fast forward

i havent posted in forever. pretty much since halfway through my new orleans journey. well, fast forward a few months to the present, where i have left new orleans as of last week, am super depressed having left all the wonderful friends and memories i made, and starting school broke and uninspired in a city i have come to resent for not being new orleans. so thats where im at. nothing funny about that really. im not even sure why i posted this. i guess just to get it off my chest. ill start doing this more, maybe writing will help me cope.

new orleans is better than old orleans

the girl with the pomegranate tattoo.

theres this girl who walks in to the art store every now and then, and when this happens my heart jumps into my brain and clogs up any coherent thoughts i would otherwise have. she is, for lack of a better term, exorbitantly beautiful. she also has a badass tattoo of a split pomegranate on her forearm. very sexy, i want to lick it to see if it has flavor. or maybe scratch'n'sniff. dammit, i wish i had that joke last time she walked in. stupid!


craigslist is weird. or maybe i just attract weirdos. i sold my bike recently to an elderly asian masseur, who felt it necessary to tell me his entire life story beginning at the exiting of his infant body from his mothers birth canal to the present time in which we were currently conversing. needless to say, i will not be getting a massage any time soon (i believe he hinted at a special service that in industry terms is referred to as a happy ending, which i can only assume means candy is distributed at the end of the session).

neutral milk hotel is amazing.


i lost the remote to bryans tv. hes gonna be pisssssed. maybe ill build him a new one, made of wood. hell never know the difference. and if he ever finds out, ill erase his memory. with a baseball bat.




strange dreams. two nights ago i dreamed the world was ending in nuclear holocaust, and all the important people were being saved in giant blimps, along with various animals and objects of cultural significance. i dressed as a security guard and essentially snuck on to one of these blimps, and basically creeped around through deserted hallways so no one would notice me. however, i stumbled into an aquarium of sorts, filled with rare and odd fish, which was unfortunately very crowded with prestigious people, who all immediately recognized me as someone who did not belong. in the ensuing struggle, i destroyed a fish tank containing very large and dangerous fish, which began attacking the elite in what can only be described as a vicious blood bath. a chase took place and i found myself on a ledge of sorts, miles below me the ravaged, fire engulfed world, behind me, the angry mob of those deemed intellectually superior, who judged me unworthy and wished my death. i believe i jumped.

last night, i dreamed i was a drummer in a three man band, who i believe labeled themselves 'air'. the band had been established as famous, and was at the height of their career. we did decent sized shows, toured, etc. however, there was discontent among the members, and talk of ending the gravy train. it basically played out like a corny band movie, trials and tribulations, leading to a triumphant finale of us playing at a very large venue, rumors abound of it being our last show. there is a point in our set where the music dies down, were asked if it is our last performance, we look at each other and smile, having come so far already, and instead of answering, we crank up the volume on a hard hitting song, and the dream ends. so i dont know if we continued to stardom, or disbanded. i then dreamed i was being chased by hybrid insects designed to wipe out humanity by injecting radioactive plutonium through their wicked stingers. there was a particular type of insect that hunted while you sleep, and aimed specifically for the butt hole. mmmm.

thats PROFESSOR sam, thankyouverymuch

this blog is running into the ground, face first. its a blogtastrophy. no but seriously, i have lacked, missed alot of important events. no worries.

i did not catch that mouse. hes a crafty motherfucker. i actually saw him crawling out a pair of jeans (on the floor, not on me) this morning, and i kinda flipped. my jeans! im a kinky boy shovin mice up in my pants. theyre just a little rougher than hamsters ;). haha i kid, rodent butsecs is not my style. or so id have you believe...

ill be a dog man forever. LOLLLZZZ



SAM
FTW
WTF


a rhyme about work:
its people like jordan who would keep me in this city,
its people like jordan who are always leavin,
its people like dave who i most often hate on,
its people like dave who i learn the most from,
its people like allison who i crush on real hard,
its people like allison who think im a retard,
its people like matt and kathy who make me happy,
its people like matt and kathy who make me realize my art is lacking,


its places like the art shop that make me wish,
its places like the art shop that ill dearly miss,

shh, dont tell nobody.


