An American Werewolf in Tel Aviv

I'm Pretty Sure that Aaron Gordon Made Out with My Ex-Girlfriend

Most of 2014!

Allow my to send my regards…. from the SKY. I’m writing this from an airplane.* That’s what I meant when I said that I’m sending you my regards from the sky. If you didn’t get that. I’m in the middle seat, so I can’t get a great look out the window. But I still would like to give some sense of wearing this post is coming from, even if that involves a little bit of guesswork. Ok, so the flight from Dallas to Nashville is about two hours long. And, at the time of this writing, we’ve been on the plane for about 30 to 40 minutes. Beneath us seems to be a moderately sized city. I can’t see much of a concentration point, but it’s definitely a city, as a lot of smaller satellite towns are surrounding it. Again, I can’t be certain but… Hello from Little Rock, Arkansas!* Wow. Here I am. 5 miles above Little Rock, Arkansas, the place where my mother spent most of her young life. Waow. 40 years ago, my mother was trotting around this place on a pony, reading her favorite bible passages to the congregation at that church which doubles as a laundromat, and talking about her boy troubles to her best friend who was also a dog. (I’m not acquainted with my mom’s childhood. Those were all recalled details from Cold Sassy Tree).

Waaaow. Doesn’t that make you think about the passing of time? I sincerely hope that it does, as that's all the exposition i'm placing for my SEGUNDO YEAR IN REVIEW!  2014, baby! I can’t remember what I did last year. I think that last year I did the “Best of 2013,” and I allowed anything to fall under that umbrella. This year I’m going to broaden that even more by doing the “Most of 2014.” Basically these were the moments that made us (but probably just me) go “wow,” or “boom,” or “clap,” or “gabba gabba!” Could be a good thing or a bad thing. Not sure. (guy next to me just got up! have to write this paragraph quick before he gets back!) I’m writing this from a plane because I forgot my headphones, like an idiot, and I don’t have anything to do, and the guy beside me who isn’t my father just said “how fast do planes go? 200 miles per hour?” and I said “no,” and then he asked me to put water in a cup for him to feed his dog, and then he pulled a dog out of his suitcase, and I’m pretty sure the suitcase wasn’t meant for dogs. He keeps leaning over and telling me that our pilot is doing a really good job and that we have a really good pilot. Can pilots even be good? I just thought you were a pilot, and they all were equally good at being pilots. There's no way in hell that a passenger is capable of determining how good a pilot is.  So I have to work on something so he stops talking to me. 

But don’t let that lead you to believe that I’m just throwing this together! I’m excited! Without further ado Most of 2014!

1)   Snapchat making it so that you can move around and resize the emojis in your snapchats.

Snapchat did a lot of amazing things this year. Being able to send girls snap ca$h impulsively whenever they post a sexy snap story definitely changed my life this year. But that was nothing compared to how it felt when I first got to make a snapchat with the santa face emoji guy inside of my chimney all big. A) that was HILARIOUS and b) it will surely be the first of many steps to incorporate the magic of emoji into our daily lives. So much so that they begin to develop personalities of their own. Well, it’s the first step if you don’t count that guy who plays for the ATL Hawks who got a bunch emoji tattoos seared into his human body.

2)   Spotify x Uber. 

Number 2 kinda goes hand in hand with number 1. 2014 was the first year that I had to ask myself a very concerning question, and that question was, “Are all of my apps hanging out without me?” The Spotify and Uber collaboration would certainly suggest that to be the case. Spotify x Uber flipped the script on 2014. Literally. Like, every conversation pre-collab went exactly like this. “Hi, where are you going?” “To the SHOW, MAN.” “Ok, man.” “So how long have you been an uber driver?”

And now those days gone. It has  been a nice way to assert my indie dominance upon the uber drivers of Nashville however… 3) The Death of Indie/The Temple of Mainstream

My year literally began with Chairlift and Grimes. They were the first thing I saw in 2014. They did the end-of-year countdown at this beach music festival thing I was at in Mexico on NYE 2013.  It was awesome, and it was easy to believe that they were kicking off a year of indie. Don’t cry, but there is no more indie. I don't know what happened, but indie died. This does not mean you do not have a home. You will always have a place to stay inside the warm embrace of Bruno Mars and Taylor Swift. They are your new mama and papa. My sister gave me 1989 on vinyl for Christmas. 

4) Church Indie Don’t you dare get this twisted. JACKSON HASN’T BEEN GOING TO CHURCH. Let that be clear. But, I still have been tuned into church culture. This one lunch place I like in Nashville apparently doubles as a college youth group place on Sundays. Also, I walk by Belmont all the time, which is a Christian college in Nashville. College Youth Groups (CYG) have an aesthetic all to its own, just as High School Youth Groups (HSYG) do. HSYGs kind of all have that “past vision of the future” look. Y’know, like they have chairs that are brightly coloured, and very angular, and are not very comfortable? And there’s a ping pong table, and whatever iteration of the Xbox game out in the previous generation. This is not Church Indie. Well, I need to be careful in describing the Church Indie of College Youth Groups. Because it’s going to sound like I’m talking about “hipsters,” which I’m pretty sure isn’t a thing anymore. Girls in CYGs wear hats like Stevie Nicks wears,  And boys in CYGs either have beards, or they have blue eyes and no beard. But if you don’t have blue eyes, you have a beard. And if you have blue eyes, you wear a baseball shirt, and cut off jeans, kinda like a hardcore kid, but it’s still an aesthetic all to its own. It could easily be mistaken as the dead “hipster” archetype, but no. It’s unique. College Youth Groups should be applauded for shoehorning an indie all to their own. A church indie. Church Indie is risen. Despite the fact that CYGs look different on the exterior from HSYGs, both ranks are still filled with hot girls and ugly boys.

5) Lone Booby I’m probably not going to be able to get the link in here that I need. But basically there was some Saint Lauren collection this year that blew. Me. Away. Honestly, this should probably be above Church Indie, but whatever. I don’t know what the garment was called, but basically it was this big cape, with a corset-looking thing underneath it. And if you stood with your arms straight, the cape would cover you completely, and just your head would stick out. But if you lifted your arms, the cape would raise like curtains, and you would see the corset underneath, which was a nice looking thing, but there is something amazing about the corset. There is an opening cut into it so that it reveals your left breast! And thus, Lone Booby was born. I’m still too blown away to think about the connotations of Lone Booby. What it could do to society. But I hope it catches on. I would imagine that there is a lot of power in knowing that you could reveal just a singular booby at any given time. And why just the one booby? Why the left booby? I know not. I would encourage my readers at home, of all genders, to bring Lone Booby into their wardrobes. You don’t need to be among the elite to wear Lone Booby. You can make Lone Booby out a t-shirt. 6) Commons Cup Victory Sweet three-pete. All my life, I’ve been three-peteing. In high school, my football team (I wasn’t on it) one the state championship three years in a row. Threepete. I predicted the female winner of our yearbook’s annual “Senior Most Attractive” three years in a frickin row. Threepete. Our high school baseball team won the state championship two years in a row, which our principal proclaimed a “two-pete,” even though that’s really just a “repeat,” but whatever. None of that compares to the glory of bringing the Commons Cup back to North House for the third goddamn time.  I don’t have blankets. The glory that burns inside of my core is the only warmth I need. I’ll never get married. Too much glory. Threepete. North House. 

