Oh man...

So, although this is long overdue, I've recently realized I'm not very good at interacting with the fairer sex. The female psyche is much more complicated than my typical thought pattern. For the most part, I'm pretty straightforward. Most of my friends will tell you that I usually don't censor myself. If I'm thinking something, I'm bound to say it, despite if it's a ridiculous compliment or harsh criticism. This can result in some less than ideal conversations with the ladies (and some dudes). I've always thought honesty was the best policy. Apparently all that shit they teach about lying to women to make them feel better is true. The problem is that I hate lies. Telling the truth can get me in trouble.


When it comes to desire, whether it be material objects, food, or sex, I know what I want and I'm pretty easy to please. I just want whisky, heavy metal, and something tasty. Dudes can have an orgasm in the middle of tornado while thinking about a pile of dead puppies. However, with the ladies, it's all about the mood. The problem is that at 28 years old, I feel hornier than I've ever been. I think I need to take some saltpeter or something (although the claim it induces impotence is a myth). I actually think it's due to all the weightlifting and protein. I'm probably producing more testosterone these days.


I know I'm definitely harsh and a pig. The insane thing is that I've never been smacked. I've been told by several girls that I'm a "charming pig". This has led me to believe that my personality is fairly palatable. However, I think that only works in small spurts. Maybe for those who have known for me years the charm has worn off. Oh man, I have a lot of work to do.

My Death Shrine...

I am fascinated with dead things. In particular, I find skulls to be very beautiful. I have a collected a few skulls along the way, which includes those of an otter, a raccoon, and a small bird which I believe is a sparrow.

I also have gathered the bodies of a few dead insects, including two dragonflies and two cicadas. One of the cicadas is the common annual cicada (tibicen linnei), and the other is the elusive 17-year cicada, or magicicada, that appeared two summers ago (2007). I love having one of these in my collection.

I actually have a death shrine in one of the hallways in my home. It's a recessed shelf in the wall were the telephone should sit. My house was built in 1935, so there are some cool features in the design. My dead specimens sit there for those who might appreciate them.

As far as my skulls go, I bought the otter skull completely intact from a store in South Dakota. The bird skull I found when gutting a house; it was inside the wall. I found the raccoon skull in the woods in Bull Valley any I had to clean it with a bleach and water solution and let it sit in the sun. There were still a few maggots left in the brain cavity.

A few weeks ago, a dead robin was found in the corner of my driveway. The bird was completely intact and feathered, looking as it did in life aside from the obvious lack of movement. I wanted to cut its head off and boil it to collect the skull, but Yankee Girl didn't think it such a hot idea. We agreed I would let nature take it's course for a few weeks and let decay settle in before I cut the head off.

Well, this past weekend, a wild animal had come by and removed the head, legs, and wings from the body. The body was missing and the head, legs, and wings remained in the corner of my driveway. The skull had begun hollowing out, so I decided to boil it. However, it was too delicate and a lot of tiny bone fragments began splitting off from the skull in the pot. Also, many of the feathers were not falling off. Thusly, I had to give up on collecting this one.

I really hoped to earn a skull this time, but I learned my lesson. Be patient and just let the flies and sunlight do the work. I wound up destroying something beautiful.

Chiming in...

Today I went to the gym to do my legs and shoulders weightlifting routine. I was doing some sweet upright rows when I overheard two dudes talking about people they know. At one point, one guy mentions a girl he knows that drinks Crown Royal straight up on the rocks. The other dude was somewhat horrified and made the classic disgusted look I see on a lot of people's faces when whisky is mentioned. At this point, I had to chime in.

Me: "Dude, it's not that bad. I drink whisky straight all the time."
Dude #1: "Really? Crown Royal?"
Me: "No, that stuff is a too sweet for me. I'm more of a Jameson guy, and I enjoy a good bourbon."
Dude #2: "Jameson? My dad says that stuff is distilled like seven times."
Me: "It's probably the smoothest blended whisky I've had. I actually have a bottle of Jameson 12 year at my house right now."
Dude #1: "Wow. Straight whisky? I'd be down and out if I did that man."
Me: "Ah, you get used to it."
Dude #2: "Well, you drink like a real man. I just stick with beer."
Me: "Actually, beer tears me up worse than whisky."
Dude #1: "Really? That's weird."
Me: "Nah. Whisky just cleans me out."
Dude #2: "Wow. No hangover?"
Me: "Not really."

The conversation pretty much ended there. By the way, Jameson is distilled three times, not seven. I often forget there aren't that many whisky drinkers out there, and that the subject of it freaks a lot of people out, much less seeing someone drinking it straight up like "a real man". It's always fun for me to scare bartenders when I first order it. This just leaves me to wonder...who is this awesome chick he knows that drinks whisky straight up? She sounds dreamy!

