Yeah, I'm a little late, but considering how late I typically am 10 days isn't so bad. Especially considering I'm actually posting in here. Yule has come and gone and left me with perhaps the greatest gift that I have ever had. My parents, evidently taking pity on the chilly california weather and my lack of an island (as bemoaned by K@ several posts back), contrived to provide me with not only an outlet for those various words and phrases which bind themselves up in my head, but also a connection (and umbilical, if you will) to the big wide world of the internet in the form of a laptop. A better gift has never been given. Especially considering that I was in the act of saving up for a laptop at the time. Desktops, while faster and cheaper, fall quickly to the wayside once one takes into account my nomadic tendencies, and after the fiasco of getting my computer from hawaii to the mainland last winter (losing a significant amount of my mp3s in the process), as well as the many moves made over 2004 and those forecast for the years ahead- a laptop was the most logical gift possible. She's a stellar machine, too. We've been bonding over the past week or so, getting familiar with each other and learning each others peccadillos. Thus far, however, she remains nameless (aside from the strongbad tribute "lappy 486"). If any of you intrepid readers out there in the ether have any suggestions, I would be glad to hear them. Dora is out, as that was the name of my dear-departed desktop. Hortence shall forever remain the moniker reserved for that most studly of vehicles, my old minivan. Aside from those two exceptions, the whole gamut of names from Ada to Zora is available.

Well, enough of this nonsense. There is music to be acquired and time's awasting. Besides, you've all been updated as to the various changes in my life, as there are none other than that listed above. I'll try to keep up with this more often now that I have the means, though no promises. I wish to prevent the decline of this blog into yet another vapid "today i did blah blah blah" type site that seem so prevelant among the weblog communities. For an example of the sort of chronicle I would like to emulate, you should check the links to the right and visit ms. meredith's daily collision and madame sonya walker's (not to be confused with the inestimable Madame C.J. Walker) this imploding heart. They're easily my two favorite pieces of code to visit day-in and day-out.

'Tis the season for snowballs and blowers, elven slaves toiling in winter wonderlands, and violent parents everywhere venting their frustration on hapless clerks throughout the nation. Yes, yes. Prepare that festive log o' yules and nog up some eggs. It's everyone's favorite holiday- Logan's birthday. Well, technically not for another month, but with holidays in such quick succession these days, who can really keep track? Who, for that matter, can even update a blog-thingie? Evidentally, not me.

I know i've been a lazy sclacker recently, and that for all that most of you know I have once more fallen off the Earth, or perhaps been devoured by the serpent which roams the edge of this flat world (YAARRHHH, here monsters be...) but I promise I will update this page soon to let all of you know what I'm doing and what plans I am laying for the future. For the time being however, I am merely trying to work, and I've been typing so long now that my wrist is about to revolt. I wonder if I could get a workman's comp case for all the paimy wrist gets in from making endless coffee? Myeh. TANSTASFL. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch. So yes, updates soon. Much love.

A cry for help to Logan's parents: ADOPT ME!! The high today is 74 as autumn approaches and I've been bundling myself every night for the past week in my dwindling collection of hoodies. Hardly an issue for a person of average body temperature, however I've no seal blubber for protection and the knit of my cardigans will never caress my skin like the oceany sunshine. It's too difficult to pour tea with heavily mittened digits. I need an island!!

[/end whining]

P.S. - Logan - I will no longer abuse my author privileges (priv-uh-luh-gez)

Or at least that's what it felt like all last weekend. Kat and I, bored of the tedium of job hunting, decided at the last minute on Friday to take off up to Eugene for the wedding of our two dear friends Sam and Taylor. For anyone who's not in the know, the whole madness of the past year would not have been possible without their hospitality and love. Last summer, when I had gone on vacation from Hawaii (sounds a little confusing, I mean who vacations FROM Hawaii?!?), I stopped off in Eugene to visit with some of my old friends from Venture Data- that ass-sucking job that I had for two ungodly long years. Coincidentally enough, at the same time Kat was living up in Eugene with Sam and Taylor, trying to figure out what she wanted to do over the next year, as she had decided to take a break from Santa Cruz- strangely enough for similar reasons as I decided to take a break from Hawaii. Her roomates were taking a year off- one to go to Germany, the other just for the fun of it- and she didn't want to go through the hassle of finding new best friends. This is pretty much the exact same situation I found myself in at the end of that same school year, so we were both transients with no plans for the future (you'd think that would have changed in the past year, wouldn't you?). Anyway, I crashed at Sam and Taylor's place and Kat and I found ourselves hanging out and doing crazy Eugene things and when the time came for me to go back to Hawaii, I sort of just went to California instead and embarked on the madness that has been the past year in the life of Lolo. Yeah, that's a long story compacted into several long run-on sentences, but it's the Cliff Notes version and we're saving the expanded version until someone buys the movie rights.... or not.

