tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56352222011-04-21T16:59:35.952-04:00The Anarcho-Hedonist DailyTales of Pleasure and DebaucheryJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comBlogger311100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1114388232453044442005-04-24T20:16:00.000-04:002005-04-24T20:17:54.670-04:00This fella Lane (sp?) works and lives in the Presidio. He does habitat restoration and the federal government pays his rent. He just walks around the Presido all day learning about edible plants, native animals, and what have you. An ideal (idyll) life if you ask me. Last night, Beth, Annie and I went to meet him there and he took us to a lean-to that he built out of invasive plant speciesJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1114388130023349092005-04-24T17:13:00.000-04:002005-04-24T20:36:45.920-04:00 9PM- Did the Wiggle Drank Wine. Ate Pot Brownies. Drank Jägermeister. Changed Houses. Drank Whiskey. Ate Grilled Cheese. Went Camping. JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1075598762597652722004-01-31T20:26:00.000-05:002004-01-31T20:27:39.810-05:00PADDY SUNDAES
1 can Guinness draught
1 tub vanilla ice cream
2 large red wine glasses
Fill the two wine glasses with vanilla ice cream.
Open can of Guinness and pour immediately over ice cream until glasses are full.
Let settle for two minutes
Slainte!
JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1074895372719204642004-01-23T17:02:00.000-05:002004-01-23T17:04:22.140-05:00In San Luis Obispo, they have this junior police task force called Snuffs that go around to parties and write up noise complaints. They are dullard collage seniors that have walkie-talkies and ticket books and wear yellow polo shirts.
I first came across a pair as I was leaving a frat party after it had run dry.
“Do you live here?” one of them asked me as I walked out the front door.
“Nope,” JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1074809232513910422004-01-22T17:07:00.000-05:002004-01-22T21:37:02.403-05:00Things may have been out of control last night when you wake up and are confronted with “Did you drink my contact lens?” and you stare at them blankly while an “Uh…” emanates from your parched throat. “They’re $700 contact lenses. I’ve had them since I was 12.” This last statement instinctively invokes an immediate and firm “No.” Meanwhile, you are slowly comprehending what is being said. ImagesJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1074728679959991662004-01-21T18:44:00.000-05:002004-01-21T18:59:57.950-05:00Central Coast Odyssey- General Summary
Shaun meets me @ the Amtrak station in Oxnard, CA last Tuesday night (jan23). Warm weather. Sleep on rooftop downtown.
Wake up. Took bus to Ventura. Man on bus gives me 13 old pesos. I give him 250,000 Turkish Lira. 9AM in Ventura, met dirty kid carrying 3 22s of malt liquor. “What? You guys aint drinkers?” he asks us. “No,” we say, acknowledging that we JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1073854418145958432004-01-11T15:53:00.001-05:002004-01-12T15:53:58.700-05:00TWO CRAWL TO, THROUGH GRAVEYARD
Neighbors were awoken at 2AM Saturday night when dogs began barking at what witnesses described as two intoxicated youths scrambling on the ice behind the cemetery.
“From what I could see, it looked like two punk kids slipping and sliding on the ice, falling down, and laughing hysterically,” commented Abe Rothsfield, 72, who was awoken by the dogs and security JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1073854409260834332004-01-11T15:53:00.000-05:002004-01-12T12:33:40.340-05:00My Dad took me out to dinner and to a few bars Friday night for my birthday. Before dinner we stopped in at County Cork, which was three doors down from the restaurant, to have a few pints before hand. It wasn’t a bad pub and I deem it safe to call it a pub do to the fact that there were little children running around.
Among the Irish beers they had a wide selection of local beers on tap, whichJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1073347711759073802004-01-05T19:08:00.000-05:002004-01-05T19:09:43.390-05:00It Cures what Ails You
I awoke this morning with a splitting headache, which provoked me to consider an ante-jentacular hefeweizen to smooth things over, but finding that we were fresh out, I climbed back into bed for another hour to sleep it off instead. When I reawakened, I didn’t feel much better. But then, while offhandedly digging around in my nose, I managed to excavate a nice-sized nuggetJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1073180380077111912004-01-03T20:39:00.000-05:002004-01-03T20:40:49.293-05:00Inner City Golfing
Let us take a minute to observe one of life’s many joys: the projectile. Whether it be a rock, snowballs, an empty 40oz container, or a wayward golf ball, the thrill of letting one fly and the sudden rush of excitement as it hits connects with its target is unsurpassable.