Drunk fun...

Here is my recent response to one of my friends posting a blog regarding America and our shadowy past. Fair thee be warned, this is a moment of drunkeness:

My only critique is regarding the south. The south had one general. The north had six. The north only won because the south ran out of provisions. Maybe in one instance the south was smarter than the north. Those north generals didn't have shit on Lee. Wow prejudice! But in all seriousness, the north only lost because general Lee didn't have the supplies to survive. It's strange to think how the American society would be different if it wasn't for us winning, and by "us", I mean people thinking it's totally not okay to enslave people. You know what I'm talking about. Although I'm ready for post-apocalyptic society so I can kill and enslave people how I please. Yay freedom!

Sonic Assault...

So, my buddy and I jammed on Wednesday for the first time in what felt like ages. Actually, it has probably been only a couple of weeks. We both play guitar and we are into a lot of the same music, and we get along like peas and carrots. Anyway, we have been wanting to get a new project going called Murderboner. Yeah, you read that right. We were previously in a metal band together, but that went south. He and I have been talking about starting a technical death metal band for some time. Of course, being the people we are, our previous practices have not been that productive.

However, Wednesday was better. We actually completed our cover of "The Bleeding" by Cannibal Corpse and it didn't sound too bad. Better yet, we came up with some solid original material that made us want to jizz in our pants. It sounds pretty brutal and I hope we can write enough shit to record. If things get rolling, it would be great to get a full band together again and play some live shows. Then maybe one day, my buddy and I can fuck the ear-pussies of a willing audience with our sonic assault.

Becoming a Spartan...

For the past two years or so, I’ve been pretty hell bent on getting in shape. Yankee Girl keeps telling me I’m sexy, but the most important opinion is that of oneself. I’m into weightlifting and cardio, as well as eating healthy. The problem is that I like to supplement my extreme workouts with some good old boozing. This of course nullifies a lot of my hard work, but I love to party and have a good time. Just ask my friends and they’ll tell you no one parties harder than Leland Sage. Consuming alcohol and causing some trouble is one my talents.

So this past week, I made a decision to change my approach. I save my extreme drunkenness for the weekends, but I also usually have been consuming 3 to 4 drinks each day during the week. I know in America this may be viewed as alcoholism. I think I just live in the wrong country. So, this past week, I did not have any drinks Monday through Thursday and I ate very well. My nutrition was mostly based on low fat proteins, fruits, and salads. As for liquid nourishment, I relied mostly on water, as well as some tea and juice.

My workouts are fairly vigorous, consisting of 20 to 30 minutes of heavy lifting, and then 30 minutes of interval-based cardio on the elliptical. I did this routine for 4 days straight. I also complimented my workouts by walking a total of 4 miles this week from my workplace to the gym and home. The result of not drinking for these past four days was immediately apparent. I lost 7 pounds in 72 hours and my stomach trimmed up a lot.

Now it’s Friday, and I’ve had about 4 shots of Jameson 12 year and two bottles of Guinness. However, I am totally ready to rock the gym hard Saturday and Sunday morning. I am ready to become a Spartan, and hopefully, a male dancer. The money would be good. I don’t do anything half-assed, whether it be exercising, partying, or showing my junk.

The Iron Beast...

Today at work in the midst of my protocols, reports, and red tape a mile long, I was doing a little daydreaming. My mind kept wandering back to last weekend, when I was riding my ’89 Harley Sportster. Although the ride was only for about 10 minutes around the block, it etched a lurid memory into my brain. It was the first time I had been on the iron beast, and it was fucking sweet. I could feel the engine rattle my bones every time I gunned the throttle, and it made me smile. That machine has some balls; I know because I could feel it rattle mine too.

I have my motorcycle license and the beast is insured, but it still needs to be registered. Consequently, I am limited in my ride time and distance. Yankee Girl and I are getting the necessary paperwork and license plate in order this weekend, so we have to go visit the wonderful Department of Motor Vehicles. I have frequently heard negative opinions about the DMV, but usually things go pretty smoothly for me. What I have noticed though, is that government workers always appear to be smug or pissed off. I guess the general public might affect me in such a fashion as well, but I digress.

Once I have my shit in order, I cannot wait to get on the iron beast again. I’m pumped for everything that comes with the territory, such as my body reeking like oil and gasoline, getting pelted in the face by insects, seeing the ground move right below me at 60 miles per hour while thinking gruesome thoughts, and the first time my ass falls asleep. Until then, I’ll keep going noisily around the block and pissing off the neighborhood.