7) Dancing Skeletons I haven’t read the books, so maybe I don’t know what’s going on, but Game of Thrones, the TV show, has just not been making the right moves. That last episode physically hurt me. There were literally people who could throw fireballs. That kid who showed up out of nowhere, who apparently was like super good friends with Bran got killed. And, like, literally the first thing Bran asks the Crowman following that gruesome death is “am I going to be able to walk again?” My mouth was literally gaping because I thought that was so stupid. I could hardly contain myself when that stupidity was surpassed by the oracle bird’s response. “No, but you will fly.” I swear to God, if Bran grows wings, I’m never watching Game of Thrones ever again. The only way they could possibly execute Bran and flight in a way with any dignity at all would be by having him flap his arms like a bird and having that cause him to fly. Honestly, I expected those Tales from the Crypt skeletons to start dancing. George RR Martin’s nerd brain is finally getting the best of us (those who haven’t read the books). 

8) Nick Jonas Pics

Just made me think about a lot of stuff, man. Age. Double standards. Gender roles. “All About that Bass.” It’s all there. 9) Liza’s Guitar Picks my sister got me guitar picks with my previous twitter prof (the one with the grad cap. Please say you know what I’m talking about) printed on it.  On the back it said “happy birthday, Jaxie.” earlier this year, I had considered dropping the “jaxie.” It’s a nickname, and it caught on in a way that I believe to be organic. But I was worried that people only knew about Jaxie and not the JACKSON PARKER who lied underneath these tweets and profile pictures. Eliza’s gift showed me that my brand has stretched too far. I’ve made my bed, and I’m lying in it, for better or for worse. 10) Ladies and Gentlemen, Arcade Fiyah

Not to sound like the person who tells you that their favorite book is Perks of Being a Wallflower and then says “but it’s for a different reason,” but I kinda had a nervous breakdown at the Arcade Fiyah concert. It was really cool and I dressed up in a tux (which cost so much stupid money I’m an idiot) and put facepaint on. But I just became so overwhelmed by my emotions, that I ended up crying hard enough that I ended up leaving my PRIMO spot in the MÓSH PIT to find my parents in the back of the crowd. I went back into the crowd later. During the closer, “Wake Up,” the crowd got a little bit too transposed. Everyone started touching everyone. This one girl grabbed my shoulders and tried to look me in the face so we could sing the words to each other (stupid) but I actually don’t know any of the words to that song, so she left me alone. 11) Red Beard I forgot my razor. I've gone 6 days without shaving, which is the longest I've ever gone without shaving. My beard hair is red. Our bodies are enigmas.  I think that’s it! I might add more things to the “Most of 2014” list throughout 2015! 2014! A very intense year. My heart broke 1,000 times this year, but it seemed like everyone else’s broke 1,000,000 times. Hopefully this means that I’ll have some extra heart to share for everyone in 2015! *I’m actually going to post this from my grandmother’s wifi, as I’m not gonna cough up sweet dough on airplane wifi *holy shit. The pilot just said that we’re flying above Little Rock right now. I was right!!!! Good sign for 2015!!* *as you may be able to tell, I can’t use footnotes on Tumblr, so I’m just having to use asterisks. Hopefully you can keep all of these straight. 

And then suddenly my semester goals became "bone the uber driver with the tesla".

A Very, Very Small Bug

took a nose dive into my Americano today. I didn’t try to fish it out with a spoon. I didn’t try to sip around it. I allowed myself to swallow it whole. 

Mirror Fear

  I actually do think that age doesn’t really have to be anything other than a number. Aging can't actually be very much about the involuntary turns our skin and immune systems decide to take throughout our lifetime. I would argue that aging is a byproduct of circumstances and situations we find ourselves in. As we live longer, the likelihood of your encountering Situation X increases. And let’s just say that Situation X is going to put 5 years on your chest. And avoiding Situation X allows you to maintain your present status quo for a while longer. I realize that’s confusing. FORTUNATELY FOR YOU LUCKY BASTARDS, I have a topical analogy.

  Allow me to take you back to 2008. I am pitted in the painful crux of my youth as a 12 year old 7th grader. There is this girl a year beneath me who I did not know. However, she rides the bus with my frickin girlfriend. Yeah, that’s right. My girlfriend. And she’s hot too. (She’s a Kappa now! Crazy stuff!) This 6th grader is talking to my GIRLFRIEND (hummina hummina) about me. And she tells my girf that she really wants to blow me. Isn’t that crazy? She never blew me tho. Fast forward to today. The very same girl who wanted to blow me just shows up in an article on azcentral.com. Apparently she got arrested for hosting some sort of rave thingy in her backyard and distributing ecstasy there??? Doesn’t that make you sad????? This girl was younger than me, chronologically speaking. But she was always older than me. Like, talking about blowies as a 7th grader was so beyond me. Like, I’m in college now, and I’m still not comfortable talking about that. Something happened to her (parental problems? sexual education? the fucking media!?!?) in her youth that put those mature ideas in her head. I don’t know how much time she’s going to be spending in the big house, but I’d imagine that she’ll be somewhere around 70 in experience years by the time she gets out. If everything goes according to plan for me, I should still be a 9 year old by that time. Hopefully I’ve explained my beliefs, in regards to age, clearly. For better or for worse, and I think for the better, my relationship with the clock has been a positive one. I don’t fear my age number. This has allowed me to carry out an unbridled love affair with my birthday, March 8th, for a little over 19 years now. I will say, I do have some apprehensions about my 20th birthday. I love my birthday so much, that I can’t find myself to resent that date. Yet the idea of leaving my teenage years behind worries me. I don’t guess it has to really mean anything though. I’m also fortunate that youth is so in vogue. SNL just signed a 20 year old to its cast this season. Lorde is one of the most popular performers in the world, probably. There are middle schoolers on Vine making more money than that guy in Sun Kil Moon. I think that I should be able to be a 20 year old who acts like a 15 year old without turning any heads. I guess it sort of feels like I’m changing my area code, more than anything else. I’ll always rep Arizona, and it would be nice to keep the 480 area code, but if AT&T makes me change it, there’s not really much I can do about it. If anything, I just have to rep the 480 harder than I did before, y'know??? Ok, but here's the thing. One thing about me that is definitely not unique is that I like to be thought of as a unique person. I don't like it when people say that I'm just like this one person they know. When someone does something that I find myself doing a lot, I try to stop doing that thing. This person I know from high school - I think her name is Kate Chan, or something - texted me yesterday and told me that she met this person who walked the same way as me, and I didn't like that. I am a believer that there is a certain spot in this universe specifically designated for Jackson Parker, and I don't want some other spazz to fill it. I AM INIMITABLE. (Note: my friend, hollis, told me that both Andy Warhol and Dane DeHann remind him of me. so, like, obviously that's totally fine with me. but others have to remind you of me. and they have to be famous and fabulous. i don't want me to remind you of others. especially if they are ugly and off-putting.)

