Damn Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter. They're both bitches. One heck of a book, The Golden Compass. Guess I should probubly read the next two. And I'm going to have to remember to thank a Special Someone who put me on to it.

In the mean time though: "But think of Adam and Eve as an imaginary number, like the square root of minus one: you can never see any concrete proof that it exists, but if you includ it in your equations, you can calculate all manner of things that couldn't be imagined without it."
-Lord Asriel, The Golden Compass, Chapter Twenty-One

Well, went to go see The Canterbury Tales, as put on by the Aquila Theatre Company. Their rendition was a modernization of Geoffrey Chaucer’s classic. It was a little brief, but pretty freaking sweet.
The first scene, The Knight’s Tale, didn’t really hold me. …I accidentally wandered off in thought…. But the rest of it was good.
In The Miller’s Tale, a hick wielding a shotgun and an XXX bottle eventually kills everyone, including his 16 year old wife in her mini skirt and tank top, while wearing a gas mask and a parka.
Up next was The Pardoner’s Tale, where three gangsters see an ambulance go by, with another thug in it, that got hit by some punk named Death. So they go to find him and take care of him and eventually end up finding some gold. Then after one of them comes back with some beers, which they poisoned, one of them kills off the other two, and then drinks the beer, only to die. *Rolls eyes, they found Death.*
In The Friar’s Tale, he tells of an evil Summoner, in the form of a sheriff, who meets another Summoner (that turns out to be the Devil himself). The first one extorts the other for cash, and that one ends up killing a few people for the money. Then they take a trip in a car where the Devil one turns on what Phil’s dad calls “butt fuck country” music and looks at the crowd, making his head bob to it. I so wish I could do that.. I’m going to have to start practicing.
And in The Summoner’s Tale, a corrupt friar get’s a gift from a dying man which he promises to share with all his order. He tells him to reach very low down his back, and then he gives him a fart to split 12 ways. So the friar brings this back and then discusses with his superiors, including a very flamboyant one, about how to split it up evenly. After a couple of gropes, and a lengthy discussion they come to the conclusion that the man must fart again, and they all must be there to smell it.
There is one more: The Second Nun’s Tale. But they only make a pun about the Summoner having each of the seven deadly sins, except a second greed instead of lust.
And the best part is that they kept the whole thing in the original prose. So all this happened with the original rhyming Middle English. It was pretty sweet. I hearted it. And I can think of a few people that should have been there with me. And btw, mad props to Miss Young for turning me on to this story.

Imagine that, Nathaniel read a book and enjoyed it because he could... For Weena, and all those like her: "And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers-shrivelled now, and brown and flat and brittle-to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of man." -H. G. Wells, The Time Machine

