Droppin like it’s hot.

This is just a short update on my progress towards my fitness and mental well being goals as I am using this blog as a way to document my process and keep myself on the path.  As mentioned in an earlier post, I recently stopped fapping.  It’s been about six weeks. It’s not easy and I am definitely tempted on occasion but I decided to master my own domain, and thus, I have willingly opted out of dating Pamela Handerson.  This decision was based in an effort to raise my testosterone levels.  So far so good.

Another thing I started about three weeks ago was to cut all processed crap out of my diet.  This action was inspired after reading about the “paleo” diet that has been increasing in popularity.  It’s not too tough, and I am not as strict as I probably should be.  I still drink Go-Girls from time to time, and I booze it up pretty regularly, but I have only been drinking spirits.  I have not been eating bread, grains, cheese, starchy roots, and sugar (aside from the alcohol).  My workout routine consists of body weight exercises and sprints.  I do each one alternating days, so sprint one day, body weight the next.   I also listen to my body.  If I am low energy and tired, then I need a day of rest, I let myself have it and I don’t feel guilt around it.

I use the 80-20 rule with my new eating habits and allow myself a day to go off of the normal plan. After the first week, I had some pizza, and it was amazing.  The pizza was not amazing, but the way I felt after eating.  I felt sluggish and my sides hurt.  My body has really responded to this new fitness and eating program.  Over this past month I have dropped twelve pounds and have made huge leaps in my overall strength gains.  So not only am I dropping weight, but I am adding lean muscle, which is a very good thing.  My overall productivity has been upped as well.  My apartment is clean, my dog gets walked, I practice my instruments more and am writing much more.  Thus, I am going to keep following this program and stick with it.  It feels really good to see progress.

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Burning Man Concentration Camp

It was a typical small town Friday night.  In my normal fashion, I was going to stay in the room I rented with my dog, read, play some video games, and otherwise be the anti-social cat I was used to being.  Then I remembered that there was this event going on, the flyer looked cool and two chicks I knew had said they were going.  After letting the dog out, I shambled to the bus stop.  I was early so stopped in to grab a pack of smokes, and while paying for the smokes the bus drove by.  Shit.  I sprinted to the next stop and caught the bus. Arriving at the venue, neon colored lights, blinked, sputtered and threw patterns all over the parking lot.  A huge rumbling bass and fuzzy modem sounds came from inside.  I paid the door, and went in.  There were people, dressed like something out of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, dancing awkwardly to cacophony of aural atrocities.  A DJ reminiscent of a dreadlocked Jabba the Hut manned the stage.  He was to blame for this full on act of retardation.  I tried to dance, but felt like I was emulating the motions of having a seizure.  How can people tolerate this?

This was my first exposure to the burning man syndrome that so consumes people.  I ran in to a guy I knew that night and ended up playing keys in his band.  The drummer of said group was obsessed with BM.  He was a burner.

I myself have no desire to go camp in the desert with 500,000 other people.  Smaller sized adventures are more of my thing.  What strikes me odd, and incredibly laughable is the metamorphosis these people go through and the personas they embody after having that going to said event.

There are a few attention whoring chicks on my facebook that are these people.  The other night I was trolling through some newly uploaded photo and I saw a comment with some absurd name.  Which prompted me to click the profile.  Alas, another BM victim.  I went to that victims friends list and what did I find?  A list of about 1000 people with retarded made up names.

Now I’ve done my share of illicit psychedelics and I do cherish me a boundary dissolving experience, however, after I fried balls for a week, I didn’t come out of and say, “my name is Rainhoof Jackylflower”.  Sure I had some out there thoughts and was tripped out pretty hard, but I was who I was, and am who I am.  Apparently though, a week in the desert doing high amounts of cokestacy and whatever else you can get your hands on turns a person into some one way minded patchouli pirate with a name that could have come from Frank Zappa, though way more lame.

Examples:

  • Harmonyeris
  • Huta Huta Snow
  • Starmonik Rosepetal
  • Kanyon Walker
  • Little Galactic
  • Conundrummer
  • Luna Breeze
  • Sunkist Love
  • Peachy Poi Walsh
  • Stephinity Meta
  • Sunflower Child
  • Teresita Nomadica
  • Bassignani
  • Violet Aura

They used to test nukes in the Nevada desert, perhaps it’s time to do that again.

Minimalist Chicken Mushroom

I know what you’re thinking.  This dude cooks?  What the flying fuck?  It’s true, I enjoy culinary excellence and pinky raising occasions, especially when concocted in my own kitchen.  Now I am bachelor extrema, and do not have a giant kitchen where I can fire up 4 pans, have a prep station, a sterile station, and a place for dirty dishes.  I’m working with minimal space, so I like to keep my dishes down to one or two pots or pans.  This recipe is a single pan meal and it is super tasty.  It’s a go to jam whenever I am in a rush, or when I am having someone over and don’t feel like doing much.