Anyway, we went to Eugene. Sam and Taylor had decided to get married at the site of the Oregon Country Fair, one of the most beautiful and magical pieces of woodland that I've ever had the honor of traipsing through. Little shacks cobbled together out of scrap wood and nestled back amongst the trees. Structures with high towers set up near the treetops and covered in a deep emerald coating of moss. A little fairy land far removed from civilization, and we had it all to ourselves this weekend. The wedding ceremony took place next to a beautiful twisted tree that formed a perfect arch above the couple as they recited their vows, and once the reception was over and the family had dispersed back to town- to free themselves from the endless assault of bloodthirtsy mosquitoes probably- there were only close friends and family left with the whole of the fair to themselves to run around in. As the sun set and the kegs became tapped there were increasingly frenetic rides down the dirt paths on a golf cart that had been rented for ferrying the elderly from the parking meadow to the ceremony. There were many pirate abductions to be had and hideouts to be made up in the towers- which proved a little treacherous to Kat once the sun had completely set (we never did make it back to the car to get the flashlight). And, as a stroke of genius, the couple had set the wedding on the night of the full moon, so we had plenty of light streaming through the trees for us to see by. I was absolutely enamored of the woods at night, and the way that the moonlight created a fairytale setting, looking for all the world as if the fair had been dropped right out of an old brothers Grimm illustration. All in all, the most exquisite time I've had all year- and the most beautiful as well. No matter what I've seen in Europe, nothing compares to the splendor of the woods that night, nor the beauty of the bride in her dress and the love at the ceremony. It was the most wonderful homecoming I could have ever had, and fairly made me ache to live in Oregon again, which I would do in a heartbeat if not for the endless rains that envelope the world come fall.

The next morning we departed early, as we had a looooong drive ahead of us again. To prepare ourselves for the arduous task of sitting on car seats for the next 8 hours, we stopped at Cafe Yumm! Possibly Eugene's most satisfying restaurant, for all the simplicity of it's food. We sat and savored a large bowl of Yumm, which is nothing more than rice, beans, cheese, avocados, and their secret ingredient- Yumm sauce. I maintain this is little more than distilled opium, for to taste it awakens a craving so intense, so deep, that you know you'll need some long-term rehab to kick your Yumm addiction. Luckily, they sell Yumm sauce by the bottle, so we brought one down with us to feed the monkey for the next couple months. The drive was rather uneventful, aside from a short nap at a rest area as the two of us were both worn to the bone from the excesses of the night before. I maintain that California is called the Golden State, not for the gold that was found in the hills, but rather for the color of the vegetation. It was a shock to leave the lush hills of Oregon and drive through the barren wasteland that is Northern California, though it was a good way to mark when we were halfway done with the drive. All in all, a great time had by all. Many many congratulations to Sam and Taylor- no one deserves each other more than you two and I hope you enjoy every moment of it.

Oh yeah- Kat was motivated and finished uploading all of our pictures to the yahoo site. You can check them out through the link over there on the right that says "Pictures." We have some nice shots of this weekend that I may toss up at one point, though I wouldn't count on it, I'm not exactly a swift fella.

So I've been back in the states for a week now, and may I tell you what a head trip it has been. In the seven short days that I've been here I have participated in some of the most classically American activities possible and truly enjoyed them. You know how you don't know what you've got till it's gone? Well, I didn't know what I'd lost until I had it back.

I landed on Tuesday in San Francisco and was met at the airport by that most wonderful chica of all chicas, the highly-esteemed Kat. We spent the night at her brother Dave's flat in the city and drove with him up to Sacramento the next day. Strangely enough I was suffering no jet lag, even though I had spent 18 hours on a plane without being able to sleep. Still, I did watch a Jennifer Garner movie 3 times (if I ever watch 13 going on 30 again I need to be put down like a rabid dog). Anyway, we drove up to Sacramento and watched Dave get a rental truck for his big cross-country move. He's curently relocating from San Francisco, where he's spent the past 6 years, to Madison, Wisconsin, where the entire Butler clan at one point originated. After Dave got the truck we headed back to the Butler ancestral home where I had my first Mexican meal in over 6 months- and it was well worth the wait. DEAR MOTHER OF GOD!!! There truly is no better food type on the planet. I could eat mexican everyday for years and not get sick of it. At least, I've tried for several years and I have yet to get tired of it. This is definitely something that Prague was lacking, and makes me appreciate being on this continent again. I mean sure, late night trips to Picante were great, but that was Czech-Mex, and the Czechs wouldn't know spices if they came up and bit them in their snooty asses. Here I can be guaranteed that the salsa will have a bite, that the enchilada sauce will taste like enchilada sauce, and the rice will be mexican instead of jasmine. It's the little things that count, you know?

