Ground Control to Major Tom

I am once again in the ancestral homeland. Actually, that is a lie. The many unfounded assumptions I have about who my ancestors were (i.e. Ghangas Kong AND Attila the Hun) would certainly be shaken by the revelation that they actually wanted to live in Richmond Virginia.

I am, however, once again in the childhood homeland. After two years of low-rez, fuzzy apartment living; with slim cuisine, slimy counters, and other alliterative adjectives, this place seems like a wonderland. First off, it's a house. Second off, they have a yard, which is something of a myth in the greater chicago area. Thirdly, there is, like, beverage here. All the time. We're talking high quality juice people. Juice!

In this new world I find myself, a world viewed through the hardened lens of apartment living, a place that can afford continual supplies of juice is a place of significant wealth and grandeur. First thing I do when I go to a person's residence now is surreptitiously check their refrigerator. If I see juice, I give my companions significant looks and move my eyebrows around, as if to say: "We've struck gold. These people are LOADED."

Really, I've just come to appreciate the inherent stability of a family. Whenever I enter a house in which a family lives, I feel the difference as a palpable thing. It's like I just passed through a curtain. Outside is instability and dog-eat-dog craziness, inside is order, well being, and juice.

In conclusion, my title has made me think of a new pickup line*: "Hey baby, you be major tom, and ill be ground control. Together we can explore."

*All pickup lines read on Falcomatic.blogspot.com are NEVER to be used. Ever.

The Dream

For anyone who has seen me over the past two weeks, you may have observed one of two things:
1) I'm awesome
2) I'm awesome-er because I've been borrowing my brother-in-law's scooter.

This is the NEW age people. And it is an age of scooters. An age of scooting. Of the scoot, if you will. The old age, where scooters were strictly used by economically savey dweebs who coveted their vespa as if it could fill the void created by their lack of female contact, has been annulled. And it is clear and manifest that in this day, the scooter is the new motorcycle.

Seriously, you don't even KNOW how many chicks I had on the back of that thing (five, actually, and all Baha'i girls that rode in a totally platonic and un-braggable way, with me just being helpful when they happened to need a ride. So, now you DO know how many chicks I had on the back of that thing.) Five is not bad for two weeks of work though!

Don't believe me? Fine, I'll let the pictures do the talking:



















In the profound words of my good friend T.I: What you know about that?

Ignoring the obvious fact that the person on back is not actually a chick as I just boasted, can you imagine a cooler, more enviable robbie? I certainly can't.

Oh, and why post about "the dream"? I'll tell you why. With a link. One, simple, LINK.

The Big Fat Golden One

Preface: It's my birthday today, June 20th.

Post-preface: June 20th has also been named by congress "Bald Eagle Restoration Day" or some such, because the Bald eagle is about to become un-endangered. Now, an eagle may not be a falcon, but I would point out that BOTH are birds of prey. Therefore, I am going to go ahead and thank congress for honoring my birthday with a celebration that has a vague connection to my last name. Really the United States Government, you shouldn't have.

Main post: I guess this is my "Golden birthday." You know, where the day of the month matches the age of the birthee. In my case that number is 20 - a solemn occasion indeed. In this past I have been accused of not taking these things seriously enough, but this year I have already layed out my holocaust cloak and plan to remain beneath it's dark, voluminous layers for the remainder of the day. Thus, when people ask me why I am walking down the street in a giant black cloak in the middle of summer, I will peer out from beneath my hood - my face half covered in shadows - and answer in a deathly whisper: "It is my GOLDEN birthday and I am treating it with all due solemnity."

I have the urge to climb a mountain, ride a wave, tame a sea urchin and use it to brush my hair in the mornings - but such is my nature. Often enough I just like to have ME time on such days of birth, which is just a nice way of saying that I do crazy and mildly dangerous things on my own. This time, I am settling on having a massive evening dinner. We are eating sushi, and the 1% chance that someone could die from raw fish poisoning at any point during the meal will have to satisfy my lust for danger. And yes, that is the official name: "Raw Fish Poisoning." It's all quite scientific.

What I love most about birthdays is how every single daily act seems to fall meekly in line behind this title. For instance, my friend just bought me some birthday tea. Tonight I will go and have a birthday dinner. I like to take it to the next level, however, and talk about how this morning I birthday woke up, did some birthday choirs, and then took a birthday nap. Perhaps later I will birthday change-my-clothes.

Really, people, I just popped out of the womb! We all did it (great idea for a bumper sticker: "Pro-life peer pressure: Pop out of the womb - every one's doing it.") Still, I am grateful for the confirmations of love and fellowship, and for the natural period of self-reflection. We humans loves our rites of passage, and it's clear why. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a holocaust cloak to put on.

