Decidedly Decent Descent, Doesn't Dissapoint

I'm feeling good. I'm in, mixing a beat while making a mix tape featuring "Beat It Loose". Tonight is Last of the Record Buyers, and I'm showing off beats I've made earlier this week. I wrote a song with Megacat. I am maybe playing a show on Friday? At 1:30. I sometimes despise early-type jobs, those being the type that require early attendance. Well, that is what I have to look forward to every day come September. And I do look forward to that schedule, actually. It'll keep me on a routine and I'll have every day completely free after 3:00 PM. I do not look forward to Eva leaving. That happens in September as well.

But I do look forward to tonight, the present future. Tonight I am spinning fresh beats, after a fashion.

I have started my blog at the Wake, with or without them. Here's my official "Wake Magazine" blog, (Check the title please, and, the url), written by Jack Spencer. Coming soon: Interviews with Mr. Cecil Otter and duo Big Quarters. Also coming soon: A paycheck (i hope). Please pay attention as the blog's creator ponders his own posture (poor) and checks his wallet (poor).

I did make 3 dollars in tips today at work though. It was, admittedly, a truly luminescent movement of the pre-sealed Hot Dog from the warmer into the customer's ready hands. One can scarcely recall the last time a 3 dollar tip was so warranted. There wasn't even a cup; this man broke a 20 to do it. Tonight's event is... guess how much?

I'm feeling good. Cue James Brown. Oh shit, I should put some James Brown on this mix tape. Excuse me.

I Wonder How Much Time He Spends Writing The Title

Hello, all. I apologize, as I have been very busy and unable to write in here lately.

My friend is climbing a mountain.

Doesn't that sound epic as all hell?

Do you know how big mountains are?

They're called mountains. That's how big they are. Do you know they adjective mountainous? Use it in a sentence, then tell me that is not a big fucking thing. It's a mountain.

I am eating pretzels. I have eaten them before the date shown on the bag, hence they are of maximum freshness. They are called "Party Pretzels", the word "party" in neon block letters, reminiscent of the jovial events themselves. Eva and I had a party, and were eating Party Pretzels. You can't Party Pretzels elsewhere than a party. All must have been right with the world.

Soon I am moving back to the capital of this fair state, the state being Minnesota and the capital being St. Paul. Anyone who thought Minneapolis was the capital of Minnesota, you have failed your drivers test and must return within 3 business days. I am have unbridled, unwarranted optimism about the future. I am fast approaching the end of my time in college, whose beginning inspired me to start this blog. I am moving to Rhode Island with my girlfriend after my last semester. I have been rapping a lot lately. Things are happening to me, and I'm feeling good.

But my friend is climbing a mountain. Just how epic does that sound? It has a real ring to it. Mountain. Mountain. Say it with me.

The road lends itself to poetry and thoughts. I know little of the road. I've barely driven a car. One time I slipped on some ice outside of the Arbys parking lot and hit my head on the road. I have ridden in an armchair on top of a mini-van. I don't know if that counts for anything. And I have actually climbed a mountain as well. It isn't terribly epic, actually. At least when you're eight and full of sugar. Maybe you can't appreciate the magnitude of mountaineering at that young of an age. I used to imagine riding a giant magnet across the country, propelled towards another giant magnet somewhere in North America. The road is mysterious and I was a bored child. As a bored adult, the most road I get in my life is local road, that within the range of my apartment, job, and the liquor store. I have, however, been swimming in poetry and thoughts nonetheless.

Did I say mountain? Yes. I did.

Dine On Ego To Shine Like The Eagle Doth Fly

That's me rapping at the Nomad Pub on August 2nd. Check my shit out if you have the time: http://www.myspace.com/djraygotprettychubbythisyear

