Trying something different

We were in Santa Fe, NM, for the last few days. Our hotel was a couple of blocks away from the Santa Fe Plaza, so we spent a few days there checking out the shops, eating, etc. The main street there is San Francisco St., which runs along the south side of the plaza and has shops on both sides for blocks, so we ended up walking up and down it a few times every day.

Yesterday was our last day there, and we were going to check out the Palace of the Governors and New Mexico History Museum on the north side of the plaza. Instead of taking the usual route, I suggested we take Palace Ave., which forks out of San Francisco a block or two before the plaza and then runs across the north side.

It wasn't really that interesting: we passed by the side of a hotel, a realtor, and the backs of a few buildings. Eventually we came up onto a building next to the New Mexico Museum of Art which had a few galleries in it. One of them was the Chuck Jones Studio Gallery of Santa Fe. As in the motherfucking Chuck Jones, the animator and director of Warner Brothers and greatest hero the world has ever known. His first gallery was in San Diego, but apparently he came to Santa Fe every year to attend the Santa Fe Opera, so he opened up a second gallery there in the '90s.

So we spent 45 minutes in a goddamn wonderland of animation cels and paintings that wasn't in any of our travel guides or maps. And for the rest of the day I was figuring out how much of the gallery I could buy if I sold all of my stuff.



Yeah okay, that's not really an exciting story. Gamingforce, tell me about a time you tried something different and something awesome happened as a result.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

In an attempt to 'try something different' I've booked a flight to Russia for next wednesday, on a 3 month visa. I don't have a job or accommodation to go to.

It remains to be seen whether anything awesome will happen from this or rather I'll just die in a Moscow gutter with record blood alcohol levels.

But as the Russians say кто не рискует, тот не пьет шампанское. "He who doesn't take risks, doesn't drink champagne". Although I prefer the more British He Who Dares Wins because I don't like champagne.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

I flew across the country to visit for 4 days--I've never been to Maine, and figured I could use a tiny graduation gift to myself. I figured I meet different people on occasion and meet my share of internet people, but flying across the country just to do so was odd enough.

Turns out I fall in love with 27 fucking awesome people on this planet I wouldn't have otherwise imagined they'd be that great in person.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Once, I accidentally used pickling salt instead of kosher salt on a pork roast for my wife's dinner party. Needless to say, the party was ruined, and DeAnna kicked me out of the house. I spent a week wandering the mean streets of Marietta. I learned two things from that experience: always double-check the label on your seasoning agents, and never steal cigarettes from a hobo.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Some classmates of mine and I decided to rent a large enough vehicle for the lot of us and drive instead of taking the bus on a regular trip we make. We spent about seven hours getting to know each other on the trip, and had a much better school year because of it.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Going on a night out alone? The first time I ever went to a psytrance party I ended up doing this because my ex backed out at the last minute, and I thought "fuck it" and jumped on a train there anyway, meaning I would be in a city I didn't know very well with 99% of people there being total strangers and the other 1% people I only knew in passing, spending 8 hours in a venue I'd never been to listening to music I didn't know well at all, and after it finished having to wander the streets of said city alone for 2 hours before the trains started up again.

Fucking. Ace. Night.

I got talking to one of those acquaintances and it turns out we had more in common than I thought. I enjoyed the music immensely, and I talked for two straight hours to two people I'd never met, and had their company and eventually the shelter of one of their houses after the night finished until the trains started up again, and we've remained good friends since. I developed a love for psytrance parties, people and music that has stuck with me until this day. I don't know how I lived my life without them.

I need to go solo more often. Last time I did that I got three dealer's numbers and invites to some savage underground parties. I just don't usually have the balls.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?