Widukinds Diary Entry #29: the Adventures of Widukind Part 2

Mac Mall makes it to the first page on Google Images for a "shrooms" search!

After my saccharine escapade (remember this for later), the rest of Sunday night was spent relaxing in Hampsterdam before heading out to my friend's friend's place out in Leiden for the night. A third night of sleeping on the floor while sharing a room with 4+ other dudes was a serious blunder, as well as a strong no homo. Widustradamus' bold prediction: the next time you have to decide whether to use your sweatshirt as a pillow, blanket, or mattress, you are not going to sleep well.
The rising sun was celebrated by taking some doja al duomo and heading out in to sleepy Leiden to procure some funny fungi, a venture that proved quite successful. On the train ride in to the city, we began our consumption, and our hearts giggled with glee, though our stomachs grumbled grumpily and our mouths groaned, "gross!" (Chicks dig alliteration.)
My buddies had to check in to their hostel, which predictably was a disastrous yet hilarious affair. Their booking of course had gotten screwed up, so while they toiled to formulate cohesive sentences with the ladies at the desk I went and sat down on a couch to relax. Finally they had everything sorted out and went up to their room. After about 15 minutes of waiting for them I got worried, so I approached the desk and attempted a reconnaissance mission. It was pretty clear the conversation wasn't quite going to be held up on my end when I opened with the question, "Where did my friends go?"...as if they had any idea who I was or where I came from. They politely asked who I was talking about, but by then I had already decided to cut my losses so I told them "I'm just going to go back over here".

Unfortunately, I had a train ride to Dusseldorf to catch, so I had to depart prematurely. Widustradamus' bold prediction #2: the next time you chose to do shrooms and sit on a train for 2 1/2 hours, you will not have a fun time. All of my previous experiences with magical mushrooms have been absolutely stellar, each in its own way special, eye-opening, and simply awesome. This sojourn, dear readers, was no walk in the park. Not only was it not easy, it didn't consist of one, while all of my other shroom trips have (a walk in the park, I mean). Instead, it consisted of me sitting on my train paranoid out of my mind about: A) falling asleep and having my bag stolen, B) missing my stop in Dusseldorf, C) how the hell I was going to find my hostel, D) the angry Tiki-Dolls and bearded skull-pirates I was seeing in my jeans, and E) my reflection in the window that kept morphing in to a demented skeleton.

I dunno...could be a good look for me

I didn't freak out or anything, but I certainly was not very comfortable. Shrooms are a remarkable drug; the psychology behind them is truly astounding. Each time I had delved in to their world before, I had left, in my humble opinion, a greater person. There wasn't something I could point my finger to and put on display as a "Here, This is How I am Better" exhibit; it was just something I knew to be true. However, this experience, governed by a predetermined location and activity which I had no ability to change, was completely different. I had to be on that train, I had to be sitting in that seat, I had to watch my bag, and I had to get off at a certain time. It wasn't even as if I wanted to do certain things, yet was unable because I was on a train; I was completely devoid of any options whatsoever, so my mind floundered and simply hit a rut. While my first experience on shrooms led me to fill up an entire 50 something pages with random thoughts and doodles, this time was the complete opposite. I couldn't come up with anything that inspired me or even interested me. Because I wasn't having much fun, I harkened back to that first time and I tried drawing in my notebook to calm down. I had no idea what I was going to produce even as I sketched the first lines; I ended up drawing a rain cloud. It scared me, so I stopped.
Though certainly no expert, I have done shrooms enough to have developed an addage I pass on to any others who are doing them for the first time: "Don't have anything planned. You'll just do what you want to do, and that will be enough." Foolishly, I went against my own advice and found myself trapped. The result was less than desired. I had wisely eaten a smaller dose, resulting in an overall weaker-trip, so I didn't truly freak out and bite off my neighboors earlobe. But I didn't have much fun either. Lesson learned.
Arriving in Dusseldorf after three nights of awful sleep and coming down from my shrooms trip, my brain felt like a banana does when for some reason you thought it would be a good idea to keep it in your backpack all day like an idiot. I spent about 45 minutes wandering around in a mindless stupor, got the exact same three directions from people, consequently forgot them, and then finally find my hostel. I was extraordinarily ecstatic to find out that I had to wake up at 3:00 AM to catch a train out to Dusseldorf-Weeze, Ryanair's middle-of-nowhere-fucking-piece-of-shit airport.