the drive from houston to new orleans is often monotonous, but it does have its perks. its a history lesson, one can see how the french once owned this land in the names of the cities. take notes, this is important:

the city butte la rose is where the french lawmakers held their capital punishments for crimes committed, which at the time was the horrendous act of public spankings. thus, one can easily deduce that the literal translation is "the rosy cheeks".

the city grosse tete is where the french soldiers went for a good time, but being french, the prostitutes of the day were slim pickings. therefore, grosse tete can be translated to "gross tittie", named after a famous whore of the day, a 78 year old woman with only two teeth and twice that many breasts.

the next city you come upon is baton rouge, which was named for a famous infestation of narcissistic bats, who for some unknown reason or another, grew insanely ravenous when exposed to beauty products. and so you have the french label for "bat on red blush", or "bat high on makeup".

now, as everyone knows, new orleans is dipped deep in tradition and holds steadily on to its french history. but what many people do not know is that new orleans was once the pinnacle of shallow judgementalism, the height of exclusion and prejudice against anyone who did not fit the mold, and was THE spindle-shanked city for all things fabulous and beautiful. the name new orleans reflects this perfectly, as the modern day translation can be read as new (as in young, fresh, delicious) OR leans (as in thin and gorgeous people only). they call it the big easy, cause the fat chicks of yesteryear were desperate.

well that concludes the history/language lesson, i hope you learned something, and feel free to take this information and blow your professors minds with my inside knowledge of the significance of louisiana cities. bricks will be shat, that much i assure you.


hey girl das a nice scooter,
do you like it when it rubbin up on yo pooter?

i poop in yo mouf while you try to shout!
i shake you awake with a poop in yo face!




and now some more rhymes, hopefully a little more thought provoking.

the bags of my dreams
are overstuffed and ripping at the seams
fragmented fantasies peak through the rips
though i sew patches, determined
my desire still slips

somewhere in this room
i found my life
something better
ringing true
someone you thought you knew
makes you a listener
a blister on your thumb
cause you havent seen the sun
lost or found, or lost and then won?
springtime comes
pick me up from the comfort of my couch
they say this whole worlds just a guest house
well, beta males fantastic fantasies
lay into the core of me
and flood gush pour out onto the streets
through my mouth and other oraficeees
i ponder the sweet and the slow
thoughts sleeping, controlled by the tempo
pick me up lightly, a gentle stroll
just a single stair on the stepping stones
cigarettes and bad tv are what make me happy
but its the doodles in the margins that i truly need
i still find dog hair on my clothes
but i like the image that it shows
well make this world ours
with my ideas unfurled and his guitar
im tired, trying to wake up
pour more coffee in my cup
the sun always sets when i least expect it
and my last sunrise, well i cant recollect it
the street light shines
through my window blinds
and i spend too much time
wishing for an answer
but i gotta get these stitches out before my skin heals over...

i couldnt figure out how to end it. maybe sometime later.




"i saved latin, what did you ever do?"-rushmore

man i love me some icarly. for a grown ass man, i watch way too much kids tv.



so i went to walmart the other day. i dont recommend it. walmart in new orleans, just think about it. better yet, dont. dont think about it, its not worth it.


im doing a painting. its a red, old school wagon. the one we all had as a kid, and wish we still had to this day. im titling it "shaggin wagon". word.

shit i been spending time on:


iiiiiiiits salmon! i eat so much fish.


i took this picture from the tv. its king of the hill. but check out this dude, he doesnt have a hand. nuts!


same episode. whats he doin in a hamper?! that gribble, what a rascal.


hips do what? would spammers know the answer?


i made this! its funny!


this is the mouse trap i made. its wiggidy wack.


and thats about all i got for now. im going to h-town for the next 3 days.

i say goddam this fish is tasty

work was cool today, i met a girl who is soo tite, and really nice, and very much in a relationship. its a trend im noticing here, ill meet a cool chick, and then meet her lame ass boyfriend. why cant i be the lame ass boyfriend, huh? i can be really fuckin lame too!


we had a couple dogs come into work today. saw some things i hadnt seen in a while. balls. dog balls. everyone neuters their dog, so when you see a dog that actually has a pair, its kinda vulgar in a way that it really shouldnt be. but hey, he looked happy, he was like, hey, i got my nuts, im a dog, ima hump some shit, check out my nuts. nuts!



