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How Many Times Have You Been High?

. When you think about it, that makes Chuck Norris even more impressive. Not only is he old as shit but still able to roundhouse kick someone, but he also does that shit wearing BLUE JEANS. That is freaking wild right there.

:werd:

I did a ninja kick to celebrate a made pong shot once and ripped one of my favorite pairs of jeans. Shit is tough.
 
This shit is craaaaaaazyyyyyyyy...



My goal: complete liberation from form and symbols, context and logic.
Away with motivic work!
Away with harmony as the cement of my architecture!
Harmony is expression and nothing more.
Away with pathos!
Away with 24 pound protracted scores!
My music must be short.
Lean! In two notes, not built, but "expressed".
And the result is, I hope, without stylized and sterilized drawn-out sentiment.
That is not how man feels; it is impossible to feel only one emotion.
Man has many feelings, thousands at a time, and these feelings add up no more than apples and pears add up. Each goes its own way.
This multicoloured, polymorphic, unlogical nature of our feelings, and their associations, a rush of blood, reactions in our senses, in our nerves; I must have this in my music.
It should be an expression of feeling, as if really were the feeling, full of unconscious connections, not some perception of "conscious logic".
Now I have said it, and they may burn me.



To be sure, "the smallest link" is an agent of the work's dynamic. It transforms musical substances into functions; [transforms] everything that is into the continuity of becoming. But the consequence of such transformation leads Berg's music to the old Eleatic paradox, which, to be precise, always deals with the finitely small and only by transference with the infinite -- a paradox that is not solved as conclusively in his music as it is in pure logic. At any given moment the music, while imperceptibly altered, seems identical with itself: is it not, therefore, standing still? Is not the work's dynamic, when robbed of all material against which to test its dynamism, transformed into stasis?



These tiny, perfectly-proportioned masterpieces (lasting just over three minutes in all) are a milestone in Webern's career -- and, indeed, in the history of Western music: here, for the first time, each single note becomes a complete entity, so that there is no one sound which can be removed from the texture without destroying the sense of the whole. In spite of the tempo fluctuations which can mark the ends of musical sentences, and of the irregular groupings (into two, three, four and five) within each beat, the underlying pulse of the music is clearly present as a fluttering inner urgency -- which occasionally rises to the surface in throbbing repetitions

Whoaaaaaaaaaa...Deep. Throbbing repetitions.
 

You should post that on the How much do you save every month thread and the more career/less career thread.

"But we missed the point the whole way along. It was a musical thing, and you were supposed to sing, or to dance, while the music was being played."
 
There's a cool song with that speech set to music, called The Pilgrimage (Into Chaos) by a band called Handful of Luvin. I wanted to post it but couldn't find it.
 
Without going out of my door
I can know all things on earth
With out looking out of my window
I could know the ways of heaven

The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows

Without going out of your door
You can know all things of earth
With out looking out of your window
You could know the ways of heaven

The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows

Arrive without travelling
See all without looking
Do all without doing
 
Dude, Danny McBride is only 34 years old. 34!?! How is that possible? Dude looks like shit for a 34-year-old.
 
I think I'm going to watch Game of Thrones later tonight. I do it somewhat skeptically, as I am really not into fantasy shit, dragons and knight and elves and warlocks and whatnot, but this show is supposed to be good. That's just not a genre I was ever into growing up. I dig that some folks are into it, and I'm not putting it down (god knows I'm into some dorky things), I just never got down with swords.
 
Our buddy worked at WXII. We were starting an egagement party for him at the studio when he got off the air on a Saturday night.

It was a small crew. They joined us in getting high while he was on the air. About twenty minutes after he got off the air the engineer fed a copy Deep Throat to the monitors in the studio for us.

There was only one problem. He hit the wrong button and put the porn on the air for about ten seconds before realizing what he had done.

Of the ten or so calls, all but two wanted more of the movie.

We weren't done yet. The star of the party lived over by the Bethabra Cemetary. We had run out of beer and wine and Russ had run out of cigarettes. So he walked over to the Circle K.

About an hour later, we started what had happened to Russ. He'd be back soon. No worries.

About hour fomr then we decided to form a search party. If there was ever, the blind leading the blind, this was it.

We spread out and couldn't find him for a while. Finally someone saw smoke coming out of the ground. Apprently there was a funeral the next morning. Russ had fallen into an open grave.

After we stopped laughing at him, we lifted him out. He said every time he tried to get out he lost his grip and fell back in. He was kinda pissed that we had waited so long to look for him.

BTW - the 420 crap is for amateurs. As deacref will tell you, we didn't need to wait to any stinkin 420. Most afternoons you couldn't see down the hall in New dorm.
 
I was a little baked the other night and walking the dogs by myself. I had on my Ipod and was rocking out to some Lost Souls by Doves, which is my favorite album to hear between the hours of 6:30 - 8:30 pm on a Sunday (a long story).

Anyway, it was dark and I walked by this group of 7 or 8 dudes who were obviously pretty wasted and carrying beer cans. This is unusual, as we live in a pretty laid back residential neighborhood -- not the kind of place where you run into 7 or 8 dudes just walking down the street. I also think they were underage, although I wouldn't testify to that as I was pretty lit and I don't really remember what they looked like AT ALL, even like 3 seconds after they walked away. So, anyway, I walk by these dudes without incident. Like 45 seconds later, another dude in the neighborhood drives by who I know from walking the dogs, and he stops and asks me about those guys. I told him that I thought maybe they were underage and drunk. He said they had been kind of looking shady, checking out people's houses as they walked by. So, he was being like a conscientious neighbor and sort of driving by to check them out. That made me feel kind of like a dumbass, as I had basically just walked right by those dudes and not only didn't really pay attention to anything they were doing, but I also couldn't even describe a single one of them in even the vaguest of details. But, I was baked, ya know. Give me a break.