Anyway, after my greatly rewarding meal, I retired to a room to catch a small catnap before tackling the rest of the day. Something about sitting in a car for 2 hours in the sun that drains your energy. Oh yes, I forgot to mention, I met Kat's other older brother Tom and his girlfriend Dawn who were out here visiting her parents and touring the vineyards around Napa and Amador counties. He was the typical over-protective older brother, unsure of me and my motives- but that's to be expected. Kat is, after all, the youngest child in the family, and she did run off to Europe with me for an extended amount of time. I am definitely someone to be wary of if you're feeling protective of your siblings. Still, by the time he left he was warming to me a little (I hope). After I awoke kat surprised me and asked how would I like to go see a drive-in film that night? I was excited. Not only had I not seen a film without Czech subtitles in WAY too long, but I had never been to a drive-in before either. What could be more classically American? Kat and I both possess a love for things classically old and out-of-date- we're both walking anachronisms torn from an age we feel would suit us better and tossed into this technophilic society we call modern times. Or we're just 90 y.o. masquerading as twenty-somethings. Who knows? So, delighted at this opportunity we loaded up the car with soda and snacks and headed out. It was a double feature- a Brittany Murphy comedy called Little Black Book (absolutely atrocious, they should shoot her before they let her make another film) and Spiderman 2. This would be the third time I've seen Spiderman now and every time I see it I like it more and more. Kat on the other hand was not impressed. I claim that this is because she didn't read the comic books while growing up- whereas for me they were very important books in my formative years and I'm overjoyed that they've followed the main story arc so well, as well as playing up the moral dilemmas that Peter Parker feels being torn between using his powers for the saving others and pursuing he love of his life. A powerful message, and appicable even to those without superpowers, as one of the characters states even "intelligence is a gift, to be used for the betterment of mankind (sic)." Good message, something that's lacking from a lot of films these days. But I digress...

The next day, Kat and I stayed mostly at home, and after a while cabin fever set in and she found herself antsy so we baked cookies. Once again, how classically American can you get? It was fun and we passed some time this way (and the cookies were delicious). Her temp agency called as well and offered her a job working with an auto insurance company, so her employemtn problem was solved as well. Mine is still up in the air, I'm still waiting for the agency to contact me, though I'm definitely relishing the chance to re-aclimate to the strangeness that is American living. Though I am loving the cheese. Czechs have cheese, yes, but it is no way near as good as a solid sharp cheddar. Or a colby jack. Or freshly grated parmessan (we could enver manage to find parmessan at Tescos in prague, a constant source of irritation). Straight up, on the cheese front the score stands America 1- Czechs 0.

That night, Kat and I drove Tom and Dawn down to the city so they could catch a flight home to Minnesota, and we could help Dave load up the rental truck with all of his stuff from his apartment. We showed up too late to help pack, but he had much assistance from his friends so things got loaded in a timely fashion and we went down to the ocean to have a bonfire. This, for me, is quite possibly the greatest thing that has happened since my return. I love beach bonfires more than just about anything, and to be near the ocean again was practically transcendental. We didn't get to stay long as we had to get to the airport, but it was long enough for me to fall in love with water and fire again. I've spent too much time in cities recently, and need to remember that the things that I love most in the world are outside those borders. I truly don't need much else other than a nice view of the sea and a roaring fire to make me content. I think I'm going to try to spend as much time as possible out in the woods while I can, at least until the weather changes and the rain sets in. Luckily, Kat was way ahead of me, as she typically is.

