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Below are the 25 most recent journal entries.

	2007.09.27  10.57 As per Elliot's request, the freaky deaky shit: Went to the dischoteque in Paris last night; fucked some guys. It kinda sucked cuz it was ladies' night so their weren't very many hot guys. I'd say five out of the ten guys there were bonable. I boned six. Five of them were the unbonable dogs but they made for some pretty fine dogs bones all the same. Tonight I meet this hot guy at the Sacré Coeur and so help me God we're gonna fuck.

	2007.09.24  17.08 Bonjour mes amis, For anyone who's interested, I started a "travel blog" intended for both friends and family while I'm in France for the semester. Si vous voulez... http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/wlwilkin/pau-2007/1190643060/tpod.html I think my grandma's going to be reading it, so I'm probably not going to talk about the freaky deaky shit very often, but I'll probably figure out away to be retarded and inoffensive at the same time, like Napolean. Bonaparte. His tomb is enormous, by the way.

	2007.07.29  17.29 I just posted a song from my new side project, Wilkinson Family Singers. The song is "Hello Delilah," a parody of Plain White Tees' "Hey There Delilah." Recorded and performed by my little brother JP Parody. Check it out on my space: www.myspace.com/wilkinsonfamilysingers

	2007.05.20  17.02 This morning at church. As Pastor Terry moves into the benediction, he asks Joni to come up to the electronic keyboard and play something soft in the background. "Sin is what keeps us from obtaining true intimacy with God, and with others as well. We must come clean with God before we offer our worship to God, and we need to be honest with Him about the sin in our lives. Atonement for sin must above all be made with God, but the necessity of reconciliation applies to all." He quotes Matthew 5:23-24: "If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift at the altar. First go and be reconciled with your brother; then come and offer your gift." All the while Joni is playing the softest melodies I ever lain my ears upon. And then twelve-year-old Chance Stine creeps onto the stage with his Hawaiian shirt and alto sax and accompanies Joni as the entire congregation sings I surrender all, I surrender all, All to you my blessed saviour, I surrender all.

	2007.03.16  00.18 Alright ladies, I'm quitting livejournal. I don't think it does me any good. I won't delete my account. Just don't expect me to have read anything you posted on this thing, for those of you livejournal friends whom I actually see in person. Oh, and don't think this has anything to do with my posts on lattices. I would have continued with that joke, but my computer fried earlier this week and I haven't had the extra time to worry about lattice jokes. Oh and hey, everyone should post their favorite Will-entry and vote on which one was the best! Just kidding, I'm not Holmgren ;) BEAVER HAS LEFT TEH BUILDING

	2007.03.06  23.54 i had to give a fucking speech on lattices today. itwas bullshit FIVE MINUTES ON LATTICES could barely fill TwO anyways, i opted for small lattices as posed to big ones cuz small ones easier to show class. i in fact even made one myself MORE ON THAT LATER mes petits copains!

	2007.03.06  01.04 climbed a lattice today reached the top of the lattice and looked down to see all the other lattices littering loiterin in the great plains i have a pet hawk with an eye that can spot a lattice from a mile away i grab him by the talons and we fly we faly to the lattice sun son.

	2007.03.04  23.37 I saw a couple lattices today. One constituted the foundation of a water tower, the other was a portion of the hospital. It is important to note the other definition that I chose to exclude in my earlier post. 1b. a window, door, or gate having a lattice. If all my door needs to be a lattice is a lattice then that makes my door a lattice. Also, I can only speculate that if I tore the exterior of all of my walls down, I would find myself encaged in an enormous rectangular lattice.

	2007.03.03  15.11 It has come to my attention that lattice isn't such an uncommon word after all. Apparently, everyone except me has always known about lattices. To this I have two responses: 1. Why didn't anyone tell me about lattices? 2. I have of course seen the word lattice in books and articles before. I knew it existed in the English language, but the thing is that I never cared enough to make the effort to look it up and understand exactly what it meant. 2. I mean, seriously, how many of you would have been able to spit out that same definition I cited yesterday if I'd asked you what a lattice was? No one talks about lattices these days. 2. Except me. Because I'm apparently the only one with an appreciation for this word. You're gonna hear me talking about lattices all the time to make up for the way you guys have been taking this precious knowledge for granted. In other news, I rode my bike down Dubuque yesterday, but I was on edge the whole time. Dubuque is fine because it is smooth and always clear of snow, but I always feel on edge when I'm on it because I feel like I should be in the right lane, but I always have to turn left. Also the cars drive pretty fast on Dubuque, and given that it's such a major street, there's no telling what kind of crazy might be driving on it.