Dang.
 
My favorite parts about RJ's stories have to be when a name is randomly thrown in:

"We had run out beer and wine and RUSS had run out of cigarettes"

LOL gets me every time for some reason.
 
Our buddy worked at WXII. We were starting an egagement party for him at the studio when he got off the air on a Saturday night.

It was a small crew. They joined us in getting high while he was on the air. About twenty minutes after he got off the air the engineer fed a copy Deep Throat to the monitors in the studio for us.

There was only one problem. He hit the wrong button and put the porn on the air for about ten seconds before realizing what he had done.

Of the ten or so calls, all but two wanted more of the movie.

We weren't done yet. The star of the party lived over by the Bethabra Cemetary. We had run out of beer and wine and Russ had run out of cigarettes. So he walked over to the Circle K.

About an hour later, we started what had happened to Russ. He'd be back soon. No worries.

About hour fomr then we decided to form a search party. If there was ever, the blind leading the blind, this was it.

We spread out and couldn't find him for a while. Finally someone saw smoke coming out of the ground. Apprently there was a funeral the next morning. Russ had fallen into an open grave.

After we stopped laughing at him, we lifted him out. He said every time he tried to get out he lost his grip and fell back in. He was kinda pissed that we had waited so long to look for him.

BTW - the 420 crap is for amateurs. As deacref will tell you, we didn't need to wait to any stinkin 420. Most afternoons you couldn't see down the hall in New dorm.

How does this man have a negative reputation?
 
One of the Peters' sisters was in grad school. She sent what we thought were some of her famous choclate chip cookies. Luckily she called to tell us about the false bottom in the can. She was working on the experiments at Berkley of acid and sent us too many to count.

One night several of us had taken some and were sitting on the wal by the PIKA House watching the lights of The quad like they were a pinball machine when dickie B showed up telling us he and his buddy were to go to Charlotte to see a concert.

I said something like, "If you can figure out how to get out of the parking lot behind the dorm, you'll be OK."

About thirty minutes later he returned asking if I remembered where he had parked his car. I was coherent enough to tell i'd take him to his car if gave me his keys.

He did. I got one of the hippie chicks to make room for Dickie on the wall.
 
We were at this hippie music concert one time, really really really baked. Beautiful summer afternoon, sitting on the grass, just marinating and enjoying the opening bands. About 20 or 30 feet in front of us there is a hippie dude there with his baby. The kid is just wearing a diaper. It's early, so not many people on the lawn yet. Well, as this dude smokes from the pipe/necklace contraption around his neck the baby starts crawling off. The dude is oblivious and the baby makes it about 40 feet over to a normal looking preppy couple drinking wine. The chick is like WFT?! where the fuck did this baby come from, holy shit. About then the dude notices the baby is gone and sees it chilling on that couples blanket. Here's where the real fun begins. Instead of getting up, walking over, apologizing, and picking up the kid like a normal human being, this dude takes some popcorn and starts throwing it at the baby and making a trail of popcorn back towards himself. I guess his stoned logic was that the baby would eat the poocorn and make its way back to him. Once the trail was finished he squatted there on his blanket and kept waving for the baby to crawl on back. It was crazy weird and we were all wondering if this was really happening. Totally mezmerized. The lady took the kid back to him and then I guess disappeared and got the cops because a while later two cops came and searched the dude, found his weed and took him and the kid away, but left his blanket and stuff. He eventually returned with the baby and watched the rest of the show. I can't tell you if this whole episode took 10 minutes or 3 hours, but it felt like about 2 weeks. The "Popcorn Baby" made for a really memorable concert.
 
We were in the New Dorm (I think it was finally called Leuter) in the room of basketball player A. I was with there with basketball player B.

We decided to do a bomb (no not bong). To do a bomb you took a good amount of pot in your hand. Then you put some match heads into the mix and finished by wrapping it in toilet paper. The last steps were to put the bomb into a safely bent metal hanger.

Then you light it on fire. As it starts buring through, the match head light and you have a smoking ball of pot. You pass the bomb around as it fills the entire room with pot smoke.

We had finished but could barely see across the room when we heard a knock on the door. Even with towels under the door, we knew the hall was filled with smoke.

for some reason I jumped into the bathroom and got into the shower (I didn't turn the water on silly).

Then knock on the door was the RA. Oh man. Player A said,"I'm naked in bed. How can I help you?

The RA said,"turn down your music I'm trying to sleep."

He said fine.

After a few moments I came out of the bathroom. We didn't see Player B. Then we saw the window was open. Somehow he must have dove out of the window (luckily we were on the ground floor).

A and I started looking for B around campus. We went to his frat house. No luck. We went to The Quad and the gym and again no luck.

A and I went back New Dorm.

No one saw B until bball practice the next day. He was wearing te same clothes as he was the night before.

After practice he finally went back and got clean clothes. He saw me on The Quad and said he was scared and bellyflopped out the window. I asked him how he saw the window was open after A had turned off the lights.

B laughed and,"I had to try something. I didn't want to lose my scholarship."
 
first a bomb sounds like a colossal waste of pot and i wish he had left the names in on this one.
 
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