easters here. im not with my family to celebrate, im not sure what ill do. church? chocolate bunny? easter egg hunt?
none of the above i think. i think ill get really drunk tonight, alone, clean my apartment, naked, and then pass out in a gallon of ice cream.

i been makin music. it aint that good.


if you arent wearing skin, youre probably dead.

a little rhyme about growing old:

i wont hear shit by the time im 66,
and thats ok, cause shit dont talk,
i talk shits,
sometimes you crash,
sometimes you burn,
but i guess youll never learn
that whats best for me
sucks for the rest of you



...now change my diaper,
its filled with poo


all this fish is makin me itch,
i wish i had known im allergic

i have reason to believe we have a mouse residing in our house. the reason, specifically, is mouse poops. i made a tunnel out of cardboard, put peanut butter on a cheez-it, and set it on the edge of the counter, right above the trash can. with any luck, the dumb rodent will fall right in to my trap. nobody poops in my kitchen! nobody!

stupid rhymes.


bryans a nomad, hes always traveling. every time i step out of the apartment, i freak out slightly, thinking ive just locked myself out. every time. thats probably the scariest thing about living alone, aside from burglars that love to rape. rapglars. burglapists. idk.



man, i hate 'for the love of ray j'. those bitches are dumb, hes interesting like watching your nails grow is interesting. all he talks about is bein real, and im like, yea, you real...real effin boring! hahah. he needs to pick cocktail though, for real. hes an animal fucker if he doesnt pick cocktail. an animal fucker. is that real enough??!!




freedom is not a license for chaos. but it sure as hell makes me wanna flip the fuck out, YA HEARD?!

i may curse too much. do i give a fuck? yea i do, im afraid a children will read this or something. although, if i ever got flagged or whatever, i think id be more happy that someone actually read this pathetically obscure blog. id probably even take joy in the fact that someone got offended. suck it up, soak it in, sex it out.

i like chicks that like bowie

we went out last night to see a show, ariel pink and the vivian girls. the vivian girls are a trio of smart and sassy vixens who punk out old school, i wish they had been the headliner. i had seen ariel pink before, and was not impressed, but this time around the sound was good and the stage presence was much more put together. though ariel definitely toned down his appearance and mannerisms, the first time i saw him he was wearing this like, jersey made of sequins, rolling around the stage and being obviously disgruntled by female fans. this time he was making kissy faces to the groupies in the front and wearing very regular clothes. but like i said, it sounded better, so, give and take. i saw my new friend scott at the show, a very lovely encounter indeed. however, i am under the suspicion that scott is in fact, a gay. i guess i didnt pick up on it the first time i met him. its cool, he took us out after the show, we listened to some jazz (blehh), found some chill bars with decent juke boxes, and then hung out at his house for a bit. that was very interesting, he has pet chickens, and very nice musical instruments, and after chiefing, we studied for the lsat. we gonna be lawyers! lawls.


im lookin for love. but im only compatible with a certain breed of women, a rare type that is difficult to find in the wild, and could possibly be endangered.

the beauty of my street is that its pretty much a small town in of itself. so, alot of times you see the same people every day, shopping, eating, working, etc. theres this chick i see everywhere, she works at juans flying burrito, and she is the most gorgeous girl ever. shes got tats and piercings and crazy style and hair, she could be the hottest suicide girl ever. the siren of magazine street, thats what i call her. im so weird. shes not on my list of possible loves though, shes just fun to look at.





i may have mentioned it before, but im thrilled.


theyre an acquired taste, but once youve gotten accustomed to the flavor, youll find theyre absolutely delicious.


i been jammin to this band called team teamwork, who basically took some hot old school rhymes and spun them over legend of zelda sound clips. its called ocarina of rhyme. check it:

shits yea

thats how i eat. 

IS IT TITE??

i heard through the grapevine of brain knowledge that the shamwow guy was arrested for beating a hooker, or getting beat by a hooker, im not sure. they had a hard time proving it though, as the scene of the crime was especially clean, as if someone had mysteriously wiped everything down with an unbelievably absorbent towel of some kind...hmm??

good luck with that line up. 

i wish i had a mustache. a mustache and overalls, thatll be my new look. i be trend settin like its all the raging. bryan learned me a new word, molestache. you can sort that out yourself.

o goodness, i am such a flaming flag! i can say that, i am one.

nickel please! i can say that, i am one.

o me, im such a bitch! i can...wait a minute, dogs cant talk!

lemme taste that curry. ooh, spicy. finger-lickin good, makes my breath hawwwt.

paul rudd, am i right? need i say more? what? oh i do? really, hmm, i thought youd get that.