Or... so I thought.

I got to Bongo Java a fair amount. I like to make it seem like there are reasons for that, but there really aren't. Like, Frothy Monkey (hate that name) is only a little bit further than BJ, and it tastes like 500x better. That said, the people at Frothy Monkey are kinda mean.

  (TRANSCRIPT FROM RECENT FROTHY MONKEY PATRONAGE:

Jaxie: *orders* *sits down* *puts ipod headphones in* *minds own gatdamn business*

Waitress: *approaches nice boy, jaxie* Um, excuse me, sir. But either you can take your headphones out and listen to this mid-century French folk music recorded from a tin-can with the rest of your Nashville brethren or you can kindly GET THE FUUUUUUCK OUT OF HERE.)

  And I took my headphones out, so I could listen to the weird music and the table beside me have a conversation that equally dealt with Jack White and their favorite bible passages. That wasn't great. Also, their single-serving restroom aren't gender neutral, and it's like, are we living in the FUCKING Dark Ages?

  So I’ve been going back to Bongo Java. It works. I always give “to see myself at age 60” as one of my ideal three wishes whenever I’m so unfortunate as to be in a scenario that requires partaking in ice-breakers. I just want to see what I’ll look like. Like I said before, I can live however I like whenever I like, so I just have to hope that I don’t, like, catch leprosy, or something.

If I had written this two weeks ago, I would have told you how insane it was to see my 60 year old doppelganger. It really blew my mind. I ended up inflicting that enthusiasm upon my twitter feed and various groupmes. The attached picture is of that person. I know it doesn’t look a ton like me. But we’ve all seen pictures of ourselves in which we look a little bit different. Half of your appearance is in movement anyways. But, like, I don’t want to suggest that I have this unique style, but I definitely have looks that I like, ok? And this guy was wearing cut-off shorts with long socks and bucks. I used to wear that outfit, like, every day of high school. And he was wearing a nice collared shirt underneath a running jacket. I know I’m not the only person who does that, but like, I really like that look, and this guy was doing two different looks with which I have personal relationships, and that seems substantial to me, and it really messed with my head, and before I knew what I was doing I was in front of this guy asking him for a picture. I know that’s not normal behavior. I don’t do things like that very often. That I felt comfortable approaching the person under this context should speak to how moved I was by our similarities. Also his wife had this really good bohemian-but-not-dirty-and-still-hot thing going on. So that made me happy. If I wrote this two weeks ago, I would have written all of that, except I probably would have had to have used more cuss words and capital letters to communicate how much it blew my mind. But I’ve seen this guy 4 times since then, and now I don’t really care anymore. Like, I’ve come to terms that I’m living in this world with the 60 year old version of myself. And when I finally become the 60 year old version of myself, due to the nature of historical progression, I’ll be living in an even better world. And that world will probably have the 19 year old version of myself walking around somewhere. Hopefully the two of us are being chill. This is what I hope that version of myself does. I hope that he’s going to college. I hope that he goes on a lot of walks. And I hope that he lets himself walk through different neighborhoods on those walks. I hope that he sees lots of beautiful homes and wonders about the lives inside of them. That version of myself should spend time wondering about the new world’s lies about domesticity. He should try to wonder which ones are true and which ones are myths. And he should hopefully realize that there really isn’t much, if anything, that separates his life from that of an employed and dynamic parent’s life. Actually he can think about whatever he wants to think about. I just hope he walks by my house. And I hope he slows down and looks extra hard at my house, all while continuing to pass slowly by. I hope he hopes that my wife, children, and I walk out to greet him. And we will. And we’ll greet him and talk to him. And from then on, he’ll be invited to come over every Sunday night for dinner and we’ll help him with his homework, and maybe watch a movie, or something.

Back on Rocky Top Bottom              

             The third week of my second year in Nashville should historically be recognized as one of disguises. Honestly, disguise is probably not the word. “Disguising” and “hiding” are definitely almost totally listed as synonyms on thesaurus.com, or somewhere else, but I think there are important differences. I don’t think I’m wrong in thinking that there’s a practicality to disguise that doesn’t stick around when you begin to hide yourself. Like, a spy uses disguises. He (or she, or ze, or they) doesn’t use hiding. You only use hiding when you’re afraid. So, honestly, I probably used hiding a lot more than I used disguises this week.

            I really hope that paragraph was somewhat clear, because I have too many nerve-inducing topics to get out to keep that streak going. Ok, first of all, I was literally about to come to terms with some of this stuff but some very FREAKY-DEAKY SHIT just went down in Bongo Java, so I’m kinda wiggin out right now. I honestly can’t channel the way that I feel about it right now, so I’ll write about it tomorrow. Basically it has to do with seeing my 50 year-old doppelganger at Bongo Java, and asking him for a picture, and having a panic attack about it, and thinking about the importance of the self, and realizing that the Twilight Zone is real. I can’t get into it now. Stay tuned, I guess.

I’m somewhat more equipped to talk about Monday of this week. I had to deal with a lot of stuff over the course of, like, 8 freaking minutes. 

Ok, so this is what happened to me first. I was walking to my video art class (lalala), which was still a challenge for me, because for reasons that escape me, I’ve been having a really hard time finding the studio art building every time I’ve had class there, even though this was my third time going there. I have it under control now. Anyways, by this point, I’ve basically seen most of my friends/acquaintances/cohorts? on campus. Like, I haven’t “caught up” with everyone yet, if I ever will, but I’ve had friendly interactions with most by this time. But I hadn’t seen my roommate, Pralhlad, from last year yet.             Well, so, I saw him for the first time as I was running late to this class. I was already a little nervous and rushed. Seeing Pralhlad after a while is always great because he always meets me with a super warm smile and handshake, which is always a nice contrast to his typically impatient and smelly demeanor. So, right off the bat, it was nice to see him. But here’s what I wasn’t expecting. I wasn’t expecting to see him wearing a sweater, jeans, and boots, because it was literally over 100 degrees out. And I was definitelynot expecting to see him with a GODDAMN ACOUSTIC GUITAR strapped around his back. But that’s what it was. Last year Pralhlad told me that he had never heard music before. Like,  I played music on my laptop and he said “what are these noises.” (No, I wasn’t listing to effing noise music either. It was fricking Madonna). And I said “this is music, Pralhlad.” And he said “I have never heard of music.” That was our conversation. It wasn’t like when a YouTuber comments “THIS ISNOT MUSIC, YOU IDIOTS. LED ZEP IS MUSIC.” on, like, a Drake video. He literally had never heard of music. The only thing he had ever heard a voice do was speak. And here he was with a guitar.

            So now I’m late for class, which didn’t bother me too much, cuz I was, like, a minute late for class, k? But having to deal with Yo Yo Arumagam did leave me a little scatterbrained.

            So, like, I went into my class. And it’s worth noting that like only 7 people are in this class. And I’m going to have to be making movies with all of these people. And it’s Video Art, so those movies are probably going to involve our genitalia in some way, shape, or form, or another. It’s a pretty chill class, and I could hear voices from the room as I walked down the hall. I could hear the class laughing and listening to an unfamiliar voice.