What you need:

  • Oven safe pan.  I use a cast iron skillet, properly seasoned.  But any oven safe joint will work.
  • some chicken:  Depends on how many you’re cooking for. For the purposes of this recipe I will be cooking for two.  I use two boneless skinless chicken breasts, but bone in chicken is fine, so is the skin as it adds a mighty flavor to the sauce at the end.
  • a grip of mushrooms.  I use around 8-10 oz. of crimini mushrooms, but any non dried mushroom type will work.
  • salt to taste
  • pepper to taste
  • 1 tablespoon butter

This is how we do it:

Preheat your oven to 375 F

Throw your pan on your stove at medium heat.  Use your choice of pan lubricant for this first part.  I didn’t list it in the ingredients because I find it can vary.  I prefer to use rendered animal fat.  My friend Cali-Baba uses olive oil.  My homey Solly-Baba uses coconut oil.  Whatever works for you, use that.  Get that pan lubed up and throw your chicken on.

Cook your chicken at medium heat for about 5 minutes.  After those 5 minutes, flip those birds, add your mushrooms and turn up the heat to medium – high, more on the high end. Cook those mushrooms down around your chicken in the same pan and get a nice sear on your chicken.  Mushrooms are weepers so nothing is going to burn.

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After 5 minutes, throw that entire pan into the oven.  Cook that shit until it’s internal temp is around 165 F or the juices run clear.

Remove the pan from the oven and take the chicken out of the pan.  Put the chicken on a plate to kick it.  I usually just put my Wok lid over the plate with a little sticking over the edge of the counter.  This way the chicken stays warm, but doesn’t cook more.

Put that pan on medium heat and throw in a half cup of water.  This is where the magic happens.  That chicken stuff, that mushroom stuff, that water stuff, mixing it together.  Getting wicked.  Cook that down until there is about 1/4 of a cup in there.  Throw your butter in, and stir that mix as the butter melts in.  You can throw any juices off the plate of chicken in there at this point too if you so desire.

Once the butter is melted in you have a delicious sauce.  Throw that sauce and those mushrooms over the chicken and walla!  Bon Ape Tit.

I’ve used all parts of chicken in this recipe so experiment.  Also, I like it to serve it with a colorful salad as this dish is pretty much brown and white, so it’s nice to add a side with some color.  Summer squash, zucchini and red/yellow bell peppers are great as well.  Enjoy.

Hardcore is dead

I grew up going to shows that embraced the ideal of HxC ideology. You didn’t have to be straight edge, or some political activist, all you had to do was believe there was a better way of being a person through community and togetherness.  Looking out for your brethren.  Of course, the activism and directional politic-ism came when one became later entrenched in the scene, the values instilled by the bands, the participants and the feeling of community, always led one down a path of optimal trajectory.

I’ve never been an SxE cat.  Never will be.  But I love the feeling at those shows.  It’s like a pair of shoes you put on that feels fucking fantastic and feeds the good part of your ego.  I remember asking Eric Ozene, hey man you straight edge now?  “nah man, I still got these stoch’s (cigs)”.

There’s something real that’s built in a community with conviction.  I believe it’s the same in the military, or in a specific racial group.

I went and saw a couple bands tonight.  The one I will talk about though, is Strife.  Strife was one of the hardest, most cut your throat mutherfucker, hardcore bands of the late 90’s.  They were the shit.  Rick Rodney was a mutherfucker who would eat your babies he was so hardcore.  They played tonight.  Their performance was … alright.  Rodney was spectacularly crazy.   He still has the voice of a male siren screaming through a blow horn of angst and anger, however, the music has lost that sense of community.  He’s a little fucking crazy now.  He broke open his head, banging the microphone against his forhead, and bled the entire show.  He didn’t sing his SxE songs.  The rhythm section was on point, but lackluster, the flare of ’97 was gone.  I went off, because I was never able to see them when I was younger, and well, one must take his balls under his command to run around in a pit with bro’s 2-3x the muscle mass of oneself.

It was exhilarating and fun, and tumultuous, but I am also disappointed.  No longer is the fight for truth on the forefront of this scene.  It’s not even a scene now.  It’s a melting pot of every cat who enjoys some thrash.  There’s nothing to embrace.  I was picking up a shirt for a buddy of mine who couldn’t make the show and the guitar player was just uncharacteristic of a member of hardcore band selling merch.  Pretty much an epic knob. Not a douche, or an asshole, just an apathetic player in something that is making him money.  Perhaps I am asking for too much, our society plays off of over-stimulation, and how can one un-focus from oneself in order to be a more apt disciple of a fallen gospel whilst in the throws of sensory suffocation? I have not the answer to this, for I am seeking equilibrium myself.

Hardcore is dead.  At least here.  I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but I am pretty sure I have an accurate hit on this.  I know what makes a scene feel right, and it was all wrong tonight.  Entertained, but disapointed, you mutherfuckers didn’t play ‘blistered‘.  Ears ringing.. I’m out.