Saturday we loaded up the car and took off for the hills. We went to the same park we had gone to the year before, Big Trees State Park out in Calaveras county, though tis time we were able to find our actual campsite rather than sleeping in a picnic area as we had done before. It was a cozy ilttle campground, right next to a small creek, where Kat and I ended up laying in the sun and throwing stones into the water until the sun ducked behind the trees and we decided it would probably be smart to gather some wood before we lost what little light we still had. We gathered up a small pile, that we continually thought was too small and would in no way get us through the night, and sparked a blaze in the fire pit. Once we had a good layer of coals going, we broke out our one source of nourishment for the trip- smores. The quintessential camping treat. What more do you need than smores and beer? And we had both in ready supply. Dechutes Brewery was well represented among our selection with my personal favorite Black Butte Porter and their new seasonal brew Twilight Ale (which is remarkably good, though a might too hoppy for me to drink regularly). And of course, Kat brought out a small supply of Pete's Strawberry Blonde ale to sip in the sun. There truly are very few beers that taste as good in the sun as Pete's Strawberry Blonde and Summer Brews. We discovered this the preceding summer while lounging in a friend's backyard in the high end of summer up in Eugene, Oregon. That night I freaked myself out with thoughts of zombie attacks (I have seen Dawn of the Dead far too many times now and find myself pondering what to do in a zombie emergency quite often) and we ended up seeing a small red fox lurking among the trees- which was the closest we came to seeing any actual animals aside from squirrels the entire trip, though the rush of seeing the fox was enough for me to be happy. This is California, not Montana, they don't get herds of elk crossing the road at random intervals. I'v been feeling nostalgic for the NorthWest recently, and desperately want to make a trip up there to camp and visit old friends sometime before we set off on the next leg of our voyage- no matter how many months down the line that is. After all, I still need to find myself a job.

Well kiddos, I'm gone.  Leaving the great expanse of Europe for that pie in the sky, that apple of our eye, the cream of America- California.  Blech!  I know, I swore I would never live there again, but it was either that or lose the love of my life.  Besides, it's only a stopping off point.  A chance to pay off debts and plan our next sojourn into the wild.  Hawaii remains where I want to be, especially with all three of my old roommates returning from their year off.  Dan got booted from Cornell so may be moving back.  Burns got tired of snowboarding in Utah and has decided to give school another shot.  Even K-Ball has returned from the Big Island and will be taking up residence at school again this fall.  I need to be there, if only to provide a counter-balance to forces I know will be in play.  Who knows, maybe I'll make it for school in winter semester, that would be ideal, though as we all know with me, everything is up in the air. 

Right now I can't look any farther down the line than an 18 hour planeride (with NO BOOKS) and the beautiful girl waiting for me at the end.  Truly, it's been all I've been able to think about for the past week, which has maybe made me not appreciate this last week in Europe, but c'est la vie.  This town was played out for me months ago and contains no more surprises for me to uncover.  Whenever this occurs it's generally a good idea to get out of dodge and find a new situation.  And while I've lived in Stockton cumulatively for a year now, I've never resided in Sacramento, so maybe it'll be better.  At least there might be more to do there than Stockton- definitely so as I have my favorite sidekick accompanying me.  Monkeys and cats, cats and monkeys- nothing better describes Kat and I.  I have the whole Henry James quote around here somewhere, but I don't remember it right now.  My mom was sending me quotations of him this morning, and we both feel that we've found a kindred spirit in his writings.  Myeh.  I don't really know what else to say, other than to quote that other oh-so-quotable man, Frankie S, and say "start spreading the news, I'm leaving today.  I want to be a part of it.  NEW YORK, NEW YOOOOOOOORRRRRKKKK!"  Oh wait.  I'm not moving to New York.  Maybe later....

Or in my case, two weeks or so.  Give or take a week.  I don't know, I've never been too good at that time thing.  Big happenings in the land of Lolo.  Long and short of it is, I lost my job at the hostel.  I don't know where it went, maybe it's hiding under the dresser, but I am now unemployed in prague.  Luckily, I have a loving family who does not want to see me homeless on the streets of an evil Bohemian city, so I am staying in a hostel and flying back to Cali on Tuesday.  I would go into details as to how the job up and vanished, but I've repeated the tale to far too many people so far and lack the energy to explain it again.  Still, it's all for the best, all it does is speed up my timetable of plans by about two weeks.  I was planning on ditching this former Soviet republic by the end of August anyway.  Now I have no choice but to flee.