So I get in the class and it’s this frickin chick that I talked to on Tinder last year. This girl is pretty artistic, and she’s artistic in the way, like, “oh, my clothes are art too” sense. So I knew who she was immediately. I’m not going to front like I’m super memorable, but I probably am relatively memorable. Well, I entered the class and made eye contact with her immediately, because she was in the middle of the classroom, and she made eye contact with me, because I just entered the classroom, and that’s how stuff like that seems to go. And there probably would have been some way to play this off like a chill dude, but it didn’t occur to me at the moment. So I just gasped in a way that was surprisingly audible, pressed both of my palms to the wall behind me, and gaped.

           I’m not trying to be funny. I’m not trying to be cute. I was in that position for, oh, four seconds.

             I found my seat. This is a three hour class, so I didn’t breath for three straight hours. I asked the teacher if I could leave a couple of minutes early because I had a made up appointment. It was nice because I could just run once I got out of the class and no one would see my running.

I realize now that it’s hard to clean a climax out of a story that consists of little more than “this girl I spoke to on tinder is in my class.” It is worth mentioning that she began to, like, lambast society for stigmatizing online dating during the break of my second class with her later in the week, but, like. I don’t know. It was one of those things that put all of these nerves inside of me, so it kind of felt like a narrative. But maybe it wasn’t. But here’s the point.              The point is that there is this criminally insane kid who went to my high school. He has done something so goddamn idiotic that it’s actually inspiring. He bought this fucking school bus for, like, $200, and he’s just driving it around. I shouldn’t end my sentence with a preposition. Good thing I didn’t. The blankness between the “around” and the period at the end of that sentence is the space around which he drives his school bus. That’s the end of the story. His story is this. He bought a school bus, and now he drives it.

            So, he’s like, collecting disciples, or whatever the hell they want to be called. One of these people is a fully grown, adult mom and her child. Like, not a teen mom. That seems like it wouldn’t be crazy. But he’s driving around a fully-grown mom and her child. I should mention that this person asks to be called “Young Nebula.” I also need to thank him for doing such a good job of documenting his trip on facebook. Like, the other day, he made a status saying “who wants to go to Telluride?” and now he’s taking some idiot couple to Telluride. He also mentioned that he wants to go to either California or Peru next. Ignoring the geographical impossibilities of that desire, there’s something very inspiring about treating your next global destination with the same amount as respect of choosing which coffee place to patronize.

            It was his birthday the other day. I wrote “Happy birthday, Young Nebula! Bring the bus to Nashville!” to be funny. It was funny. But, like, what if I just got on this bus. Like, why the hell shouldn’t I get on his bus? I don’t want to pretend like buying a school bus and driving it around is the most original idea ever. There are a bunch of people who just want to be dirty and think that hippies were inspiring and want to live like that despite the fact that that culture just can’t sustain itself anymore. No, his idea isn’t original, but he should be commended for avoiding the temptation of naming his bus “Furthest,” and not some variation of “The Magic School Bus.”

            Again. What if I just got on the bus? Why the hell shouldn’t I? I don’t know how to find most derivatives. What am I trying to do here? At this rate, I’m three years away from becoming a political scientist, whatever the hell that is. If he comes here with his bus, I’m, at most, a 3-week acid fest away from Cabo San Lucas.

           I won’t get on the bus. Honestly, I’m probably not biologically capable of feeling any more stress than I did when I walked into the classroom with my tender Tinder paramour. The only difference is that my anxiety could possibly produce something worth writing about on my frickin tumblr. 

smdh, bongo java

i have like three times as many followers as you on twitter. i'm willing to start retweeting you.  how does the sweet sound of $200 in gift cards and access to the staff restroom sound to you?

Perhaps one question we'll never know the answer to is,  "Why must bad things happen to good people?"

I'm not the first person to ask the question, and I certainly won't be the last.  Today was Vanderbilt's annual celebration of the Hindu holiday, Holi. For the uninitiated (me, prior to today), celebration of Holi consists of lots of colored powder shaving cream. Basically, it's like a youth rave, except with clubby Bhangra playing over the speakers. It was a ton of fun, and I posed for a lot of pictures. All of my smiles were legit and genuine, because I was having a legit, genuine good time. But, as it would turn out, some people don't give a shit about my smiley face.  Before I hopped in the shower to clean up (i could only be festive for so long), I snapped the attached picture of myself in the mirror. After I got out of the shower, I uploaded the picture to instagram. It got a lot of likes, but I'm not here to brag. As I was scrolling through my feed, I came across several post-Holi posts. I knew that I posed for several pictures (again, not here to brag), but I wasn't really expecting to see myself show up in any IGs.  But then, the extraordinary happened.  Look at the attached picture. The one above the one of me. Look at my friend, Alonzo, on the far left. Now look right above his right shoulder. The colors are blending, so it's a little difficult to tell, but what you will see is unmistakably MY SHOULDER.  That is right. I was hardcore cropped out of @vanderbiltadmissions' instagram. Shocking? Yes. Surprising? Not entirely.  This, of course, is just another episode in the longstanding series of shade/hate thrown my way from Vandy's Office of Undergraduate Admissions. Unfortunately, this just so happens to be the most egregious move they've pulled yet. When I got admitted to Vanderbilt, I truly thought that this whole rigamarole would be over. Applying to school is tough, and you kinda get treated like a bitch, but hey, you have to ride the wave. But after they finally give you the thumbs up or down in April, it seems like there's really nothing else they can make you do. Well, the Office of Undergraduate Admissions (OUGA) didn't feel comfortable letting us go. So what do they do? They provide a very nice tour guide service. Vandy Tour guides gets a ton of applicants, and I was one of them. I'd like to make it clear that I'm not trying to stink on the people that got Tour Guide. Those people are totally deserving, and I'm definitely not deserving, and those people are awesome, and I'm probably not that awesome. THAT SAID, it didn't come as much of a surprise when OUGA dumped me after the first round. I've been suspicious of that office's motives since I arrived here. But today, their vendetta against me revealed itself in much more visible terms. They mad cropped me out of their frickin insta. I was in that frickin' pic with Lo, Alissa, and Alonzo! Those are my frickin' friends, and vandy admissions frickin' cropped me out!!!!!!! The four of us became friends after the "Come Together" campaign, and Vandy Admissions found the perfect way to violate us/our message. They literally did the EXACT FRICKIN OPPOSITE OF COMING TOGETHER by croping me out.  Listen, I'm totally willing to move on from this. Would the extra bump in followers been nice? Sure, but I'm more than willing to let bygones be bygones. I'll definitely apply for Tour Guide again, and I'd never suggest to anyone that they shouldn't apply to Vandy. Part of me feels like calling for a boycott/mass unfollowing of @vanderbiltadmissions would be appropriate, but I'm an adult. I'm not going to do any of these things. I am especially not trying to suggest that Vanderbilt Admissions is filled with pussies.  I'm not saying that, so get that out of you mind right now.  Alls I'm asking is if someone wasn't a pussy, would they still crop me out of their instagram?

These are big questions. I can't be the one that answers them for you. Let's just anchor down and move on. 

