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.