	2007.03.02  13.42 Wow, I just discovered this great new word: Lattice, pronounced like lettuce, except it's Lattice. Definition: 1. A framework or structure of crossed wood or metal strips. 2. a regular geometrical arrangement of points or objects over an area or in space. I hapt across it when I was reading about reflecting telescopes in my astronomy text book. It was describing the parts of the telescope shown in the image above, and it kept saying shit like, "The primary mirror, at the bottom of the Lattice tube," and "the secondary mirror, located in the smaller central Lattice." I was like, what the fuck is a Lattice. What the fuckLattice</b> in the dictionary, and discovered the beauty of this word. It doesn't really refer to anything specific. You just use it if your other fall-back words don't work. know what I mean? It's not really a structure, it's not an apparatus, it's not a tool tool, and of course you can't just call it a thing. It's a Lattice. See the connected bars and frames on this reflecting telescope? That's a Lattice. I actually don't even understand what I'm looking at here. All I know is that there are a shit-ton of lattices. Hahaha. This is actually just me putting off doing my online astronomy homework. In other news, Bloomington is hands-down my favorite street in Iowa City. No contest. It offers the smoothest ride for my bike. No bricks. No bull shit. No one-way bull shit. Iowa Street is OK, but I hate the stop light when it intersects with Gilbert. As far as the East/West streets go, I realize that they are at a major disadvantage, since they have to cross the major North/South streets, but seriously all of them suck anyway. Of course, if I had to pick, I'd go with Johnson, just because it leads to Bloomington.

	2007.02.22  23.09 I think Aldi may have stopped selling the good green beans. They used to be pretty darn green but lately they've still been green but not quite so. I'm not into that stringy shit, or that Italian shit, and definitely not that thick shit. When it comes to green beans, baby, Beaver wants the real deal.

	2007.02.11  22.35 This is an excerpt from an article I had to read for my German History class. It was published in 1920: Woman, however, forms herself according to the will of man. Otto Weininger divided the female species into mothers and whores. Many a poor young streetwalker belongs, despite all the external devastation, to the species of mother, and the clairvoyant would place many a well-bathed, nicely dressed mother of three, reluctantly conceived offspring into the other category. An overwhelming majority, however, belongs in the middle and vacillates between whoredom and motherhood. If a fortunate fate smiles upon her so that such a vacillating creature acquires the strong, protective, shaping love of an unspoiled man, then motherhood will release her from the drive to prostition. What a fantastically masculine thing to say! Of course, you have to admit he didn't pull it out of his ass. Still, under that logic, I suppose we could divide men similarly into two categories as well: loving fathers and... those who pay money to whores?

	2007.02.09  13.27 ELLIOT WHEN YOU GUN WRITE REVIEW FOR ME MIX CD

	2007.02.07  14.51 I finally got around to listening to the Rockapella CD that I checked out from the library (Primed Up), and it hasn't left my disc player since. Preferred tracks so far: 1. Falling Over You 2. Halve a little Faith 3. For the Love 6. Last Night 10. Where'd Carmen Sandiego go 12. Zombie Jamboree 16. Shambala* *Special CD Bonus Track Honorable Mentions: 5. Flaptop Twister

	2007.01.29  23.29 Seriously, guys, All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque is probably the most moving book I've ever read. Everyone in the world should read it. It's surprisingly short and easy to read for being a book about war, but it hits you where it counts. Most of the reasons I like it so much can be summed up in the short preface: This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war. NOICE.

	2007.01.28  13.16 I'm reading All Quiet on the Western Front, a World War One book focusing on a few young German soldiers. Here's an excerpt from one of the gruesome battle scenes: "We see men living with their skulls blown open... We see men without jaws, without faces; we find one man who has held the artery of his arm in his teeth for two hours in order to not bleed to death." God, never have words on paper made me cringe so much!