She wasn't there.

After waking up after my fourth consecutive night of non-sleep, I wanted to kick a fucking panda in the fucking face, take a massive diarrhea in to the cavity where its cute little fucking dopey eyes used to be, and then send it to PETA with a note, "GARGUAGHGHGHGHG!!!!". But I didn't.
Humble readers, I hope you remember what I told you to remember at the beginning of the post. You see, at 3:00 AM on Tuesday morning, my stomach decided to kindly remind me that I hadn't taken a shit since at least Saturday night. This wouldn't have been all bad if I hadn't spent all of Sunday high. But, the bowl of Wok to Walk, a huge plate of chips and guacamole, and a gigantic bag of candy of epic proportions (not to mention a whole bunch of shrooms) was still sitting, nay, brewing, excellently in my stomach. A perfect storm erupted within my bowels at around 3:13, punishing my innards with immense ferocity, causing them to roil and quiver at its excruciating pangs. On the walk from my hostel to the bus station I had to stop twice altogether and grasp my sides, bending over in agony, seething through my teeth and brimming with fury at my pathetic anguish. At one point I actually looked around and wondered if anyone was still out at this ungodly hour who would catch me taking a dump in the middle of the sidewalk. But, nay, dear readers, I soldiered on! I made it to the bus in time, only to have the most godawful bus ride in the history of things that are godawful...45 minutes of my groin feeling like a concubine in Genghis Khan's tent: fucked, and hella pregnant.
Finally, in the most triumphant of triumphs, I made it to the airport and ran to the WC.

Fuck you, Dusseldorf-Weeze

That is all for now. Until another time...

Widukinds Diary Entry #28: the Adventures of Widukind Part 1

No homo

Our hero hath returnedeth from his journey. Many of you may not even know of what journey I speak; simmer, humble reader, and let my silken words woven of venture, woe, and weather steer your hearts.

Taking a clue from (more like completely ripping off) one of my fellow and favorite internetz scribez0rz, I will allay to you some tales in pure diary fashion accompanied by pictures, in the form of which "Widukinds Diary Entry" has never seen.

This past week was my week-long winter break, allowing me time to leave the Eternal City that I have come to love and explore some of Europe's fine cities, nations, and people.
My first stop was Copenhagen, Denmark. A charming old place, Copenhagen is clean as a whistle. Each Dane seemingly owns like 8 bikes. It's kind of cool, but it's also kind of annoying when you're walking around and unwittingly amble in to the bike lane and hear some poor Danish person screech to a halt before slamming in to you on their bicycle. I find it incredibly entertaining simply because bike/pedestrian clashes have to be one of the more awkward things you could witness. I didn't actually see one, but try and picture it in your head and tell me that's not funny. As one would expect everything works to a tee there; even if the metro from the airport is late, they are kind enough to inform you en route, unlike the surly Italians who couldn't give two flying fucks. It's also absurdly expensive; fitted hats were "on sale" for $75. My buddy from Emory who I stayed with has a studio with one bed and a mini-kitchen that costs him $7,500 for the semester.
Of course, Copenhagen's pride and joy (no, not the fucking stupid mermaid), is Christiania. When you walk in to the "neighborhood" there are large signs that proclaim "You are now leaving the EU"...you're not, but I guess the Danish think it's cute so they let them play their little game. Inside is a big open-air market with tons of stalls selling any smoking device, accessory, or gimmick you could ever imagine. Of course, beyond those are the actual goods:

Look familiar? Actually, though?

There are literally guys standing behind stalls with weed and hash laid out with names and prices in front of each, in the middle of a city in which marijuana is illegal. It's a fucking trip. Not only that, it's incredible quality and it was probably the best deal we got during our entire stay in Copenhagen. Christiania, FTW.