On Playlist Curation

One of my biggest struggles at Bongo Java over the past 5 months has been accurately identifying the primary demographic here. I think a lot of people would say that the primary demographic (henceforth referred to by the term, “demo.” Please read a tv tropes article on media jargon if you can’t keep up) would be “hipster.” I’m quite confident in asserting that those people would be totally wrong. And I’m not saying I disagree with “hipster” as the main demo because I think that there are lots of subcategories within the hipster tag. I don’t. Even if I considered every stereotype and common departure from the hipster tag, I would still stand my ground here. I ALWAYS stand my ground. I’ve spent enough time griping about the riff raff that walk these halls. These are the riff raff that used to sit on the porch, loiter, scream about their favorite, stupid books, and smoke their cigarettes. Now that the porch is under construction, this riff raff has come INSIDE Bongo Java. Some of them are near me as I type. Nothing about their migration indoors has changed their behavior except for the fact these riff raff are now screaming about synth noises and made the transition to e-cigs. Bongo Java has a pretty large Nashville presence and they operate like a pretty standard business. That doesn’t mean they don’t stick to their roots. ALWAYS STICK TO YOUR ROOTS. It just means that they have to do certain things in the way of marketing. I’m going to bring it back to demos right now, so sit put. Even though I think that the fauna who occupy the Jav is ever-expanding, I still think it’s important to Bongo Java to hold on to its “hipster” tag. The easiest way to do this, of course, is through a strictly regimented playlist curation cycle. Before I go further, I don’t want any of this to read as though I’m throwing shade at the Jav. I’m not. I luv the Jav. But let’s be real. The only REAL distinction between coffee shops is in their playlists. Starbucks even has their own label imprint to insure that they maintain a distinct sound. A ballsy playlist gives your joint teeth, and people are going to give you props for that. I remember my first time at Bongo Java. They were playing all Weird Al songs. That’s super ballsy. It really shouldn’t be ballsy, because Weird Al is HILARIOUS and is a LEGEND, and who doesn’t want to laugh? But still. You know there’s just something there that makes a Weird Al playlist incredibly ballsy. It’s some vague, x-factor stuff that I can’t define. But BJ needs to appeal, and I get that. It makes sense that they’ve kinda gentrified their playlists recently. They’re on that unfamiliar-but-still-accessible shit right now. Like, I mean, I know a lot of the songs, but that’s because I’m a pussy that reads pitchfork on the daily. But I still know that LOTS of people aren’t going to be able to immediately identify a Twin Shadow deep-cut. But a lot of people know one or two Twin Shadow songs, or a song that sounds like it. And when you come to BJ for the first time and your hit with some catchy song that you feel like you know, but you really don’t, it’s going to excite you, because you think you're discovering something, even though people that talk about "discovering music" are HUGE p-words. You’re gonna come back for more. AND THATS THE KINDA MANIPULATIVE BS THAT IM PREACHING ABOUT. I’m not throwing shade at Twin Shadow. That dude is my Kiss-Level Eskimo Brother. Actually, I’m not complaining about the process. I actually like almost all of the the songs that are playing here. Sorry. I’m recanting everything. I just wanted to bring up that lots of companies have a position called “Playlist Curator,” and that’s like the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Like, playlist curators must think that they’re such bad asses. “Oh, la dee da dee, I’m a curator. I get to show people what GRIMES sounds like while they’re buying pants at Kenneth Cole. Does anyone want to stick a finger up my butt????” Like, I remember that James Murphy got hired to be a playlist curator for some store in France. Murph is obv my role model, and he’s chill. But shade to all other playlist curators. I’m getting way off topic. I really think I only wrote this post to say that Twin Shadow is pretty much my Eskimo brother and because I wanted to make that butt joke. In other news, I bought a beanie because IM AN ABSOLUTE MANIAC. I hope that identifying that fact on social media will make my demons go away, but it probably won’t. I look like a freak of nature in that beanie and I don’t want to talk about it. Also, I met this kid yesterday, and I’m forgetting his name, but I remember that it sounded like a prescription drug, which is actually really appropriate because he’s addicted to prescription drugs. Also, I sat at a two person table today, and there were tons of seats available in this place, but some guy still sat next to me. At first I thought it was weird, but it actually wasn’t at all. Also, TWO KIDS HAVE TOLD ME TO “keep it 100” today. I think it’s because I wore my nike windbreaker today. All I know is that I won’t let them down. Ok, I’m done now. I figured out my roommate situation next year. I’m gonna be living with Logan Keller, and we’re hyped. That said, I still know that my living routine is going to piss him off by the end of the year. So, if you see any single-room situations come up, don’t hesitate to inform me. Here’s what I’ve considered living in thus far, in an effort to not be living in Branseecombuh next year: 1) Dean Wcislo’s House 2) I could dig a hole and sleep in that 3) Utility closets 4) Rooms under Stairwells (think Harry Potter) 5) And my personal favorite, dressing like a woman and living in the girls dorm, Cole. Google “Bosom Buddies theme” for more details. KEEP IT 100