	2007.01.24  10.00 Being a junior in college sucks because that's when everyone turns twenty one, and everyone's party consists of the exact same formula: go to the Riverside Casino, and then go to the bar. I don't even care about the bar thing, though. It's the casino I hate. It's so mother fucking boring.

	2007.01.18  23.31 I called my mom tonight to tell her how my first week of classes was going. I plugged my phone into the outlet next to my computer so I would be able to surf the net (you know, check up on my villages) while we talked. Oddly enough, though, my wireless card, which I use to rip off internet from my neighbors, stopped working as soon as my mom picked up the phone. Even though I don't really believe in God anymore, I still humor myself from time to time by explaining these types of incidents in terms of God teaching me a lesson. In this case, God was clearly forcing me to focus all of my attention on my conversation with my mother, instead of distractedly responding to her with a bunch of lame yeah's and hmmm's. I actually convinced myself pretty quickly that this had to be the case, and so I became confident that my internet would immediately start working after I hung up the phone. Soon after that, I recognized the logical absurdity of what was racing through my head-- but I also recognized the grave implications that would be carried with it if my predictions turned out to be right. I decided it would be appropriate to pull a Gideon (that's the guy, right? With the wet cloth and stuff?) and strike a deal with God: If my internet started working immediately after I hung up the phone, then I would start believing in him again. Fair enough, right? Of course, I wasn't going to make it easy for him. He had the advantage, being God and all. So I felt entitled to try to fix it as much as I wanted during the conversation. Of course, I'm not very clever with this kind of stuff. I mostly just plugged and unplugged my wireless card and tried to log on to different networks over and over again. My mom and I were talking about some sort of major life decision she was about to make or something. It wasn't until just about the end of our fifty five minute conversation that I remembered to pull out the secret weapon: resetting the computer. I did that-- and wouldn't you know it-- the internet was working again. But by the time I opened up Internet Explorer we weree exchanging talk to you soon's and I love you's. It was practically a photo finish. See, you could argue that I got the internet to start working before the conversation ended. But the problem with that is that the internet was never given a chance to interfere with the conversation, which was the main reason God wanted to break it in the first place. So from that angle, God did exactly-- on the dot-- what I challenged him to do. My homepage loaded up at the exact moment that I hung up the phone. Of course, then you have to factor in the fact that I had the power all along to end the conversation whenever I wanted. The fact that I chose to end the conversation exactly when I did (which was several seconds after I knew that the internet was back in order) might suggest that I secretly wanted God to win all along. But if that were true, then why won't I just admit that I believe in God? ... Well, I suppose it's because the only evidence I have to convince me of this are ridiculous incidents like this one.

	2007.01.15  02.37 I went up to Madison, Wisconsin with a few friends this weekend for the 47th Annual Madfest Juggling Extravaganza. Lots of good stuff there, including a yo-yo contest where a skinny twelve year old kid in a size large T-shirt showed off his skills to the tune of Steven Curtis Chapman's "Dive." And in the rush I hear a voice That’s telling me it’s time to take the leap of faith So here I go! Luther yelled, "Walk the dog!" I thought it was pretty interesting to be able to see the extent to which girls participate in the juggling world. At the convention, which was basically just a rented gym space filled with people passing clubs, there was a decent number of women, and some of them were even cute. I can only imagine the Diabolo-sized hard-on that every single guy at the festival must have gotten at the sight of any moderately attractive girl who knew how to pass three clubs on a two-count. Most baffling were these three totally SMOKIN' high school girls who turned out to be performers in the Saturday night concert. Their group was called Les Filles and they did some amazing club-passing tricks for their age. Those girls must be an anomaly. How are they able to shop, look fashionable, hang out with their other popular friends and their boyfriends-- and then find the time to practice juggling several hours a day on top of that? I don't get it. Maybe I'll look them up on Myspace or something. Anyway, we also stopped by Mt. Horeb, a small Wisconsin town to the south of Madison. Mt. Horeb is unique for the sort of troll motif that it has going on everywhere in the form of statues, images on street signs, and names of liquor houses. The town is also semi-famous for its mustard. We visited the mustard museum, which offered a lot of facts about mustard all across the world. Did you know that in Europe they sell mustard in a squeeze tube? Just like anti-bacterial cream. I think that's disgusting. Also, Bulgaria sells a flavor of mustard called "Jewish."