Last night, four of us stepped out into the night with a bag of golf clubs slung over our shoulder and JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1072921666518304912003-12-31T20:47:00.000-05:002003-12-31T20:48:52.700-05:00It snowed, it snowed! A very exciting event in the small town of Portland, Oregon. It hasn’t snowed worth a damn in Portland since I was a kid. At about seven o’clock yesterday evening, snowflakes began to fall. By nine, we had about three inches! Three fucking inches! Yes, I know, to the New Yorker, this is nothing, but to the Portlander, this was a miracle. Such high spirits soared that we JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1072742384815074462003-12-29T18:59:00.000-05:002003-12-29T19:50:11.653-05:00I suppose an entry is long overdue. This is for two reasons: the first is that I’m back in Portland and it’s raining, and the second is that I have been sick with the flu. There is nothing hedonistic about rain (unless you’re running around naked in it) or illness (unless its mental).
But, anyway, I want to tell of a most wonderful outing to an all-you-can-eat buffet-style seafood restaurant,JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1071524934582751692003-12-15T16:48:00.000-05:002003-12-15T16:49:44.780-05:00Saturday’s Pub Crawl was a long, grueling experiment in endurance and innovativeness that left me at the end of the night completely sapped. Hereitype found us, Southern Seth and I, at 9PM on the couch in Grand Press silently staring at the floor, where lie the half-devoured remains of three birds. It had been a tiresome journey: two and a half blocks of Grand Avenue, six hours of conversation, JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1071341960195806712003-12-13T13:59:00.000-05:002003-12-13T14:00:08.170-05:00In only ONE HOUR, I have a date with the Chicken Lady at Iona's on Grand where they have Free Beer! Free Chicken! Free for ALL! This is the stuff what Saturdays are made of! JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1071276515726167912003-12-12T19:48:00.000-05:002003-12-13T14:02:47.246-05:00THE TRUST GAME: Psyche Experiment #3
Right, so what we have here is a little experiment called the Trust Game. It’s all about sharing with “people” and trusting these “people” to share with you. First, let’s meet the “people,” my partners:
We have Steve Thompson, a graduate from Iowa State, who, while partying in New Jersey, rescued a girl from burning nightclub. Next up, there’s Alex Rhine, JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1071172845997162712003-12-11T15:00:00.000-05:002003-12-11T15:02:09.403-05:00PSYCHE EXPERIMENT 2
A couple of days later, I was back for more. This one was run by a cheerful fellow with a strong Northern European accent who was more than happy to have me as his guinea pig. The test was thirty minutes long, paid ten bucks, and involved electrical shocks. “De are not painful,” I was told, “Only a liddle uncomfortable.” Well, shit, that’s twenty bucks an hour. “Sign me up JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1070912231502565742003-12-08T14:37:00.000-05:002003-12-08T14:37:54.843-05:00 The first experiment I participated in was called the Money Reward Card Game, an exercise in cruelty, if you will. The test was administered by computer. On the screen, blank cards appeared and I was to guess if it was a high card or a low card, which was indicated by the number on the other side. Numbers one through four meant it was low and numbers six through nine meant that itJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1070583477735258042003-12-04T19:17:00.000-05:002003-12-04T19:18:37.670-05:00Money has been tight lately, ever since I got laid off from my high paying job with the theatre, promoting Golf: The Musical (a round in 18 songs). I was getting ahead of myself with that gig, which paid ten dollars an hour under the table for ‘six’ hours of unsupervised work a day on the streets of New York City. Over the course of this brief three-week stint, I had developed a weekly traditionJoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1070498031745478062003-12-03T19:33:00.000-05:002003-12-03T19:49:21.983-05:00ANARCHO-HEDONIST REVIVAL
Okay, so I haven’t been keeping up with this page. I started it in the summer as an incentive to write everyday. Needless to say, that plan was very short-lived. Unfortunately, I find it much easier to write in the sweltering heat of the summer than in the stuffy heat of an apartment in Brooklyn during the winter. I need to move somewhere where it is perpetually warm. JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1062020206773142662003-08-27T17:36:00.000-04:002003-12-03T19:16:42.500-05:00Death of a Rope Swing
Sacramento: Where the Rope Swing Swings and the Dumpsters Sing! Yep, that’s Sacto, with dumpters bursting at the seams with Odwalla and the big ole tree hanging over the American River with the rope hanging down, suspended just above the waterline. I’ve been going to Sacramento at least once every summer for the past three years, sometimes more, and every year I look JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1061787213876378642003-08-25T00:53:00.000-04:002003-08-25T00:53:33.760-04:00Sacramento!!!!JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1061288815117889952003-08-19T06:26:00.000-04:002003-08-19T22:24:38.556-04:00 Movie Reviews
Another hot day in P-town. I went over to Texas’s for dinner. He put liquid smoke into everything. Afterwards we went over to Congress to see if anyone wanted to join us for a movie.