Ryan McKenney and Hannah Gacke: The Latte Lackies

Today, I bought "sun-dried tomatoes" from a guy on the side of the street that tried to act like he made these really great sun-dried tomatoes and they literally ended up tasting like dirt and spit. I also bought a cappuccino today because a guy told this girl that he was like flirting with, or something, in the Bongo Java line that he thought they were delicious. I don't know why I listened to a guy in a summer scarf in the first place, but that's besides the point. I also told someone yesterday that Led Zeppelin is a stupid band and it only exists to be licensed and put on t-shirts at Target and sold to middle schoolers and nerds that treat classic rock like a religion. It turns out that's just what Pink Floyd is for, because today I listened to "D'yer Mak'er" and literally my entire world has been turned upside down. I almost went and got those weird Led Zeppelin alien symbol things tattooed across my forehead.  Looking for the metaphor? It's that people get straight up high off on providing insight on that of which they literally have nothing even resembling a clue. Man, can I turn a prepositional phrase, or what? So many people do it that I think it stands to reason that everyone probably does it. I certainly do it, like pretty much always. Not right now, but like pretty much always. For more information, google "Jim Mora." Now that I've established my credibility as your writer/artiste, let's go to the next paragraph! Whether you like it or not, the race for Vanderbilt Student Government's future Presidential and Vice-Presidential roles has been in full swing all week. I've heard countless so-called hotshots galavanting around, acting like they know which way the wind blows when it comes to all things VSG. Yeah, I've only been here for a year, so if someone wants to call me out for being a galavanter, like, fine, whatever. That'd probably be a really weird accusation to make. That said, VSG is only a seven year old organization, so it's not like the people that are older than me are these geniuses with doctorates in VSG. One assertion about VSG that I'm comfortable and confidant in making without sounding like a total poser is that VSG has done an exceptional job of establishing plenty of programs that have legitimized VSG as an organization. It's also been restructured to a point that it is able to run as smoothly as possible. VSG does a lot of great things, but it's core purpose is to serve as a conduit between the student body and the administration. It is undeniably capable of doing that in its certain iteration, and a platform anchored around additional restructuring would just be a waste.  The student body isn't going to be best served when the only ideas that are acted upon come from VSG. The student body is best served by itself, and the multitude of non-VSG organizations on campus. Most people on campus are aware of that. Ryan McKenney and Hannah Gacke are definitely aware of that. A lot of student organizations probably don't want to become a part of VSG. What they want is the resources to accomplish as many of their goals as possible, and VSG is capable of distributing the resources that can make that happen. Straight up, there's no better person on campus to see this through than Hannah Gacke. She's the only person with AcFee experience on the election ballot. Student organizations need fat $tax to get things done, and Hannah is literally the only person that knows how to move those $tax around. There are a lot of very sick facts in that previous paragraph. It's also probably my most The-Man-respecting paragraph that has ever seen daylight on acampcounselor.tumblr.com, but it's important for you guys to know. I don't want to diminish the magnitude of those fat facts, but there's always something to be said about feelings. I'd be remiss to fail to mention all of the beautiful feelings that Ryan McKenney has provided me since my arrival in Nashville a little over 6 months ago. Ryan is the Deputy Director of First Year Relations, and he meets with all of us house presidents every week, and the only disservice he's ever given me is his refusal to divulge whichever product he uses to keep his hair looking OG Kennedy. But don't get it twisted. His roles as a Commons HR, Ingram Scholar, and VSG member has brought him in contact with countless students and faculty members, and I've never seen him keep his talents to himself. Ryan McKenney has already left an immeasurable impact on Vanderbilt's campus, and that impact will only expand with him as president. Also, he's gone to 17 Bob Dylan concerts, and that's the most legit thing I've ever heard.  I LEAVE YOU WITH AN ANECDOTE. I'm a bit of a gadabout. I'll be the first to admit it. I've seen many faces and I've seen many places. One night, my travels brought me to Vanderbilt's own Bransycombuh Quad. Now, I'd like to make it clear that I have absolutely no beouf with Bransycombuh or its peoples. That said, I mean, Bransycombuh is kiiiiinda a cold and desolate place devoid of any and all joy. So, I was wandering the halls of Bransycombuh, trying to return a wallet to someone that I didn't know. I found his wallet outside on Wyatt lawn. I was referred to his room by someone that knew him. Don't worry about that part of the story. Anyways, I took the elevator up with some very colorful members of the student body. They struck fear in the pits of my soul. I stumbled out of the elevator as quickly as I could. In a fearful stupor, I was clinging to the cold, brick walls for support, and before I knew it, I was lost in the deep machinations of Bransycombuh's long, dark corridors. It was kinda like that chapter in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in whence Chief falls asleep and sees all of the crazy robotic mutilations that take place underneath the ward. Well, anyways, I basically lost sight of the light. I came to terms with my new future, lost in the void. I collapsed to the floor and allowed the darkness to envelop me. Just as my eyes were about to shut for the final time, something caught my eye, a la Ven and Terra's flying Keyblade scene in Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep. A shining beacon was hanging in front of me on one of the few Bransycombuh's bulletin boards. It was a flyer suggesting that its readers apply to be an RA, and emblazoned on the front was my very own Ryan McKenney's winning grin and inviting eyes. I used the last of my energy to hightail it out of there, leaving the wallet at the front desk. I would never return.  Really and truly, Vanderbilt. The chance to vote for Ryan McKenney and Hannah Gacke is an opportunity, and it would be a waste not to take it. They are both incredible people, and it's a delight to know them as friends. Not only do I want to see the best people possible holding these very important roles, but I also want as many members of the student body to have the chance to befriend these people as I have. If you're reading this, I really wish that you would #cometogether with Ryan and Hannah and Tuesday, because it really will make for so many sick opportunities next year.  I'll get back to my mocha reviews and Man-fighting as soon as possible.  *fade out* *crew love plays*

The giggling spell was enough to get in the way of anything I was planning on doing. That said, I wasn’t going to do anything. But like any important day, IT WAS A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER DAY. But dammit if you didn’t do it to me again, Bongo Java. Listen, I’ve been through the OK Cupid rigmarole. I left the site jaded and liberated. I got profile visits from tons of people, but I only ever got a message from “bulbawhore73,” and I didn’t have the hutzpah to get involved in that mess. I only favorite one chick, and she was super into screamo, and she didn’t even fave me back!!! Other than that, the site was just filled to the brim with single teenage moms, which really made the whole thing a bigger bummer than it needed to be. But just because my experiences on the site were rocky, to say the least, should I be so cruel as to suggest that everyone else should find nothing but dead ends on the site, as well? Well, yeah, I was that cruel, but that was before I considered the possibility of the “others” on OK Cupid intersecting with my own life. And that’s what happened. I heard that girl giggle. It was one of those things where you could hear all of the nervousness/excitement/attempts to seem likable. They greeted with a hug and sat at the table right in front of mine. Like, I’m directly facing these people. They’re on the exact opposite side of my macbook. I’m gonna try to get a picture…. Ok, this picture is horrible. You can’t see the girl. I had to act like I was taking a snapchat of myself so they didn’t think I was takig a picture of them, so I stuck my tongue out at my camera, but I had the rear facing camera stuck out at myself. I can’t get a good read on the girl. I mean, she seems pretty, and she’s wearing coffee-date clothing. Probably an outfit she really likes, but not something that she’d “go out” in. I don’t know what this shit means.  She’s not doing much of the talking. I think she picked pu on the fact that this guy really likes answering questions about himself. The guy is good looking. I think he’s strong? But he’s like indie-strong. This guy is kinda indie, I think. I mean, I actually have no idea. He has a Belmont student ID (obvi), and he probably plays an instrument. Ok, I’m gonna have to break my narrative up here a little bit. I wanted to give a lot of setting and stuff, but these people keep talking and I’m hearing some stuff that is kinda crazy. Really, I wanted this to be cute, but it is NOT. It is DISGUSTING and FREAKY and this guy is actually a HORRIBLE PERSON. And I seriously promise that these things are actually being said. I’m not lying.  I mean, I’m probably going to be jumping around from what they’re talking about. I’m not a typist. I can’t actually keep a transcript of what they’re saying. You understand. “What made you visit my profile?” – girl “I’m an honest man. I won’t lie to you. I found you attractive.” – boy “I’m flattered. You’re nice looking also. Have you messaged other people on OKC?” – girl A CASUAL OBSERVER MIGHT GUESS THAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT OKLAHOMA CITY, BUT THIS WOULD BE A LIE. THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT OK CUPID I KNOW IT IN MY SOUL. “Do you have a girlfriend?” – girl “Ah, again my dedication to honesty betrays me!” DIE “I do. She lives in Florida, but we’re progressive in that we have an open relationship.” I KNOW this sounds like I’m making this up. I AM NOT making this up. I promise you so much. The girl says some stuff. She says she doesn’t care. She says “oh, well this isn’t a date… yet.” Which was really hard for me to comprehend, because it’s 4.00. It’s not like they can hookup after this… or can they? I’m new to the adult world. Does this stuff happen all around me without my knowing??? OH CRAP THE GUY JUST WENT TO THE BATHROOM AND WALKED BY ME. Was worried that he was going to see me attempting to transcribe their pitiful conversation, so I clicked to my chrome window, which of course was on a freaaaaaaking askreddit thread, so now I just look like a huge dong… He comes back and Umm she goes into her history, which was so boring that I forgot what she said. She keeps kinda laughing, cuz this guy is saying really awkward things. He definitely thinks he’s like proto-human. Like he probably says he doesn’t believe in “society’s social conventions” and he probably says other stupid things that I can’t think of, I just know they’re stupid. Like, a Larry David that isn’t funny and takes himself seriously. Oh, he just said he takes himself seriously. The girl says she thinks he was probably funny when he was little. He claims that he was hilarious when he was little. “When I was little, I was a skinny, white kid.” This much has remained unchanged. Then he just describes all of these things he used to do as a kid that made him funny, but they all just sound like a bunch of things that every person under 10 does. Ok, guys. I’m really having a hard time explaining the dynamic that’s going on in frot of me, but I feel like you all can figure it out. It’s just this guy and this girl. It’s just one of those guys that doesn’t know anything that thinks he’s figured life out at age 20. The girl didn’t talk much, so I don’t know her deal. And now they’re getting up and leaving, which means they were only with each other for like 30 minutes. I thiiiiink they hit it off. “Wow, it was so liberating to be forward with someone,” said the boy. I have no idea what was liberating about just sitting their and saying you were an avid reader over and over again. It’s not like he confessed anything about himself. He just verbally constructed and presented his self-perceieved image. Maybe it’s an image that he actually has for himself, or maybe it’s just his image that he likes to provide on dates, but like he gave no details on anything. He said many times that he loves politics, but he didn’t give a single opinion on anything. He’s PROBABLY a freaking liberal. I kept thinking that something poetic would come from this. Like, this intersection between the online and real world, or something about first impressions, or something about personality, or SOMETHING, but I’m pretty sure all it taught me is that white people are nutz. In other news, the kid that looks like Keith Urban is here for a second day in a row. I haven’t been getting coffee here very often recently, so he might be coming here a lot. Somebody find out if there are any coffee blogs about a 10 year old boy getting coffee for me. I have nothing else to say. I think my excitement over seeing a real life ok cupid meet up eclipsed my ability to glean any real meeting from it. I ripped one of my only pairs of jeans last night, so I’m gonna go to local honey and see if they have anything there…. Out.

