Tuesday, December 13, 2011
and as a kind of 'thank you' to our instructor for teaching us and passing along all kinds of knowledge, every year our club gets him a christmas present. one year we got him some nice tea, along with a nice tea set. another year we got him some nice training weapons. this year we gave him a nice set of kendo armor and some associated gear. but this year i wanted to do something else, something a little more personal. now granted, i'm not skilled at making things, and i don't have a lot of money to spend on lavish gifts, so i wrote him a poem. it's about things i've learned through the years, not techniques or drills, but more philosophical things i guess, more along the lines of life lessons.
face your life head on, straight
backed, controlled, and proud.
only raise fist in defense,
never hate nor rage.
remember that fear does not mean weak,
running in the face of it does.
courage and bravery are both decisions
and it's up to you to choose.
step not from your holy ground
let no foe profane
and when you finally leave this world,
leave behind good name.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
my roommate caolan and i have imagineered another amazing burger. let me break this down for you
one half-pound patty
half pound of bacon
table spoon of butter (not just any butter mind you, but a highly specialized butter made by caolan and i. it was butter mixed with pure bacon grease. and garlic salt because we're out of regular salt)
bun made out of four regular buns.
i have dubbed it the Triple B, which might be the only thing i have ever capitalized on this blog. the Triple B of course stands for (bacon)buttery bacon burger. caolan further specialized his by creating a bacon frisco sauce. how he did this i will never know, his sorcerer ways are too far beyond my mortal understanding.
the patties themselves were cooked in the oven at 350 degrees for somewhere around 15 minutes i think. i lost track of the time because i was busy looking up bacon grease butter recipes, of which i found exactly zero. i have created bacon grease butter, this is my legacy. this is what i will be known for in history.
the main concern i had for this creation was whether or not the buns would hold up. after all we basically took a four bun thing and cut it in half to create the bun for the Triple B. it held up reasonably well, until i started dipping the Triple B into ketchup. i think the stress caused by picking it up and turning it over and doing the tango with it and all sorts of other dance moves/sports plays. it was then that the move called the Triple B division was created. the Triple B division is done by flipping the burger in half, and then in half again, creating a monstrosity known as the Triple B tower. caolan, using the unholy power that flows through his veins, was the first to master this technique. my attempt only brought shame to my family. i fully expect to be disowned for my transgressions.
pictures of the Triple B summoning process will be up tomorrow probably, i promise.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
hi guys it has been a long time please do not hate on me. i have written a bunch of poetries but this one is my favorite so far. this is the second draft, there is another revision in the works but i actually really like it where it's at right now. so without further ado here it is, i hope you enjoy it.Thoughts I Had While Flying Home
steamboat’s weight worth
of cicadas’ droning
drowning out whatever
my relative says. It’s not important
that the sun hangs low or
that the air is closer to a stew,
thick and bubbling with the scent of heat. I’m numb to it,
the vibrations of countless crystalline
wings blocking it all out
block out the sun
times this week I sat legs crossed
head back laughing while the grilling meat
told a sizzling tale, a
spiced up story begging to be
devoured by us eager meat eating listeners
days ago we sat while the artificial
stars on our vine hidden porch blinked in time with
their highborn brothers and sisters. And all I
could do was sit and watch, bourbon
in one hand, cigar in the other
redneck hick prick bastards
hollering that the South will rise again,
too full of cheap rotgut whiskey to realize
the South they want, She’s not ever coming back
She never really fell in the first place
No, she just changed, she just grew
into something a little less ugly