-raper? no, no rapper! haha, wow, uncomfortable.

-well according to your rules, its rappist. im just not getting this, youre a terrible english teacher. screw this whole country.

you clodhopping ham-fister! no, it just means youre awkward, like clumsy. whatd you think i was calling you?

you can play pranks at school, sometimes at work, maybe even at a wedding, but a funeral? i just dont see how that can be in good taste. maybe if it was like steve-os funeral.

3-d porn. there, now i dont hafta say any more. thats a rap, a finale, the end, roll the credits, close the curtains, this birds cooked, done like dinner, this message will self destruct in five secinds, the cats in the bag, the cows have come home, the fat lady sang, you dont hafta go home but you cant stay here, the pigs fleKABOOOOOOMEXPLOSION!!!

no one should call you a dreamer, even if you are one. 

we be poopin

i had french fries and poptarts for dinner. im skating a thin line between reliving the giddy joy of childhood innocence, and the very tragic realization that im old and single and poor. fuuuudge.

"thats it, no pap smear for you!" oh south park, you never fail. youve reinvigorated the good name of queef jokes, added a new life to a joke that never really stopped being funny in the first place. 

new orleans is all about flashin yo shit, so in the spirit of unabashed flaunting, ive been trying to create a flag. maybe with balls on it. balls, waving majestically in the wind.

take oooonnn meeee! taaaake meeeee ooooon! ill be goooone, in a day or twOOOOOO!!

imabadassassassin

omg, omg! fast and furious! omg, i knew it! i knew import car racing culture would never die. souped up 1999 honda civics, i am pumped! 

bryan stole the internuts. or i guess more specifically, he put the modem in his room. its like the stone ages all over again. me type on rock, rock make clicky clack. me want prons!!

ive entered the world of music pirating. i feel soo dirty. 

it could also be cause we ran out of toilet paper. its hard being your own mommy. 

aprils' fool

work was nuts today. art store customers are diiivas. as are some of the employees...i kid, i kid. apparently you can get fired for blogging about work, so, pretend i didnt say any of this mess. 

ever since moving here, i havent seen any movies. ive watched a couple on my computer, but im talking like going to a movie theatre to watch a brand spankin new movie on a ginormous screen with stupid expensive popcorn, ya heard? i havent seen watchmen yet, but fuckhead reviewers ruined it for me already. i read the book long before the movie was thought of, but now every day i walk by the coffee shop and see hipsters with furrowed brows flipping through the characteristic yellow paperback. as a comic book fan, its not a bad thing, i suppose. but as a movie fan, im disgruntled. if the movie looks decent, i like to see it before too much buzz gets thrown around. anyhoo, im looking forward to 'where the wild things are'. theres not an original idea left in hollywood, but as far as adaptations go, this one has potential. and thats that. 

i want ink. 

a city of symbols

quiet day in the 504. 

i went to green tea the other day (subpar), and got a fortune cookie that said "enjoy yourself while you can". its haunted me ever since. 

unfortunately, my nights so far have been spent aimlessly channel surfing, doodling some very uninspired (borderline dada) art, and cleaning my apartment. not to be that emo douche, but i aint got no friends. new orleans, ive observed, has very little presence on the internet, it maintains a small town, word-of-mouth means of communication, which makes independently searching for events and things to do next to impossible. ive managed to track down bands coming this way, so hopefully the next month or so should see me going out for some good music and drank. but for now, on a monday night, i got nothin. i could simply walk down the street and see if a bar would provide a laugh or a friend, but knowing me and my pension for wallflowerness, i cant imagine it going very well. 

edited march 31:

i met some of my neighbors, and made a friend, all by myself! he works at rockys, a very decent pizzaria. so, 1 down, 3,000 to go. (btw, i got the spicy tchoupitoulas, delicious.) 

i was gonna go to this show tonight, unwed sailor, but then it rained, and i pussied out. whatev, i do what i want. i put on jamz and danced in my boxers instead. 