Jaxie, the Mocha Boy, Alone in the Alcove

Back at cha! Thought it was time to do a more fully-fledged post. That said, my brain isn't really cooperating with me today, so this might be a little bouncy.  First things first. I'm back at Bongo Java. That might have been a given seeing as how I've been reviewing mocha art here, and pretty much only Bongo Java has mocha art worth noting. It goes without saying that I'm happy to be back. In honor of a new era in the relationship between the kid and Bongo Java, I'm know going to pepper in "da Bongo" as a term of endearment.

However, as with any new era, I have encountered a few new changes that have kinda upset me in a VERY BIG WAY. If you read the title, you'll notice that I am not currently "on the porch." The porch is under construction right now. Now, I'm actually ok with the porch construction. I'm always amazed by how quickly porch technology advances, and I'm glad to see that Bongo Java is playing their part to foment a sense of innovation. Also, it's cold as deez nutz outside, so I wouldn't be out there anyways.  Here's why I'm mad that the porch is gone: it's bringing the riff raff INSIDE da Bongo! It's very stressful to be in closed quarters with gutter punks, belmont dropouts, and actual dogs. They can't smoke cigs inside, but the odor follows them. But I found a new sitting area in the back of Bongo Java, which I'm referring to as an "alcove," though there's a very real chance that I'm not using the right term. It's actually quite nice back here.  Here's my only other problem with da Bongo right now. I think that they're doing a little bit of expansion in Nashville, which is great. But I think they're trying to make themselves a little bit more accessible to the masses. What I mean by that is that I think some upper-level management has asked that they start playing the "I Think That I'm Down With Indie Music, but I KNOW That I'm a Huge Pussy" playlist on Songza. When I first came here, I was literally stunned to find a place that was ballsy enough to have "Weird Al Night." They would play straight up Weird Al for like many consecutive hours. The other night they played the Against Me! Acoustic EP. Today they're playing Foster the People, the Bravery, the XX, the Killers, et al. Not that I have boeuf with those people, but I mean... BUT REALLY AND TRULY I am very hyphy to be back. I just need to make it clear that these people are the nicest people ever, and I never meant any harm ever! I'm still sorry! Also, there are some new additions behind the counter, and they seem like lovely people also.  In oooooother news, I have found my ticket to love. I deleted my OK Cupid account, despite an unbelievably successful run. But I just couldn't keep living with my eyes wide shut. Plus, I have no need for that website seeing as how I've found my ticket to love. I'll write about the ticket below.  Ok, so here it is. Ballet dancers are THE way to go. I'm saying "ballet dancers" because I'm not sure if "ballerinas" is PC anymore. Anyways, ballet dancers are like SUPER dedicated to their craft. Like, they're the most clearly cut example of what devotion even is. I mean, I don't really know much about ballet, but what dedication! Now, I'm just GUESSING that all that dedication lends itself to some romantic vulnerability. With that in mind, allow me to take you through my plan. I'd like to take a second and let you know ahead of time that this plan involves some behavior that "might resemble that of a legitimate stalker." Also, apologies to my friends that are reading this plan for a second (third?) time. I've been really enthusiastic about this. Here's the plan! 1) Go to Nashville Ballet. I don't know if it's good or not. I just know that it exists.  2) Buy the program, if they're selling one. Otherwise, I'm sure there's some sort of brochure, or something.  3) Flip to the "Company Dancers" page.  *here comes the scary stuff* 4) Look up the dancers on Facebook. 5) Find out where they hang out. 6) GO TO THAT PLACE.  7) Introduce myself.  8) Happily ever after. Ok, yeah. So love is definitely coming around. Glad to have that taken care of. Please don't mention this to whomever I happen to become listed as "engaged with" on Facebook. I'm playing these cards close to the chest, despite the fact that I'm presently writing about it.  I literally just tweeted this, so I feel a little skeevy putting it in here, but I'm going to anyways, b/c I think it's funny. Alright, so this is my SPRING 2014 FASHION LINE. It involves: -This shirt (http://images.uptilo.com/thescreamshop/9fa4507f-1d0f-4046-a0df-827a86f55553-tmp.jpg) -Pyrex shorts -Homemade knockoff Air Yeezys Make sure you cop that drop! Ummmmmmm, that's about that. I'm doing waltz practice with bona fide angel, Zoha. I'm really bad at it, which really doesn't bother me at all. I'm only doing it because I have to for some event thing. It's really become an unnecessary source of stress in my life.  Last night, our very dope RA, Maysa, put together a house event at the campus art gallery, Cohen. And, I'd like to make this clear, I HATE using the word "vibe," in any of its forms. It just seems like one of those words that chubby hipsters use. Like, y'know when people act like their high appreciation of a CD or a movie is so attached to whatever it is that they like that they themselves are a part of the work? Ok, yeah. Those people are losers, and those people use the word "vibe" without discretion. THAT SAID, I was just totally vibed out of my mind last night. The gallery is totally sick, and everything is made out of marble. There were people playing violins, and there were tons of hors d'oeuvres. I just got to keep going from tiny cakes to tiny cheeses. Cake to cheese. Cake to cheese. Cheese to cake! It was a big night for me.  wow ok ahahaha bongo java is currently playing Tool. I'll never doubt them again!