A Look Into The Not-Too-Distant Future

As a writer, which is clearly what I am, I will one day, after graduating from college with my pristine and immensely useful English degree, be writing words in exchange for money and/or services. Using my abilities as one who has heard of the English language, I will write and write and write and then people will pay me for it. This is how capitalism works: Immediately after college, I will find a well-paying job and move into a large house with gargoyles and pool attendants, because that's economics. I've been thinking lately about all the jobs that are available to writers and what kinds of things I could actually do with this degree. At my current job, which in no way reflects my talent at putting a word next to another word, we sell bagels to people who buy bagels. But this, of course, is not sufficient. We have to have an air about us, a personality which reflects our desire to serve our loyal customers, ie we need to invent terribly trite phrases to adorn each of our products in order to cover up the fact that we are sinister, bloodthirsty corporate vampires here to eat your finances and drive the poor out of their homes. It's fun! All the little dancing chefs have cute little hats and say things like "Bagels are #1... to eat!" and every time a new product is unveiled, some faceless copyist plops a delightful saying to go along with it: "Our new 'Awesome-Great-Yum-Time In The Sun' Chicken Sandwich will have you saying, 'Gee, I just spent a reasonable amount of money and have now eaten!'" And everyone smiles, because we all realize that this company is our friend, and they would never hurt us. All their products are our friends, and those smiling, carefree go-getters which prepare them for us are ready and willing to do whatever it takes for you to make the 2 minutes and 15 seconds you spend in their store the best 2 minutes and 15 seconds you've ever experienced. I started thinking about how someone in the company has to write all the little phrases adorning products and invent the corporate personality. That, one day, could be me:

BAGEL BONANZA CORPORATE HANDBOOK

by Petey the Bagel Platypus (as related to Jack Spencer)

Welcome to our team, cadet! You are now a proud member of BAGEL BONANZA, the nationally recognized and revered FUN place of FUN business! Here at B.B. (that's short for BAGEL BONANZA!), we have a simple philosophy: We sell bagels to customers in exchange for American dollars! We've lived by this humble belief since the first day T. M. S. Ribaldian-Bonanze opened his first BAGEL BONANZA in 1882. Remember forever these words, spoken by the man himself: "Cheese costs 79 cents extra". Chisel this sacred mantra into your mind as we have chiseled it into the side of each of our [insert current amount of locations] locations worldwide!

Rules are a funny thing. Some say they're meant to be broken. We couldn't agree more! That's why we here at BAGEL BONANZA have no rules, just simple guidelines! (Actions performed outside of guidelines are grounds for termination as well as violent removal from the premises). So here's our oh-so easy guidelines, which you shall read back to us after having committed them to memory:

REGULATION #1: Smile!

Put a smile on that puss! No frowns in Bagel Town! Our customers do not come to us to hear about how your alarm didn't go off or how your mother has cancer. Awful thoughts have no place in our sterile food kingdom! Be sure to project yourself in a way befitting of our founder, T. M. S. Ribaldian-Bonanze, who, in 1754, fell from six consecutive cliffs while bird-watching, piercing his face on the rocks below until they formed a disturbingly transfixed smile upon his battered and bloodied face! We strive to put make our own faces as positive as his, and have chiseled a picture of our founder into the walls of all of our locations, to remind everyone that sometimes all it takes to make this world a better place is to come into some restaurant and see people pretend they don't hate their job.

REGULATION #2: Conversate, conversate, conversate, and conversate!

This may look like four regulations at once, but its really just the same word written four times! We cannot over-stress the importance of engaging in inane, meaningless chatter with customers. They didn't just come in to our restaurant to eat, they want to chat with you about the weather and their co-workers! All of our customers are, at heart, lonely, sad little children yearning for menial exchanges of words to prevent them from taking their own lives. That's where we come in! When making someones bagel, try using one of our patented conversation-starters to get things going (directed for in-store use only, attempt to utilize the following for conversations out of work settings will be grounds for termination and severe shame within the community):

- "Gee, there sure is some weather out there today!"
- "Hey, your shirt reminds me of a brief and innocuous anecdote involving my pet and/or mother!"
- "Don't you think sports are just fantastic? I have watched them."
- "Yum! You've sure ordered a winner! What are your feelings?"
- "Some days the gun won't let me take it out of my mouth! I mean, hey, bagels."

It's easy! Not to mention FUN! Oh, no wait. But it is easy. We don't want people to leave our establishment thinking we've been ungracious hosts. Just put on a smile, a fresh face, a compliant attitude, say all the right things, and close your eyes and think of England!

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I could easily affect the voice of some warm, pleasant bagel aficionado, type up a couple hundred words and leave with corporate blood money. I could be the faceless representation for the company with little qualm, cuz I would be able to write the bullshit instead of have it sifted upon me. Then I wouldn't have to smile. "Here's your fucking copy boss. Growl growl growl." Someday somebody is going to give me money for doing this shit. Why can't it be now?

Oh yeah. Because my writing is as yet incapable of being without the sewage-like bile behind it that has made it what it is. Oh well. Maybe I can write CD reviews or something.