Living in Alaska is like:

Living in Alaska during the end of summer is like:

-Smelling, perpetually, like a camp fire. And after bathing, you smell like camp fire/soap.

-Crowd surfing when the crowd you're surfing is gravel. This stuff is everywhere. One ended up embedded in my car's windshield the other day. Needless to say, Novus and Speedy Glass do well out here.

-Living 4 hours behind the rest of the world. Because we know the whole world is in the Eastern Time Zone.

-Keeping constant vigil for animal droppings. Why? Although stepping in it would be stinky and nasty, running into who left them would just be nasty.

-An orgy of duct tape. Because duct tape is everywhere and if, heaven forbid, you run out of the stuff the Walmart in Wasilla sells more of it than any single store anywhere else in the world.

-Struggling to have just a little heat, warmth, coziness. There's a dearth of sunshine here during the rainy season so emotions run high in a sad way. Rainy and damp. And chilly. It's an epic setting for a Hitchcock, Wes Craven collaboration. Worst of all, I've found love is in short supply. There's no cat and mouse to play, no flirting, no gesturing. People here are clad in flannel, are hearty and are forward. In short, the people are as cold as the name Alaskan implies.

-Everything you expected it would be. Today someone down at Keith's Service Station called me looking for a moose tag. She gave me only 4 digits for her phone number. People routinely refer to 30 miles down the road as "just" down the road. Addresses aren't addresses as much as they are mile posts. I sleep at milepost 231 and I work in and around milepost 238.6. You hitchhike, wear Merino wool socks, fish, hunt, drink, and have fingers built like beaver tails.

Timbuktu

Morning. It's still night here... but I'm 4 hours away from most anyone who would read this. And by that, I'm referring strictly to time zone. No way anyone is traveling 4 hours and ending up in Denali, Alaska. Not if you're anyone I know anyway.

So what have I seen? Duluth, MN. Great place. Really.

I think I passed Glacier National Park in Montana. There may or may not be a glacier.

I saw Calgary, Alberta. Not a nice place. Very middle of nowhere-trying-to-be-somewhere.

Whitehorse, on the other hand is a gem. Drunk First Nationers and francophones all over the place. They've also got a Walmart whose parking lot doubles as an RV park. And a campground where I paid C$1 for a 4 minute shower.

I saw bison walking along side the road in the wee hours of the morning. I swear to you, they are so dark, had it been in the middle of the highway in the middle of the night, I'd have been stew meat. That far north, you only read about street lamps. Quite dangerous.

I saw Fairbanks. Nothing fair about it. They've a couple of great outfitters, a McDonald's that sells the McMckinley (a Big Mac with bigger beef patties), and the largest Walmart I've ever seen.

I saw Anchorage. Drunk eskimos abound. The people are rude. They practice shady business. Very disappointing.

I saw Wasilla. Wasilla is Alaskan heaven. The people are nice. They remind me of pleasant Canadians.

And of course I've seen Mt. McKinley. Big. Word on the street; it's bigger than Everest. It starts lower, has a higher rise (18 thousand feet, whereas Everest, though taller, rises a lowly 13 thousandish), and a larger base.

Oh yeah, I've peeped a cow moose and her calf eating the life out of some leaves not 100 feet away from where I sleep. Talk about big. I've seen a threaded flange break off my car's alternator. I've seen the Stampede trail made famous by Christopher McCandless and that whole Into the Wild hoopla. I've seen the midnight sun. I'm not exactly in Timbuktu, but I'm not in Kansas anymore either.

AntiDepressant

This is the worst time of year for me. Admittedly, I'm at my lowest just as the calendar is about to read "December". Thankfully, my people have been aces. Maykin, who I've showered with constant sound advice for the past couple months gave me a ring today just to have me come over and do something. The other night, he bought me some fried rice and we played pool on his dime. I spoke to a good, great, grand friend in Kansas tonight too. It's funny, but just thinking about her puts the biggest, brightest smile on my face. It's weird, but she's a completely platonic friend who I associate with nothing more than smiling. And, of course there are the new folks. The weird short Russian friend of mine who is such a pleasure to be around, or the eccentric organic head with the ornate forehead jewelry and the penchant for ostentatious rings. And then there are my friends who are fairly new, though we're very familiar. Like Jenny, who I love to bits. Or Lindsey, who I only know through iChat but we'll inevitably share oxygen at some point in the future. Good times friends.

