. Talk to someone before you hurt yourself.
Love,
-LS^2
I didn't know Sam well, but he was always kind to me. I think he looked up to Marco a lot and because Marco and I look up to each other, Sam was happy to put his trust in us. He also had some amazing boots. I worry about the families and friends surrounding the situation, and obviously I'm most worried for Marco. I don't like this weighing on him, and I hope he finds a healthy system with which to deal with it and some good people to stick with.
I hope you're all well out there, y'all. Talk to someone before you hurt yourself.
Love,
-LS^2
Goodnight, Sam.
Friday, January 10, 2014
"Tonight's About ME, Not Your F*ckin' Hip!"
It's Friday night, 4 minutes of 7:00. Am I the only one with a bottle of wine watching Van Halen interviews?
No?
Good.
-LS^2
No?
Good.
-LS^2
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
The Volume is Wheelie
I tend to be a homebody. At the moment, I am "sans employment" as I am plotting another Asian takeover in about a month. So this lack of a job means no money, plenty of freedom. But I suppose I generally just end up staying close to the hub. Not sure why...
So I'm at the library now, and I know why I don't come here for my solace too often. While there are books and humans who will assist you in taking these books home, the Hollywood Library on Ivar more resembles a bus station or soupless soup kitchen. Droves of the homeless settle in here to have loud conversations and panhandle. It's not terribly relaxing, and the employees-understandably-do not exhibit a heroic amount of patience, even when I approach them with my apologies for existing pre-caked on my face. It's the way of the big city, right?
I applied for a line of credit today from Wells Fargo. I haven't touched it yet, but it'll help my credit, which is already remarkable. Good thing, too, because very shortly I'm going to need some financial institution to loan me some money so I can get a head start on wherever I will be landing next month, whether that be Korea or Taiwan (it's gonna be Taiwan).
Cat's outta the bag! I'm going to Taiwan! Despite multiple job offers and secure positions offered in Korea and China, I'm taking what is easily the riskiest option. This will aid in my attempt to live a half-baked life until I die. I will ride a scooter, become a foreign movie star and be the most okay teacher the world has ever seen! And I'll get to see Zeus. Ryan. Zeus.
I want wings, dude. Me hungry.
Why are all these people making ridiculous noises? I suppose mental competence plays a role. I'm no hater, but rather just a naive library-goer. I owe this place $12, so I guess I don't have any more stake in these tables than the next guy. I should take care of that.
Oy.
Wandering gracefully,
LS^2
So I'm at the library now, and I know why I don't come here for my solace too often. While there are books and humans who will assist you in taking these books home, the Hollywood Library on Ivar more resembles a bus station or soupless soup kitchen. Droves of the homeless settle in here to have loud conversations and panhandle. It's not terribly relaxing, and the employees-understandably-do not exhibit a heroic amount of patience, even when I approach them with my apologies for existing pre-caked on my face. It's the way of the big city, right?
I applied for a line of credit today from Wells Fargo. I haven't touched it yet, but it'll help my credit, which is already remarkable. Good thing, too, because very shortly I'm going to need some financial institution to loan me some money so I can get a head start on wherever I will be landing next month, whether that be Korea or Taiwan (it's gonna be Taiwan).
Cat's outta the bag! I'm going to Taiwan! Despite multiple job offers and secure positions offered in Korea and China, I'm taking what is easily the riskiest option. This will aid in my attempt to live a half-baked life until I die. I will ride a scooter, become a foreign movie star and be the most okay teacher the world has ever seen! And I'll get to see Zeus. Ryan. Zeus.
I want wings, dude. Me hungry.
Why are all these people making ridiculous noises? I suppose mental competence plays a role. I'm no hater, but rather just a naive library-goer. I owe this place $12, so I guess I don't have any more stake in these tables than the next guy. I should take care of that.
Oy.
Wandering gracefully,
LS^2
Olga
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
We're All Infected
I stay home a lot. I go on walks, too, but I stay home a lot. Nowadays that means cleaning with Ryan, reading, making fruit smoothies. It gets old, man. So tonight I'm goin' to UCB to see some pupil comedy. If I had money, I'd get blackout drunk, too. But I don't. And it's a new year. And I don't actually wanna. Come on, now. That's the old me. Gimme a break.
Sometimes when I have sex (I haven't lately) or when I get really sick (I haven't lately), I start to hallucinate. Many times, it's a riddle of sorts I have to solve but is ultimately unsolvable. Past hallucinations include:
-reaching a mirage
-finding a way to sneak attack an opposing front-line in a ground war
-lowering a cheesy puff into a pinhole via cross-stitch string
-figuring out a language I've never spoken
-getting 3 kids dressed in black off of my driveway
I don't know where these come from or why my illness and love-making trigger such a cacophony of mental hyjinx in my mind. So it goes. I should do more field work. Lick more flowers and handrails.
Hire me, motherfuckers. I'm tired of waiting!
Profanity in a Can,
-LS^2
Sometimes when I have sex (I haven't lately) or when I get really sick (I haven't lately), I start to hallucinate. Many times, it's a riddle of sorts I have to solve but is ultimately unsolvable. Past hallucinations include:
-reaching a mirage
-finding a way to sneak attack an opposing front-line in a ground war
-lowering a cheesy puff into a pinhole via cross-stitch string
-figuring out a language I've never spoken
-getting 3 kids dressed in black off of my driveway
I don't know where these come from or why my illness and love-making trigger such a cacophony of mental hyjinx in my mind. So it goes. I should do more field work. Lick more flowers and handrails.
Hire me, motherfuckers. I'm tired of waiting!
Profanity in a Can,
-LS^2
Thursday, January 2, 2014
30 Seconds to Lars
It's the 2nd! I'd've happily lied and proclaimed "It's the 1st!" in at attempt to trick you, but you'd find out. You always do.
My body's so sore I walk like Frankenstein's little boy toy.
I had dinner with Tamar at Lala's. She's a wonderful. That's all you get.
I just took Slaughterhouse-Five from the library. There's a bar in Iowa City called The Foxhead inside of which many famous authors were rumored (and verified) to have spent time drinkin'. Kurt Vonnegut was one of them. He's sort of a darling of Iowa City. I used to live in the house that bordered his backyard. Anyway, the bathroom was covered in literary graffiti, and right above the toilet it said:
Vonnegut.
My body's so sore I walk like Frankenstein's little boy toy.
I had dinner with Tamar at Lala's. She's a wonderful. That's all you get.
I just took Slaughterhouse-Five from the library. There's a bar in Iowa City called The Foxhead inside of which many famous authors were rumored (and verified) to have spent time drinkin'. Kurt Vonnegut was one of them. He's sort of a darling of Iowa City. I used to live in the house that bordered his backyard. Anyway, the bathroom was covered in literary graffiti, and right above the toilet it said:
Vonnegut.
Vonnegut?
Vonnegut?!
FUCK Vonnegut!
PHILIP K. DICK!!!
Yeah? Well that's just, like, your opinion, man. But what the fuck do I care? I'm just Lucas. Lucas Salazar. Eat shit if you don't like it. Eat the shit from the toilet. At The Foxhead.
Okay, I'm'a read somethin' now. I got a few options. But no Philip K. Dick.
Bye bye!
-LS^2
This bar. A guy named Sully
offered to fight me here. I declined.
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