These last days in Prague have done little but remind me how much I do depend on Kat to keep me sane.  I do very little but sit in the park by the river and read books, and I've seen just about every movie that has come out in the past week.  Today I treated myself to a screening of the classic Terry Giliam film Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas- starring the incomparable Johnny Depp and the much esteemed Benicio del Toro.  Truly, a defining film of my life, though not half as much as the book was.  And as good pieces of literature (and film) are prone to do, it got me thinking.  Thompson remarks throughout the book and film that despite all the drive and all the energy that the movements of the sixties had going for it, it still petered out into nothing and despite all the hype for consciousness expansion it still left people unprepared for the cold hard slap of reality.  I've been feeling rather the same about Kerouac's dream recently.  His voice lends motivation to so many, sets so many people off on quests to see, to do something different, but through it all we all end up doing the same things.  I think a lot of this was addressed by Alex Garland in his book "The Beach," but I didn't realize it for myself until after I started working at the hostel and meeting so many travellers of so many different backgrounds who all did the same thing, went through the same motions, and had the same discussions.  Are we doomed to go through the same actions that have been repeated since time immemorial?  In all of our striving to be something unique, to do something that has not been done before, are we all falling into the same pit?  In this age of increasing connectedness, is there anywhere we can go where we won't be followed by the tourist hordes?  Any place that we can keep secret for ourselves?  If there is, I increasingly believe it is on an atoll in the South Pacific.  Maybe the lost city of Atlantis is floating out there for us to discover, or the lost continent of Mu.  This is why we need to colonize space.  We need new frontiers, and Alaska is just too cold for me.  There are always going to be those people who need to explore, who need to find something new, and in this new world, there is no place for them.  SAVE THE NOMADS!!!!  Yeah, I rant.  Anyway, there's a line at the computer, so I guess I'm done for now.  Much love kids, see you all soon.

So yes. Kat has returned to the wilderness that is America and the world mourns. Who knows when we shall be reunited, though there is no other goal more foremost in my mind at this point. Truly, she is a more addictive drug than the purest black tar heroin available from the reaches of Afghanistan. She needs to be reclassified as a Schedule I narcotic and pursued by the DEA. Believe me, the withdrawals you witness in Trainspotting are nothing like the Kat withdrawals that I am going through as we speak. Though, I have to admit, the first day was the worst- I still feel an unnatural craving to have her at my side. After the most painful 45 minute departure of my life, which had both of us re-enacting the cheesiest departure scene from a 1940s romance flick, all except for the running alongside the train as it pulled out (I restrained myself at the last moment as the train took my love away). Truly, that is a moment I never want to revisit again, which is why all of my effort and ingenuity is directed at reuniting myself with that wonderful creature as soon as possible.

As I left the station, a thunderstorm suddenly broke overhead. What a perfect follow-up to the days already hellish events. The weather here is changing every 15 minutes anyway, but this event following so appropriately on the heels of the farewell did little but prove to me that I can control the weather. Just call me Storm... Anyway, as everyone else in town ran to pubs and awnings to stay dry, I walked down the street slowly making my way home. Nothing better than a freak thunderstorm to help me wallow in misery. Eventually I found myself in our local pub, Cafe Archa, across the street from my flat. I sat sipping dark Krusovice for a couple hours, watching the gutters fill, overflow, and run down the cobblestone to the river. Finally, with the rain slacking and my thirst thoroughly quenched, I paid up to the cute Czech family that runs the pub and crossed the road (now river) to my building. Sitting there in the doorway were two teens from Poland who were travelling with their parents and had nipped out for the night- after procuring several bottles of wine. I struck up a conversation with them (as I was rather desperate for some company after the day's events) and ended up sitting on the steps drinking with them until we finished the bottles. After a brief stop-off upstairs to ue the toilet and pick up a bottle of vermouth that we'd had around since the ill-fated night of absinth martinis when Jack was here, we mosied down to the river. The kids had found an old abandoned tunnel along the length of the Vltava a little ways down past the Charles Bridge, and we all know how much I love holes in the ground, so we headed there with all due haste. The tunnel was awesome. The entrance was flush with the earth and had a large swinging grate covering it. To enter you had to pull the grate up and then jump down about 3-4 feet before you hit ground- luckily the tunnel had been untouched by the rainstorm or I am sure we would have jumped into knee-deep water. Only about a meter across we had to go single file and hunched over, like morlocks from some long-forgotten future. The tunnel winded along about 300 meters before widening into a small room, and the three of us stood up gratefully. Lit only by the lighters we carried, it took us several moments to determine the size of the room, and several moments more to locate the large vault door mounted in the back of the room. Our imaginations ran wild and several suggestions were tossed about, though finally I think we decided that it was a long forgotten Soviet experiment station, where they were testing to create Soviet supermen to defeat the capitalists. Or maybe that was just the wine and vermouth talking...

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
She's gone much too long
Any time she goes away


Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
Wonder if she's gone to stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime she goes away


I know
She's gone to stay
It's breakin' me up
Anytime she goes away
Gotta leave the young thing alone
There ain't no sunshine when she's gone


Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone



Ahhh the wonderous Bill Withers. He has always managed to hit the nail on the head. There certainly ain't no sunshine now. Today is melancholy, regret, and pain. Why am I eternally cursed to be stupid?