I accidentally saw the Fantastic Four 2!

Never one to pass up an opportunity to be hypocritical, I have been making fun of fantastic four all week. Of course, I didn't exactly anticipate seeing it at the end of said week. Unfortunately for my dreams of distant mockery, a group of irresistibly cool people went to see it, and so intent was I on reveling in their company that I was left with no choice: I accidentally had to go see the new Fantastic Four.

That's right, I just used a whole paragraph to make excuses about why I even have the knowledge to make this post! Some might see that as insecure, but I think any self-respecting individual would do the same. It's like calling a criminal on the run insecure about being caught - perhaps there is a certain wisdom in his/her insecurity.

I came in with a certain low expectation. My challenge to the movie was not to jump over this extremely low bar - indeed that would about as good of a challenge as demanding someone jump over a curb while crossing the street. No, I wanted to see if this movie could actually be worse than I expected. It seemed a nearly impossible feat, but, sure enough, Fantastic Four "The Rise of the Silver Surfer" managed to limbo it's way to a lower position. I mean, we're talking some nearly horizontal limbo-ing, the sort of thing that is only seen in Cirque Du Soleil or on planets that boast all invertebrates as inhabitants.

Although, it was pretty fun to make fun of. Glaring plot holes, terrible acting, mediocre action scenes and a script seemingly created by a cliche-belching machine and an attending troop of monkey operators - it is a movie replete with mockery opportunities.

Go see it if:

A) you hate yourself
B) you really hate yourself
C) you gave up good movies for lent
D) you like to make fun of things

P.S. We don't usually do movie reviews here at falcomatic.blogspot.com, but some movies require immediate and summary expulsion from ones memory banks. Like drawing poison from a wound, it must be done swiftly lest it spread to the heart.

Poe-A-tree!

There comes a time in a man's life where he must form fellowships. Alliances. Pacts. Agreements that foster success and guarantee domination. There is one such combination whose legendary resonance vibrates throughout the poetry writing world: the illustrious Nathan Davis and myself.

Ok, sure, point out that we've never actually done anything together. I don't care - My hot air balloon is flying too high for your rocks to hit! Combined we are the stork AND the crane, the Phoenix AND the fox (I would take the time to come up with diametrical opposed animals whose symbology actually means something, but seriously, how much time do you think I have to make these posts?! Therefore, take these nonsensical animals and be happy.)

It was still a good point however, as Nate and I have totally failed to do anything together. It is possible the greatest example of the sin of wasting potential ever committed by humans. Possibly it still loses out to that whole Adam and Eve thing. But I will NOT lose out to those jerks Cain and able!

Anyways, let us get to the point: This illustrious figure has started a blog! And it instantly gets the oft coveted falcomatic stamp of approval. Check it out at www.nathonius.blogspot.com

And also, look at this poem I wrote!

Vagrant Thoughts

These thoughts wander,
Vagrants.
Though they have means,
Still they steal rides on the empty trains,
Not caring where they end.
A bundled handkerchief of insights,
Tied to a stick of whimsy,
It doesn’t take much,
To see what drives them.
Wandering,
As only wander winsome wants,
They have no more structure than a willow.
Weeping.
I wish to gather them again,
And explain to them my purpose,
But I too enjoy a good droop,
And their charm cannot be denied.
So I loose them,
Wandering winsome wants of a lost age,
They construct these lines,
To speak of their story,
Hardly even asking my permission.
I loose them to see the world,
And to send me these blurry,
Dream-like reports.

Well.

It turns out that there are multiple ways to get exhausted throughout one's day. Most recently, I was exhausted by school and by too much work. Strangely, i'm now experiencing exhaustion due to "socialization overload." Two of my friends got married at the House of Worship this weekend (Lev and negin, woot woot!) and the number of Baha'i youth this drew to the chicagoland area could only be measured in the old style, with large stones (for the curious, the number of Baha'i youth equaled roughly 5000 stones).

I am currently breathing deeply in an attempt to recover, half-finished classes of yoga flashing through my head. If memory serves, I should be channeling the essence of the spiritual warrior even as we type.

It was a beauteous ceremony, and held at the House of Worship here in chicagoland - possibly the most attractive building and grounds in the whole of the western hemisphere. The day cooperated nicely, no one fell down embarrassingly, and I got to marvel once again at the simple majesty of two young people dedicating their lives to one another.

Congrats lev and negin! May all your tomatoes ripen and all your beds remain fluffy!