	2007.01.09  10.33 I'm starting an emo-punk band called Awkward Silence. In other news, the Mezzanine just recently changed their name to Happily Never Nafter

	2007.01.07  12.59 http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2089-2535310,00.html I love the Drudge Report more and more every day. Thanks to Matt Drudge, I'm the first to know that the apocalypse is nigh. Israel plans to nuke Iran if the U.S. doesn't agree to intervene with more traditional military action. God knows what will happen if a nuclear bomb is dropped in the Middle East. I still hold to my hope that I will be alive to see the end of the world. All I ask is that America waits fifty years before it implodes. I'd like to experience at least five years in a retirement home before takes its course, allowing me to establish myself as the grand champion of BINGO. Of course, I'm going to have cheated to earn that title, but by then all my old fart friends are going to have bigger things to worry about.

	2007.01.04  16.38 My mom called me this morning about an Iowa career convention going on today in downtown Des Moines. Even though I don't need to be turning in any resume's until after I graduate college, I figured it would be worthwhile to check it out and get a feel for what job fairs are like. It's always hard to get yourself in the mood to go to something as lame and often stressful as what is basically a job interview, so I decided I would eliminate any pressure to impress whatsoever by attending the convention as I was presently dressed: in my plaid pajama pants and my Andrew W.K. shirt, with my crappy navy blue winter cap and fur coat. It worked, of course. No one wanted to touch me. They did, however, welcome the crowds of nervous young graduates sporting suits and trim hair cuts, working hard to impress all thirty or so potential future employers they might cross. On the other side of the booth it didn't always look much different. The young gel-haired dude representing Kum & Go, mustering all his strength to look like he wasn't my age, looked like this day was the most important day of his life. If he could prove that he could be professional beyond his years and provide Kum & Go the public image they deserved, then he would be at the top of the ranks at the gas station in no time. There is such a strongly enforced code and etiquette in the business world that I can't tolerate. The pressure to conform to a certain style of mannerisms, dress, and speech seems only suited for people who never could figure out a personality for themselves in the first place. I find it insulting. In "Pursuit of Happyness," Chris Gardner works his ass off to conform himself to be successful as a stock broker for the sake of supporting his son. In his case, the suit-and-tie world of building superficial relationships with others and constantly focusing on building clientele-- making money-- seemed like a nice fit for him. Well, good for Chris Gardner. But keep daddy out of that shit, daddy. Know what I mean?

	2007.01.01  23.48 Check out what Drudge just brought to my attention: It's a freakin dolphin boat. That thing can get up to ten feet of air. It's sweet. I'd give you the link, but I forgot the html for that. It's been a long time since my glory days on Angelfire!

	2006.12.30  01.19 There is a verb in the French language, tutoyer, which means to address somebody with the pronoun tu . That is, tu as opposed to vous. Vous is the formal pronoun, used with people like professional relations, your teacher, or a stranger you just met on the street. Tu is reserved for family members and friends. In English we only have one pronoun, you, which serves both functions without conflict. In this French romance novel I've been reading, the hot chick has viewed the hot dude her sworn enemy ever since he talked shit on her mom at the beginning of the story. Until, of course, that one inevitable night, at the soirée, when he somehow manages to charm her enough to the point where he musters the confidence on the car ride home to ask her if he can ask her a question. She nods, and he says, "Cela vous enuierait-il trop beaucoup que nous nous tutoyions?" He asks her if she is OK with them addressing each other with tu. It's like the preliminary step before asking a girl out. It's symbolic of the establishment of friendship, of "admitting" to someone that you value them as more than just an acquaintance. In English we don't really have anything like that... except maybe friending a classmate on Facebook.

	2006.12.27  19.00 Allison, I picked up Blood Meridian from the library today. If anyone else wants to join our winter break book club, the title is Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy. That's his name, right? It's like super gorey and stuff, so if you're into the fucked up shit like Sin City and Scarface then this might be right up your alley.