bryan left for houston about a week ago, and he took the shampoo with him. so ive been washing my hair with what i thought was shampoo, but was actually conditioner, so my hairs really dirty, but it feels wonderful. 

im writing a 'short moving pictures on film for viewing'. its called "hermano de bach", its about j. s. bachs brother, who despite being an aspiring rapper, actually wrote all of the compositions that went down in history. its full of treachery, sibling rivalry at its worst, and the fattest beats evAR!

for your consideration

first post on the new bloggy-o. now, my voice will go completely unheard as usual, but now it will be triumphantly ignored, online!

i kid.

family, friends, acquaintances, and randos, prepare thyself for an internet sensation in the making, as i take you from step 1: the ambitious undertaking, to step 34: a level of stardom never before seen or imagined, and therefore impossible to comprehend. behold, your new leader, bask in the glorious rays of your first encounter with the words written here, the blog to end all blogs, the chronicling of the life and times and thoughts of ME: SAMBO JONES! THE PREEMINENT, THE CELESTIAL, THE ULTIMATE! 

dramatic, ¿si? thats how i do. thats how i roly poly. no but seriously, take this with a grain of sugar, cause i am pretty damn cool, but im not like, god or anything (though youd be surprised how often i get mistaken for him).

i suppose i should go about stating the intentions of this here webloggesite, so that if in the event i do acquire anything resembling an audience, theyll know wtf im about. the plan is to use this medium as a means of channeling my thoughts and musings, observations and day to day affairs in a (hopefully) entertaining fashion. you know, the same shit everyone does with their blog. ive recently relocated to a new city, new orleans, and so ill be doing a good amount of documenting the sights and sounds and smells and flavors, à la anthony bourdain, or any traveller/writer really. 

a little background information (feel free to skip entirely, its a lot of spit ballin and uninteresting info): we (me and bryan, my long time friend, creative partner (sort of) and now roommate) first visited new orleans 2 years ago to take part in the mythical mardi gras, and after having imbibed gratuitous amounts of alcohol, then thoroughly dousing the city in various bodily fluids with no consequences other than experiencing severe bouts of ecstasy and hangovers, the idea to live here metastasized and then exploded. through a series of strange visits and encounters, we came to find ourselves new orleanians by the time mardi gras 2009 rolled around (a harrowing story in of itself), and have been living here ever since. the original mission was to use the city and its inhabitants as a backdrop for a cartoon we intended to write, a creative endeavor that has been met with mixed responses, but remains a seemingly honorable goal nevertheless. however, the emotional impact of uprooting oneself entirely was an unforeseen hurdle, and the artistic intentions have taken a backseat to an unexpected, but wholeheartedly welcome spiritual journey, in which i have undergone the daunting task of completely re-analyzing myself as a person, questioning every choice ive made up until now, and with any luck, reshaping myself into a person of quality and substance. weve been here roughly a month or so, and after the distressing roller coaster of job hunting, watching my bank account cry from starvation, and dealing with the mobster-esque negotiations of land lords, weve finally settled down and are ready to fully integrate ourselves into the tasks set before us. 

so without further adoodoo, i give you the life and times of sambo jones, a man, a quasi-artist and rapper, a soul searcher, a do-er of things and stuff.

 

wow, that was unnecessarily long winded. i just wanted to flex the writing muscles, get the ball rolling here, get the juices flowing, get the cogs turning, let the rat race begin, dawn of a new era type thing. an adderall fueled rant, if you will. i take addys, i got bad add yo. 

do you want me to break you off a piece? you do?! well ok!

i be diggin that white chick chelsea lately

homegirl got the booty thatll make a grown ass man sweat profusely

got a urge to gank dat skank, greatly, 

ya heard?! get run over by a scooter, chair on wheels, 

fall on a cats pooper scooper, slipped on a bananer peel

f-real? howd it feel? like getting kicked in the meat balls with a steel heel,

damn son, shits surreal, gotta protect ya neck

fo a scientologist catch ya back, like beck

dat boy'd get wreck'd, reference check bounced

cant afford that organic ounce, ouch

puma pounced and ended up on my feet,

2 too fly kicks poundin on the concrete

the scene set to a blues beat, and i killin it softly, discreet

i could go on, but im not especially inclined to.