A friend recently admitted to me she really wants to quit cursing. I thought about it and responded in a way that shocked even me. Sometimes, I really outdo myself. I told her to keep cursing, citing it's emotional efficacy. These were earnestly wise words. It frustrates the soul when, in speaking to someone, a flat affect or a blank stare meets you in response to your input. However, a failsafe way to ensure a reaction, even though it'll more than likely always be a negative response, is to curse. We know when we curse people respond poorly. But why do we curse? Is it out of habit? Really? Why pick up the habit? I'll tell you why, because we, as people, the grand communicators we are, need feedback. We need to know, definitively, that what we've conveyed was in fact received by our intended audience. It feels good, if even in the subconscious. That's why we talk, after all. To be heard. And nothing elicits a response like one of those forbidden four letter words. From childhood we've been dared to use 'em. And from childhood, it was one of the best ways to NOT be ignored or drowned out. Curse and someone will say something to you. Or show emotion. It's almost guaranteed. Honestly, being ignored has far harsher consequences than merely being looked at as obnoxious because of our choice of language. It shocked me to the point the shock truly has yet to wear off that I was capable of this thought. Man, do I ever give sound advice. Moral of the story, any reaction qualifies your existence. It's better for the spirit to be acknowledged, than to be. I'm not saying the verbal abuse tirade should be a daily ritual, but I will implore everyone to see the value in being acknowledged and chose tactful situations for the use of the lowbrow language.

Today I'm feeling:

qualified

Natalie, from Kansas, and I talked about Kate Tucker and the Sons of Sweden with great glee. For that, today's recommended listening is linked. Please feel free to listen to the new album, in its entirety, for free! Over and over and over again. It's the soundtrack to today's post.

Plain pain

Sean and Jennykins at Union Pool, Brooklyn, NY (pay no mind to drunk Olga in the background)

Is that Jenny or Jolie?!?

I finally took a photo I actually look Black in.

My knee is really in the shitter. Woke up this morning to find that it is in agonizing pain and I've got a big game tonight. I now know that my team is officially going to be gang raped. I don't even see us having enough players and I can't even jump.

Maybe the MacDaddy'll make me?

"...I'm the wrong one to lie to/
Shit, I'm the man who supply, who supply, who supply you..."
Beanie Sigel on Cru Love

Today I'm feeling:

deeply saddened

This life thing is composed of so many facets. A cut and dry situation is a rare find. Emotions have so many levels. Sadness is recurrent, I find, when happiness is visible but not within reach. Sometimes we just do it to ourselves.

Rest in peace to the boy Floyd

c. 2005-2007

I owe you my first sip of something cool and alcoholic. I hope your final resting place is a cozy one. May your life partner, Piglet, live long and prosperous in your absence. May she find happiness and an appreciation of life without you. And may your airhead master get her act together. I didn't know you long, but you didn't know Earth for too long as it were. Still, our souls touched and for that I wish you bliss in the afterlife if there is one. Your spirit was a free one. You refused to be contained. You exuded a feral quality unmatched elsewhere in the inner city. I applaud your unyielding vigor for freedom. I sincerely hope there are no homes where you're going; just a big green bok choy field in the sky. I remain deeply saddened by your loss. Thanks for the times we shared, friend.

Wise men should never argue with fools. When they do, people who look on can't tell the wise man from the fool. They both look like fools.
paraphrasing of a Far East proverb

Today I feel:

absorbed and consumed by anger

Frustrated mostly. The month of April has bathed me in idiocy. My kingdom for some humans with something besides meat for brains! These characters couldn't seem anymore dumb or selfish. Okay, I'll stop now. Someone say something.

My invisible city in the sea

Pigeons atop a bust in Midtown Manhattan.

There's not one way to just say this right/
I've got calloused fingers, blisters on my soles, and I can't sleep nights/
I've been touched deep within my soul, your fingerprint's on my life/
We were supposed to be niggers for it,
now I'm forlorn with the whole concrete jungle to forage/
I've tapped my inner artist, got a job and now I'm a tourist/
In the fast lane, but I'm a measly tortoise/
I've been purported to be a porpoise/
the smartest mammal in the sea/
I've built Atlantis, an invisible fortress even I can't see/
every now and then I can't eat, I can't breathe/
have we already established that I can't sleep?/
Last I checked, my fuckin' pulse still beats,
excuse my French, par le vois and we we/
there I got it out my system, there should be no more/
I'll check the rest of them outbursts on the street or at the door/
just so long as you promise to promise that it'll be worth it indeed/
and if in the future should our paths do meet/
you forgo the dollars and let the good times and laughs proceed/
the last time this grown man cried was this week/
and the time before that...? Yeah, that too was this week/
I don't mean to come off as being too weak/
but more honest, I'll be the first to admit that this is too me/
why hide? I want to be you wanting to be me/
and you probably don't even know and never will see it/
in sad times, kimosabi, I conjure up new laugh lines/
and never sweat it long, I wash it off come bath time!
original, written in these past ten minutes, Sean Luxembourg, March 29

Today I'm feeling:

touched

Like you'd never know. Wouldn't it be nice if we all gathered around the wash basin, cleaned our mitts, then held hands and sung in chorus? Or if you wrote me a couple lines.