Mocha Art Review - January 24th, 2014 Devoted readers. Didn't want to let you guys think that I'd forgotten about you cuz that would not be true. This is but a small update, but an update nonetheless.  I thought it'd be a good idea for me to start posting art reviews, given that I am gifted with such a keen eye for these things. I was motivated to start doing these once I was presented with the coveted Palme D'or (https://twitter.com/JaxieParker/status/421733558185492480) by one of my favorite Bongo Java baristas the other day. It was such a beauty, but unfortunately, I ended up drinking it all before I could formulate any real thoughts. Before I get into it, I do want to ask you a question. When I make these posts with the pictures, I just select the photo thing in my tumblr dashboard, and I do all the writing part in the "caption" section of that picture. But I kinda feel like the writing is what I'm actually working on here. "Caption" seems a little too narrow a term for this line of work. In any case, let me know.  As you can see from the attached jpg, this is quite a beauty, and my iPhone 4 camera isn't doing the piece any favors. The guy that made this one is the guy with the cool red hair. He's a fan favorite, at least in my eyes. There's really not much to say about this foam art. That's not to suggest that it's unremarkable. On the contrary, I feel as though it speaks for itself. Just look at the picture for a second. Allow any words that flow through your head to become a projection on this caption in front of you.  Yeah, really not too much to say. Might add that I was particularly moved by the "heart" theme in the latte seeing as how Bongo Java was playing the against me! acoustic EP, which made my heart feel quite full. 

Overall, I'd say that this is an 8.5/10. Technically, it's pretty much flawless. I'd just like to see the Bongo Java people experiment with more controversial themes. A bomb left four people killed, and countless injured, outside a police station in Cairo today. Just something to think about! In other news, here's a funny thing that I saw this weekend. It's about a kid named Win Wang, and I really hope that he doesn't read this. It's a LIIIITLE hard to explain if you don't know the kid. But basically, he's a South Korean kid that's actually from South Korea. He's amazing at Starcraft, and he doesn't say hi to me when I say hi to him. So, I dunno. I don't want to say this about one of my dear constituents (i'm north house prez for those out of the loop), but he's kinda a massive dick.  Anyways, here's what happened. I returned to North House at about 2am on Saturday night. I was coming from downtown, where I did some karaoke, which might warrant a blog post of its own. Anyways, it's 2am. Not much is going on in the house. As I'm entering, Win is exiting the lobby. And he's about a step behind a girl. The fact that he was with a girl in the first place was amazing enough. But here's the thing. So the two of them are kinda slowly walking to the door, but the girl is about a step in front of him. Her hair is in her face, and I can hear faint, but definitely audible, wimpers/sobs coming from her. Win is kinda half-reaching for her, repeating "babe. babe. wait. come on, babe," with no inflection on any word in particular. He's just saying them. Finally, the girl gets to the door, with Win a foot behind her. She manages to say "no, no. that's ok," faintly, and between sobs. With that, she leaves North House. This is what Win does. Like, listen to this. Win stands at the door, and yells "Alright, dude! Have a chill night!" Like, what the fuck!!! I saw them later, and everything looked really normal. I don't know what happened.  ummmmmmmmmmmm ok, guys. peaaaace out. 

Jaxie's Year in Review

ok ok ok ok. man, guys. I really F'd it up this time. BIG TIME. This, as you know, is a blog, and it, as you know, is the end of the year. I should have been working on this MONTHS ago, but to hell with it. i'm making my year in review RIGHT NOW. damn the torpedoes, here it goes.  THE BEST OF 2013 1) very crazy year, so it would make sense to think of the craziest moment of the year as the defining one. but not in this case. the best bit of 2013 was also the most slept-on bit of 2013. your loss for not valuing it more when you could have. Best thing that happened in 2013 was Calc Camp - I'm Shmacked: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoLy-Eabm7o 2) the hot chick bands on pitchfork that don't like to be defined by their hotness or their gender. speedy ortiz, joanna gruesome, perfect pussy, savages, et al. 3) reflektor, DUH 4) darius on the europe trip. couple of moments that stick out. ummmmm. "when i was little, i would just pretend that i was playing video games in my head." (In italy) "maybe the wifi password is 'pizza.'" and his ongoing assertion that the very nice man that cut our hair in florence was actually a woman. 5) Le Switcheroo de Paris avec Monsieur Wifler 6) north house bringing home gold in knowledge bowl and kickball in the same day. it was so beautiful, that you almost forgot how many injuries we dealt out and how clearly biased towards us that the refs were. 7) Ryan McKenny (don't you DARE show him this. i swear to god NO ONE SHOW HIM THIS) 8) these pix: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=4087892414529&set=a.1250314596857.33036.1799262702&type=1&theater 

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=3070508418339&set=a.2502116968908.68528.1732490187&type=1&theater 9) bongo java roasting company, and all the pain you bring 10) getting mrs. stambres' cell phone number and her bully protection, a la Drillbit Taylor 11) getting ryan schreiber to litearlly stoop to my level, and engage in twitter beef 12) living in the same city as wynona judd 13) i know this fresh on my mind, so I'm probably not giving history due attention, but who am i if not someone prone to making hard and fast opinions? i'm willing to say that Jay Lusk's Christopher Dorner-esque tirade against BASIS Flagstaff speech and debate was the 13th best thing that happened in 2013. 14) falling in love with Anjanine patel at the BASIS Scottsdale valentine's dance. 15) falling in love with Enji Kim at the xx concert.  16) going to Tucamcari, NM w/ ben 17) the really nice nashville venues run by really horrible people (hi exit/in, hi mercy lounge) umm, that's all I can think of. basically, this year, barring the wisdom of horace greelye, I went east, over and over again. east to dallas, east to nashville, and east, to the top of some mountains in switzerland. i think it would have sucked if i saw it all as "learning opportunities" like every adult kept insisting, but since I didn't do that, it was all pretty tiiiiiite. be on the look out for 2014 jaxie. if my mom follows my christmas list instructions like I hope she does, you'll be seeing a MUCH darker wardrobe. 

ur just sad cuz i'm so funny DAYS NEVER END.

Today is a VERY exciting day in my life. I am THRILLED. Bouncing of walls. But enough about me. This should be an exciting day for YOU as well, because there’s currently a lot of moving and shaking going on for acampcounselor.tumblr.com First of all, I now know that my dad reads this blog….

I AM SO, SO SORRY. IT'S NOT ENOUGH, BUT PLZ READ MY NEW POST. I WILL MISS AND LOVE BONGO JAVA FOREVER. SORRY!

Today is a VERY exciting day in my life. I am THRILLED. Bouncing of walls. But enough about me. This should be an exciting day for YOU as well, because there’s currently a lot of moving and shaking going on for acampcounselor.tumblr.com First of all, I now know that my dad reads this blog….