“Hey, you want to come see a movie with us?” Texas asked Amy Moon.
“No,” she replied, “I want to drink.”
“So do we!” Texas said. “But, were going to get drunk in the A/C.”
“I think I’ll pass,”JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1061159397878963142003-08-17T18:29:00.000-04:002003-08-19T21:14:24.050-04:00 The wisdom teeth came out on Monday. All four of them. It wasn’t that bad, really. I spent all afternoon in an anesthesia daze and it lasted well into the evening time. I had to anchor my foot back in reality every few hours to change the bloody gauze and pop more pills, but other than that, the first day was quite nonexistent.
By Tuesday evening I was just barely able to eat solid food, JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1060384644585415182003-08-08T19:17:00.000-04:002003-08-17T15:40:43.690-04:00As we all know, Thursday night is normally allotted to CC Slaughter’s and their seventy-five cent well drinks. We upheld the tradition last Thursday, which coincided with the downtown First Thursday art walk, which grows more grotesque every month. I hadn’t been there since the last time I was in Portland, which was last summer, and I was taken aback at the immense proportions it has taken on. JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1060302571657732552003-08-07T20:29:00.000-04:002003-08-09T07:10:10.990-04:00On Monday I got up at the ass crack of dawn to phone the dentist’s so they could refer me to an oral surgeon. My wisdom teeth were coming in and my gums were enflamed and swelling around my back molars. It was getting hard to eat and sleep. The vicodin I scored on Sunday night afforded me a decent night’s sleep, but by morning I only had one left. After I made the necessary telephone calls, I JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1060059487250968952003-08-05T00:58:00.000-04:002003-08-05T01:24:40.126-04:00Ever since Friday afternoon, I’ve been experiencing a terrible pain in my mouth. My wisdom teeth are coming in on the bottom right side of my mouth and my gums are swelling around my back molars. It’s been getting progressively worse with every passing day. Now the pain is excruciating. To counteract this, I’ve been eating Ibuprofen like it was candy but that has done no good whatsoever, so JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1059974630939274362003-08-04T01:23:00.000-04:002003-08-04T01:25:00.643-04:00BEGINNING OF THE NIGHT
There were two mini kegs of beer in the basement. No cover.
“How’s the beer?” “Very hoppy.” “Execellent.”
One or two hours of free beer go by. Then the kegs gone. There was a fair amount of people there.
“I feel like a bath,” Opie says to me. He'd been wanting to take a bath for the last couple days now.
“All right. Let’s get that shit started,” was my reply.
We got JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1059870136242553322003-08-02T20:22:00.000-04:002003-08-02T20:22:16.293-04:00I Saw U
Friday night. I caught a glimpse of your beautiful figure silhouetted against the porch light, your head tilted far back, taking a swig from a 40 ounce bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon. The bare bulb light refracted through the brown glass bottle and shined a spectrum of unsurpassed style and class into my eyes.
JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1059870093052610602003-08-02T20:21:00.000-04:002003-08-04T01:28:30.300-04:00CC Slaughters
Jesus Christ, does the name not say enough? It was a few years ago when I had first noticed this bar and the clientele walking in and out of the place. Very butch men, clad from head to toe in black leather and chains. They had huge muscles and lots of chest hair and were holding hands. I looked up at the sign above the bar and in jagged letters it read: CC Slaughters.
At JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1059784712063513332003-08-01T20:38:00.000-04:002003-08-04T04:44:24.776-04:00Yesterday was the last Thursday of the month and in Portland, that means that the art galleries all along NE Alberta Street are open. It’s a half-ass version of downtown’s First Thursday and a humiliating attempt to revitalize what was once, ten years ago, one of Portland’s most dangerous streets. First the punks moved in, followed by all sorts of yuppie restaurants and new age businesses. At JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5635222.post-1059698637265805752003-07-31T20:43:00.000-04:002003-08-04T04:48:06.280-04:00There’s a heat wave in Portland, Oregon. The temperature is in the high nineties and I thought that it would be a nice to ride my bicycle out to Blue Lake Park, about 20 miles east of the city. I met Texas down by the bike shop on MLK Jr. Blvd and Fremont. All he had was two bicycle wheels.
“Where’s your bike?” I asked him.
“It’s in the shop. Frame’s bent.”
“All right, hop on.” We tied JoyceLesliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04772502064722515378noreply@blogger.com