Spring, bitches!

This is... nope, can't remember her name either, but she was...eh, maybe not so hot now that I'm looking at her picture without the hangover. I'm pretty sure that she was Irish, though.

Still, that smile is real. Yeah, it's Guinness induced. No, I'm not all that happy. But I'm smiling, aren't I?

Today I'm feeling:

surprisingly well

I did a workshop yesterday, and my students loved it. That was an excellent confidence booster. And right now I'm vibesing to Emotionless by Jim Jones.

Alcohol induced amnesia

Nope, I don't remember these girls at all, but the one on the right has a really nice smile!

I'm not here trying to show off. Really, I'm not. I didn't pull any phone numbers and didn't make any lasting relationships with any women. Though the German, via Haiti, UN intern is sooooo amazing. In fact, given some daylight or even an extra light bulb, I doubt any of these women, German UN intern excluded, are even attractive. I mean, let's be honest... if they were actually hot, they wouldn't be at a club, drunk, having me take their picture. Or would they? Hmmmmm...

Still, I did it because it was nuts! Gosh, a year ago I wouldn't see myself doing this shit anymore.

Even worse, being the substitute teacher by default, I picked up 3 more shifts today. These teachers approach me all coy and slick like, and then just spring it on me. I can't help but agree either. They look so helpless and needy. One even pulled me to the side, me being a BRAND NEW TEACHER and all, and offered me her full time position (I was flattered to death because she's worked there with the other teachers before I got there, which was just 3 weeks ago, and suggested that when she leaves in two weeks I could grab up her full time gig). I don't get it at all. But this was an offer I more than had to decline. Fuck a job! I already doubled my hours for this work week. Which made me think:

Where would I like to visit and what would I like to do before I depart this planet (I don't see the connection between working extra wretched hours and travelling my pain away either)? So far, here's what I've been able to tally.

• I HAVE to visit Ireland about a week prior to St. Patrick's Day, then hitchhike the Isle in search of the best spot to celebrate the occasion!
• I want to visit Bolivia and find the world's best white girl and shovel puntitos (small hits of "starch") into my septum.
• I got to hit Germany and drink my way through Oktoberfest.

That's all for now. Hopefully I'll build upon it something serious in the next year or so. I wouldn't mind entertaining a suggestion or two in the comment box either.

Today I'm feeling:

like I could use a couple beers

Knowhatimsayin?

Drunken Revelry

So, the one on the right is Terry. Nice, right? Yeah, the Navy guy was in the process of picking her up. I really had no interest in actually picking any women up to be totally honest, so I stepped back. Besides, I'm no cockblocker.

All in good fun. Poor taste? Maybe, but good fun nonetheless.

I think, though I'm not particularly good looking, I'd pick up a ton of women if I had skills on the dance floor. When at a bar or club, I don't want to dance. I'm a predator. I'm on the prowl for skirts. But contrary to my predatory instincts, dancing is probably the way to go whilst club hopping. I wish the Internet was any good at ramping up dancing skills for the uncoordinated. Not being able to dance with the drunkies on St. Patty's Day; my only regret.

Today I'm feeling:

like a suicidal 16 year old

Don't ask. Something on your biscuit? Speak on it.

The "I's" have it!

Yours truly and one of my two best friends for life at Grenada's Grand Etang Lake in 2003

I'm usually weary about putting my image on the net... but to heck with it, I don't look like this anymore.

Here are some thoughts from my first day at "work" today:

• I want and like animal crackers!
• My longest relationship was one year and one month.
• I am beyond hungry and sleepy. 12:10pm
• My mind is a chronic wanderer.
• I feel like an aardvark in a housing project.
• I am at a distinct disadvantage in life.
• I am likely at the crux of my life.
• I am in serious trouble.
• Thank goodness I bought this shirt; I barely have any business casual attire.
• I am not going to look anything like a teacher.
• I know what a Schengen Visa is.
• In the classroom, I am the only person with my problem *recurrent thought*
• I am never going to "make it."
• Less than half an hour to go here. 3:17pm

Today I'm feeling:

Shot down

Like the watery carnage that evacuates from your backside after the chipotle crap you had for lunch, my depression seeps. Still, I haven't called for a moratorium on comments.