Holy mother fucking ass crackers! That’s all that can be said. Mostly because that’s all I can still hear. My main man Phil Perhaos the Asstastical Bastard Wachowiak, Nathan the Blasphemous Infidel Albertson, Pat the Half Mad Cannibalistic Poet Nuttal, Justin Mother Fucking Snakes on this Mother Fucking Plane Deimert, and Mr. Mental Masturbation Wachowiak all came up to see Nathaniel Freak The Geek Zalewski! And you know…. that um…. yeah…. Flogging Molly! Ok, so before I get too far ahead of myself, this has been in the works for a while. A couple of months ago, way before college started, Pat calls me up and he’s like “So buddy, you wanna go see a Flogging Molly concert?” I’m like “When?” Pat says “Well it’s the weekend of October 22.” “Um ….well I kind of have classes all around that.” So he says “Well do you at least want to know where it is?” And I go “Sure.” So, casually, Pat drops the bomb “Yeah….. it’s at Michigan ……….Tech.” “No fuckin’ way!” “Yes fucking way.” “No, your shiting me” “Nope, it’s at MTU.” “Holy crap. Well you all have to come up here. It will be fricken awesome!” “Fuck yeah it will.” (Oh yeah, in case you don’t know, or don’t remember, Phil and Justin were headed to Western Michigan, Pat and Nathan were headed to Kirtland, and I was headed to Michigan Tech. Also, Pat found this band from out of the blue. Near the beginning of Senior year he got big into this band “Flogging Molly.” And now while it catch like wildfire or anything to the rest of us, it was catchy, and we all liked the sound, if only a song or two. By the end of the year Pat was flat mad for it, Phil was into it, and the rest of us were still in the “hmmmm” stage. Needless to say though, we all got into it by now. Oh yeah back to the story.) So it has been a couple of months now, and all those bastards hitch up and head my way. They get here about 2pm yesterday; it’s pretty fricken sweet to see them all again. And we bum around Houghton, making trips to our mall ()shakes head in dismay(), Wally World, Pizza Hut, The Back Room… herm…, and generally around campus. We realized that the sportswear place carries every jacket from every college ever…. Except Michigan Tech. This is proven by the fact that Nathan got a State jacket for $10, and Justin got a Western jacket for $10. Oh yeah, and we also ran into Nerd Bowl’s own J. Frank. But anyways, after all this hanging out, we made our way over to the SDC, where the concert was going to be, and got in line pretty early. When they opened the doors we got a spot at the front right, so close to the bands that we could have probably touched the stage, if it weren’t for the big people that wouldn’t let us. Anyways, we were right next to the stage, AND the 10 foot tall speakers. I think we just stood there for an hour, waiting for the bands to start, mostly talking about what we would do if the crowd started moshing, and how we were going to not get separated. The first band, Zox kicked up. They were pretty good, which was the consensus with my friends. Then, while the next band was setting up, The Whitest Kids You Know came on the stage and showed random skits about like how to lose your daddy by making him look like a pedophile, and hunters wanting to screw a deer. After that, some other band which was really a let down started playing. And to make things worse, they got the moshers riled up… which made the crowd start to flow. The Whitest Kids You Know came back again and wanted the crowd to show …things to them, which nobody did. Then they told us we needed dental hygiene. But after that Flogging Molly came on. The band was awesome, the songs were fucking ridiculous (I’m glad they played Tobacco Island), and mother of god the people went crazy. I held my place on the front fence for as long as I could, but Nathan of all people was forced up into my spot. Somewhere in this a random kid threw up in front of Phil who saw it and also threw up …..ug…. I touched and was sloshed through it. And I’m pretty sure I have one of more kids out there now…. It’s pretty hard to tell if we were or were not getting raped by or raping someone out in the crowd. So Flogging Molly was through and they got off stage, but the crowd pleaded for another song, so Dave came back and did Black Friday Rule by himself. And then all the members came back on stage for another couple songs. But then, unfortunately it was over, so we started to leave. We got our stubs signed by a couple of the band members. I got Robert Schmidt, and Nathen Maxwell to sign mine. And then everyone gathered around Nathen for a picture to remember the event. After all was said and done, we moved outside to recover our hearing and sat down while Pat bought some shirts and a hoody. Thanks again Pat for the Queen Anne’s Revenge shirt. The night was over and we said our goodbyes. I can’t wait for Thanksgiving. Love you guys.

Think like a clock from noon: Me, Justin, Pat, Nathan, Phil, Jessica, and Flogging Molly’s Nathen.

Well, I got back from my Dad’s about an hour before the Blue Gill festival parade began. Yes, every year there is a local-yokel festival/parade in my town that celebrates a fish. So I called up Nathan and was like, dude if you don’t make it wont be sweet. So he was like, yeah I’ll see what I can do. Half an hour later and we’re both waiting for the parade to start. Here’s a few of the highlights.


Veterans ……with an Indian…..  Uncle Sam is a guy named Jim who does all the parades around here.


Shriners and a fish float. I really want one of those Shriner cars; not so much the fish float…


Tractors and a garbage truck. Oh how so I love the fish parade.


The guy in nothing but the shorts ran up to at least 6 cars during the parade, and “propositioned” the people inside for something. And then some people through candy at the kids…  from out of a garbage can.


There was a guy with a bird (Liked the bird, the guy was odd though.), and a license plait that read “BSLIQOR.” Shut up, these are my highlights, not yours.


There was this guy named Smolarz who was running for county commissioner, and I have to tell you, I think he deserves the job; he commissioned at least 12 cars, to hold his sings in the parade, and 6 girls to walk around with his name on their back. The guy must be a good commissioner.


All of you who are actually reading this probably already know a kid named Jeremy Hickmont. Well if you don’t know him, beyond his name, then you should know that he has always wanted to be a head honcho in St. Helen; well, he’s actually running for something. You know, he’s always wanted to do it, so more to him. But at the same time I feel sorry for the poor sob; he’s never going to leave St. Helen… although that just may be what he wants.

I could go into the whole national geographic fire truck thing, but I don’t think it really needs to be said.
Later days, The Geek

Well, my Dad’s wasn’t as much “fun” as it has been in past years, but I began realizing that a couple of years ago. In any case, I love my Dad and I enjoy seeing him, even if he puts me to work. The week was mostly work, with a short interlude to my oldest (as in known the longest) friend’s house. Nothing else too mentionable about the down time in-between those. But I did bring back some pictures, so I will show and tell. Have fun.


My accommodations for the week. (Notice the stuffed frog in the corner.)

Sanding, priming, painting, yard work, and pulling weeds (by hand): All things done at my Dad’s for my Dad. But I can’t complain too much. He also helped me replace the leaking gasket of my side inspection plate. (And by helped I mean the guys a genius with anything mechanical, and I have absolutely no idea.)


Speaking of, here’s The Beast in all her glory.