Friday night was ruined when we met up with some "kids" from University of Richmond:

Yes homo

I put kids in quotations because I simply don't regard them as humans. I'm not even fucking kidding, we walked in to a room with ~20 of these dudes all sitting around drinking beer, without a single female present. My mind was boggled to an extent at which further boggling was no longer feasible. Wisely, me and a few friends decided we would rather sample our earlier purchases from Christiania and hit the proverbial hay. Luckily, my roomates in Rome from Richmond are actual Homo sapiens, unlike these blood-sucking douche-bags.
Saturday night was the infamous Sensation White festival, from which the opening picture of this entry originates. Not really much to say here; though I don't fux with hard drugs this was one occasion where I would have done so, responsibly of course, but they were harder to find than Steve Slaton in the FUCKING ENDZONE OMFG YOU ARE MURDERING MY FANTASY TEAM YOU FAT FUCKFACE. Given that it is Copenhagen all beers were $10, so the night was for the most part spent quite sober. However, it was still a blast. Ecstasy or cheap beer would have made it hyrogen bomb-esque, but c'est la vie.
Sunday I jetted out of lovely Denmark to Hampsterdam. Though it was raining when I arrived, it was good to be back. I arrived ahead of my roomates from Rome, so I met up with a few girls from my program and smoked at their hostel, the famous "Flying Pig". There I had the pleasure of meeting this guy Mack from Redwood City. I will fight legalization of pot until I die, but this is one guy that at least makes you stop and think. Given that I was quite blazed, his series of increasingly depressing answers to my basic questions made the conversation practically unbearable. He was home-schooled from 2nd grade through high-school, dropped out of LA Music School after one year because "fuck real school", and worked his "ass off" at his brother's plumbing company until he saved up enough money to take a break and go to Europe for a month. He went to London, then got to Amsterdam and had spent the rest of his time there. Which, though suspicious, I thought could be cool given that he could have gotten to know the city quite well and been able to see some things most in-and-out tourists don't...I thought all of this until he answered our question, "Where's a good place to eat?" with, "There's a Hard Rock right down the street that's really good." Three weeks in one city, and the one restaurant he could name was the Hard Rock cafe, even after we asked him again and told him we didn't want to eat at the fucking Hard Rock cafe. We also asked him for any cool bars we could check out (this was asked twice, slightly differently and at separate intervals in the conversation) and he answered the exact same way both times: "there are a few bars and clubs right around here that are pretty cool". "Right around here" was, reasonably of course, signified by a lazy raise of his arm and a lethargic twirl of his index finger.

Homo mackius

After finally shedding ourselves of this amicable cretin, we got some dinner and then walked in to a candy store. I can't remember the last time I had been in a candy store, much less high, and much less a mind-blowing Dutch candy-Valhalla. I was like a...like a...dung beetle in an elephant herd's fresh turd mound. Prolly the analogy I'm looking for. I didn't take a picture of my spoils, but I can assure you even the Namesake would have been proud of my sugared-coated exploits.

This post is expanding rapidly, so I shall pause here for now. The next chapter of my journey includes some magical entities finding their lovely way in to my stomach, albeit with quite uncomfortable results. Tune in next time for the continued European jaunts of Widukind the Fungivore.

Music link drop!

Alright, been a little slow on the blog recently. J's post gave me the idea of just throwing a few songs out there. You guys may like them. Given I'm the provider in this circumstance, though, my guess is they won't impress. In fact, Hartichoke should probably save himself the time and not listen. Definitely not his style.

But in case Electro has caught your fancy at all, here's a few songs. First, I posted this song already in the comments of John's, so if you already clicked the link then bravo, and you can just skip to the next video.



Duck Sauce is A-Trak and Armand van Helden. Two famous DJ's. A-trak is pretty nasty. Younger brother of one of the people in Chromeo. More on him later.

This next song you guys more than likely won't like. A bit weird but I'm pretty into it. A remix of La Roux's "I'm not your toy" by Jack Beats, a sick London-Based producer.



Alright the next two songs don't really have videos, but they're both really good. The first is A-Trak's remix of the Yeah Yeah Yeah's "Head's Will Roll." It's pretty nasty in my opinion. Here's the song via youtube:



Okay but that may not actually be the best remix of the song so far. John Roman, another somewhat well-known DJ, made his own remix. Have a gander:



Personally I think the first three minutes of John Roman are better, but his end isn't good. A-trak's is pretty good all-around.

