girth

The Man Behind the Girth

The Blog of all Blogs

"Inspiration stems from love and stress compounding." Slug from a little known "indie hip hop" group Atmosphere.

"�who�s love is so strong you can shut your eyes and see'em when you listen to their songs." Slug

2/11/03 I regret to inform anyone who reads this site that Nick D has decided to take a hiatus. I do plan on keeping a journal but the pressure of updating a site has overcome its value. Right now my juggling of work (which includes some home study and a long commute), college Spanish, guitar, friends and a girl friend something must go on the back burner. I can�t believe it I actually have a life now. So this is my last update on this site until I can get myself into a better routine and when that time comes I will re-amp this site. For a closing blog I would just like to talk about the first book I�ve read this year. Ben Weasel�s �Punk is a Four Letter Word.� If anyone is like me and thrives on both emotion and informative content to be intertwined into literature you may pick this book up for the last chapter and enjoy. I�ve moved on to reading The Dalai Lama�s �Book Of Love and Compassion,� given to my by Tim. The Dalai Lama�s advice on overcoming bad situations on life is to think of your situation compared to the most worst-case scenario. After putting yourself in that mind state it is important to keep working away at the problem. So I interrupt his advice to be not unlike my Grandma Jackie�s antidote, �Who�s better Nick? The man who has one dollar and gives away 75 cents away or the man who has a million and gives away $750,000?� Both are based on the relativity of the situation. Thank god for Dalai Lamas and Grandmothers.

7/6/03 For many people the term of Greek life refers to a decadent bunch of young adults whose work out routine, includes push ups while attempting a keg stand; studying, is an all night cram session fueled by Starbuck�s coffee and Cliff notes; gourmet meal, is a number one super sized at McDonalds; and finally financial aid, is calling mommy and daddy for dorm dues. Any one who�s done any research on Greek society knows that this isn�t entirely true. Greek life is a model for this very society we live in not just college life. There was people spinning round and round again trying to be that perfect person and as far as I know there weren�t any Cliff Notes. There was Art, education, ideas of a perfect body form, and even ethnocentrisms. I put Nick D in the House on hiatus because I found myself dizzy down on my ass from trying to balance 40 hour work weeks, practicing my beloved guitar, reading borrowed books, taking care of my body and apartment, having a girlfriend while also attempting to make time for my other friends and family. For anyone whose observed true paradigm shifters of our world they will find very torture or eccentric individuals. Buddha gave up all the riches of his royal family to walk the path of enlightenment by meditating by a tree for seven years; I�ve heard stories of the avant-garde guitar player Jimi Hendrix practicing for three days strait; and I�m sure everyone has heard the stories of the artiest Vincent van Gogh if one hasn�t check out his letters to Theo http://www.vangoghgallery.com/letters/to_theo_saintremy.htm (he wasn�t a mentally stable man.) In all cases each individual found themselves whole-heartedly absorbed in their pursuits. I can�t find a better creative muse for my guitar playing and song writing then spinning desperately in this society absorbed by trying to live up the perfect Greek model set upon us all. Constant bombardments of trivial gaudy bulls*** is the routine mental hygiene super opposed on us through family, friends, co-workers, bosses, strangers, teachers, media, and even ourselves. So for the next six months I plan on torturing myself. Living the life of the Radiohead�s Electioneering by being �Fitter, Happier, More Productive.� I believe that the only way one can transcend the �Jones� is keep up with their superficial fa�ade for a while until you get nauseated from the spinning.

8/30/03 For more detailed description of the legend of Buddha please visit The accounts in the passage happened the eveining of 8/26/03 http://www.csis.hku.hk/~bruce/home42.html
I�m a human being! I reserve the right to be angry and trust me on occasion I blow my top�who doesn�t?? But not since the teenage days of angst ridden youth have I been this spontaneously fired. It happed in the middle of Denver rush hour. I was driving Downtown on Broadway close to where that big Catholic cathedral is. I get me and the Golden Buddha stuck near one of those crazy multi-faceted intersections. I don�t panic. I simply freeze and see two clumsy Colorado pedestrians in my peripheral vision. They too freeze, not quite unlike stupid cows, awaiting to be onslautered by 3000 lbs of masterfully crafted Pontiac golden steel. I could only just make out the women closest to me. She was an elderly latina woman with pseudo-classy blazer businesswoman suit on. You know, one of those purple blazers that old Latin women where to prove that they are part of the business world now but still want to look like they shop at pic�n�save and wear cheap business suits so they can still afford to send pesos back home to Juan in �Me-he-co�(a.k.a. Mexico.) She kind of looked like that *itch that killed Salina (you know in that movie Salina.) I couldn�t make out the man so well. All I could see was an oversized pot-belly, probably made by drinking too much Coors Light and making his cheaply paid Colfax hookers do all the work during their 3 minute sex sessions, with a light brown leather briefcase and baby blue oxford button up shirt. So I, like any other homo-sapien with slightly more then vegetable oil for a brain, cautious proceed towards the safety of the other side of the intersection. This seemed to have angered the blue collar male pedestrian whom weighing in at over 200 lbs of pure saturated (I buy all my food from the Burger King $.99 menu) fat feels it�s his right to take the liberty of slamming his fleshy palms upon the Golden Buddha�s rood top. 500 cc�s of pure adrenaline flowed instantaneously through my veins. Can we say road rage!!!! I slammed on my anti-lock breaks and screamed out my power operated windows *UCKER!!� I looked in the mirror and could not see the coward that laid the abuseful blow on poor precious Buddha. While starring in the mirror, I could see my green tinted flesh and shredded clothes from my turning into the Hulk for one split second. �You won�t like me when I�m angry� is the reality sound-byte for this evening spent in Denver Rush Hour. Looking back I�m glad that the one ounce of �good sense� was still lodged somewhere between the marrow of my bones. For it was that one ounce that kept my 100 lbs (with a wet t-shirt on) frame strapped into my bucket seat. It was that one ounce of reason that prevented me from lashing out of Buddha like a Mexican jumping bean and killing a man twice my size with nothing more than my bare hands (and that darn stun gun I keep stashed.) Perhaps it�s my medication that is keeping me from behind bars and in the free world as it spins on its axis. The only thing now holding me from a life of prison for man slaughter on the next pot-belly with a baby blue oxford button up shirt on is the pure sedative refreshment I�m getting from cheap Dutch beer we Americans like to call �Grolsch� and my expressive writings I�m allowed to share here in the form of a blog. Now all I have to show for the day is a microscopic dimple left atop the roof of poor ol� Buddha and one priceless lesson. �Don�t *uck with a man�s Buddha!�
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read my bittersweet memoir. Let�s all be silent for a few moments as we take out our Offspring Smash and meditate as we play track number three �Bad Habit.� Happy road rage to all and to all a good *ucken night.