The Beast also fits in well with the three Faeroes, the Kubota (and like 8 attachments for it), the beater truck, the newest addition which I’ve never seen before, the big trailer, and The Pumpkin behind that. If you can see under the trailer, there are two cats there, which I find very ironic. My Dad hates, and is allergic to, cats, but he feed these ones because they eat all the wild critters that my dad also hates.


Ok, so this is something I’ve been dieing to show other people since my day and I built it a few years ago. My Dad has his own “store” in his basement. Even though he has to technically buy his things else where, he keeps it fully stocked with canned goods, pop, un-perishables, candy, and random other things. And I really want my own version of it eventually.

But while snooping, I found an artifact (In-between the Orange pop and the Club crackers.) so great that it was discontinued by the FDA. The Holy Grail of pop: A lone 2 liter of Surge.

As for my friend’s house, when I was there we played some tennis, went on a couple of bike rides, created and blew up our own “devises,” shot some pool, and eventually got talking about computers. Oh damn…. This guy owns a 44 in. flat panel Apple monitor (Which, through a series of switching boxes, is connected to his self created/moded computer.) which I drool over every time I see “into” it, and I forgot to get that picture. Oh well I was kind of distracted with this next thing at the time. So he tells me that his dvd player, in his computer, died. He later mentioned that it wouldn’t read, so he punched it. But either way I convinced him to get a dvd writer, and replace the broken goods. So we picked one up, put it in, and started to dissect his old one to find the problems. After we finish (It was a …few… broken gears and an old reader eye.) I ask him what he wants to do with it. He responds “Plan B.” He goes to his shed and pulls out a sledge hammer, and sure enough, on the handle is painted: Plan B. He says “If plan a doesn’t work, then use Plan B.”


This reminded him of Office Space, which I had never seen before. So we rented it ( I now own my own copy.) and it was the most freaking hilarious thing I’ve seen in forever. It also makes me fear cubicles. But I love “The Squirrel.”


Love and Kisses until next time. The Geek

Well, it’s only been 10 days since I took these, but the show was pretty kick ass so the crème de la crème deserve to be shared. Enjoy.
Oh yeah I went with gangsta Carla and Nathan… But they drove there. :p


Let the fireworks begin!


















Some of these don’t look so well shrunk down, but zoomed up, the details are great.

Either way, the display lasted for about half an hour and was accompanied by a montage of patriotic themed songs, finishing with "God Bless the USA"

For the sake of those that were acctually involved, I shall change the names in this to something that sugests their amount of involvment in the activity. Ok so some people stole two of those big orange construction barrels the other day. Yeah construction barrels. With the blinking orange lights too. Alpha, Beta and Charly went to Delta's bon fire. Then, around 11pm, Beta's parents called him and asked Alpha if they could take some gas to them; they ran out on the way to Houghton Lake. So they did, even though Alpha got semi-lost near Old 27, and on their way back there was nobody on the road as they were passing the barrels. Alpha pulled over, Beta opened the hitch, and then Alpha picked one up and put it in the back of their truck. In fourty seconds flat they we were out of there, and headed back to Delta's bon fire. Alpha dragged it to the fire, and accepted their congradulations, and eventually loaded the barrel back up. Then Alpha, Beta, and Charly left, and the situation arrose again that the road was clear of cars, so Alpha and Beta got out, leaving Charly in the truck, this time with Beta grabbing the barrel. Thirty seconds later they were done, in the truck, and back on the road, leaving Charly with his jaw open. Even though the second barrel wasn't quite so hidden (it was sticking up a foot and a half in the bed's window) they made it back to Beta's place, unloaded one, and when Alhpa got back to their place, in the morning, they did the same. So, now Alpha and Beta are the proud owners of orange construction barrels, with the lights.

More clean up, and advancement of the house; here is the forsaken.

Hello folks! Just updated and cleaned up my house a bit.


April 29, 2006
11 of my closest friends, and myself about to head to prom!
From the left: Cat, Pat, Ben, Me, Leah, Liz, Justin, Phil, Crystal, Sarah, Jarred, and Nathan.

Well I suppose the time for my input on life is now. In lue of addressing the same things everybody, in my age group, is going through, I will leave advice for the future in the hands of Baz Luhrmann. It is his song, "Wear Sunscreen," that has addressed the major facets of the decisions I soon face as a soon to be high school graduate.


Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’06 wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.
The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now:

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh never mind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded; but trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s heart.

Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy: sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind: the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters.

Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life: the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives’ some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees; you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry.
Maybe you won’t.
Maybe you’ll have children.
Maybe you won’t.
Maybe you’ll divorce at 40.
Maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
What ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either; your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body: use it every way you can; don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it; it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance; even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents: you never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings: they’re the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on, work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old; and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you: maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it.

Advice is a form of nostalgia: dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

The One True Geek
Nathaniel