And just for shits and giggles:



Hope fall is sick for all of you.

Ich bin ein Berliner.

where has this been all my life...

it has been too long since my keystrokes have graced the pages of dahf. it doesnt mean that i dont love it, i am just a picky guy. someone who need something big to discuss and share. a small outfit from philly came out with an album this summer, and it is pretty bumpin'. here is the video from one of their singles "pon de floor". you may say that this video is crude, but to me it is one of the most educational that i have seen in years. next time i need to [which will hopefully be tonight..shwing] this instructional tape may come in handy. watch closely, you may miss something...

Major Lazer "Pon De Floor" from Eric Wareheim on Vimeo.

love you all. j

Come look at how good my pictures look...

I've been uploading my pictures to Picasa.

I call the above, "What the fuck, dude?" from my growing album, "Italians Are Weird". Check it out if you know what's good for you and your momma.

Widukinds Diary Entry #27

My dearest friends, it has been far, far too long. Now, now, let’s not get all huffy about it, and cut right to the chase.

Topic 1) I’m pretty sure that my invention of heated closets is probably about as good as it’s going to get. But, I really like this one: hot-tubs with massage chairs built in. I really don’t see why this would be so hard, or how it would not be absolutely awesome. If this was Imaginationland, I would propose the real cash-cow: build a hot-tub…with a massage chair…that sits in a hammock. I’m still working on the general physics to that one, so we’ll stick with the first idea for now. I’m really starting to put together my future house. So far I’ve got three absolute musts: heated closets, a hot-tub with massage chair, and a kebab grill machine locked and loaded 24/7 in the kitchen.

Topic 2) In my last post, I mentioned my quest to answer the age-old question, “what does the Pope do all day?”. Well, I haven’t gotten it answered, but I kinda forgot about it, too, so I’ll keep working on that. However, a burning set of questions that I have been able to answer are: “What kind of porn do Italians watch? Is there Italian porn? Or do they simply kick back with some of the magnificent cinematic triumphs of lovely San Fernando Valley, imbuing the unparalleled talent that constantly oozes from the area like lava from Mount Vesuvius, snaking its way down the slope, inflicting slow, painful and slightly erotic death?” Still with me? Good.

The answer (actually, the second one remains unknown) was provided to me by a friendly Italian student who works with our program named Vincenzo. Vincenzo is a funny guy. He looks like a Trekkie. The back of his head is extremely flat. While we were in Naples and a few of us were commenting on how much of a shit-hole the city was, Vincenzo said “They [Neopolitans] are all fucking savages” and, later asked when confronted with an exorbitantly priced cannoli: “Why don’t they [Neopolitans] all fucking die?” Quite a quotable character. But, on with the story. We were down in Naples and the Amalfi Coast on a school trip, of which 4 students were guys and about 20 were girls. Vincenzo was telling us how at one point on one of our lengthy bus rides, he had fallen asleep, and subsequently woken up surrounded by a plethora of beautiful American bzs. As he said to us, his first thought was, “Did I just wake up in a Bang Bros film?”

Question, answered.

Next in line: “Skype Sex…where do you point the camera?”

Topic 3) Lighting would fuck me up if I was some sort of tribal dude prancing around in a loincloth. Lightning and thunder. What would you think if you had absolutely no understanding of what lightning and thunder could possibly be? When you think about it, it makes perfect sense that mankind’s first reaction was “someone up there is fucking pissed.”

Topic 4) See above, but replace “lightning and thunder” with “volcano” and “up there” with “down there”.

Topic 5) I flew to Munich for Oktoberfest with four other kids from my program here. Of us 4, 3 had big things of contact solution, yet only 1 of us got stopped at security. On the way back, the people at Swiss Air noticed, but reminded me jovially, to “bring a smaller one next time!” On my way to Sicily this weekend, no one noticed. Today on my way back, they had me throw it out.

Europeans, stopping maniacal, explosive-jelly-wielding-21-year-old-exchange-student terrorists, one-third of the time!

Out like my ideas for this line right now.

Click for full-size picture...