guitars I own:
late 60's, red burst Kimberly made by Teisco
all black fender squire bullet with a Carvin Twin blade at the neck, and other mods I've added.
fall of 1966, red burst Stella model O, serial no. 4792H 931
early baby taylor
1970's 12-string Dorado (this one may still be my dad's)

Non sequitur of the day:
I intend to wait untill marrage, which isn't hard when one has no one to date. There just are not enough girls my age in my church; evenif there were, I would probibly just mope around about it. But, as a saying I saw on Andromeda goes: "The forest is always empty when one is a bad hunter". I feel as if I am the worst. I tire of seeing people in my old senoir high Youth Group getting paired up with a member of the oposite sex for courtship purposes, young couples getting married, ect. It is like the time I went to prom alone with the naive ignorent idea that I could go with bells on and get togather with friends (I had none), or at least a group I knew.
It all failed. I was stuck at a table of couples I had nothing in common with. I ended up gorging on their high class four star french food which they never touched, because they wanted "real food"... "we gotta get some greans with hamhocks up in here" or some soul food like that. The only dances I know are line dances from church and I think I can waltz, this kept me from going to to any single girl because it was all rap and sappy r&b crap. but it wasn't like there were any single girls there. Even the least poular girl who I used to eat lunch with and talk to because no one else would, got a date (we were both outcasts infact, and she had this speach impediment that wasn't helped by spanish being her first language and english, second).

I tell my self that a young lady won't fix anything but I keep wanting one anyway. Dang sex drive makes me depressed; I have to repress new thoughts and desires in order to keep my kind respectfull mannors in place. Though bottling up a feeling is never healthy, and I feel the possable effects of it; when they are of a lustfull nature, scociety and I must keep them hidden.

Sorry about that, no one cares or wants to read that depressing crappy jibberish anyway. So how about my recipie for hot chocolate...

Nathanael’s Hot Cocoa
Makes one mug

1 mug of milk
2 Tbsp. cocoa
2 Tsp. Sugar in the raw (or Lyles Golden Syrup)
1 Tsp. Honey
1/4 tsp Vanilla Extract
a pad of butter (Aprox.1 tsp.)
A pinch of salt (optional)

Put all dry ingredients in a saucepan; add enough milk to make a thin paste when whisked together. Wisk together over low heat, add the rest of the milk and everything else left to put in from the ingredients list. This is also good chilled as chocolate milk.

Chocolate can't heal but it sure do taste good.
Maybe that is why i am 6' and 200 lbs. If you ever want to meet me, I am the nice guy no one pays much attention to. Oh, and I was also that bookish kid in middle school every one picked on that would sit against the brick wall during recess reading. If you see me, please sit down next to me for a chat.

mowed the lawn today, then it started to rain. how does one post a picture on this blog.

will this get read?
Probibly not, for I intend to post not only my english homework, how my music playing and guitar repair is going, and how my MGB-GT or MG Midget is doing but also of my depressed whining about how I wish to know what having a girlfriend is like even though it may not be the best time in my life for one.

Let me introduce myself, I am a twenty year old mennonite kid that lives just north of Chicago. I recently was a freshman at Columbia college, and am transfering to Bluffton U. in Ohio this comming fall. I am a potter of average skill, as well as a guitarest who used to play cello and would like to go back to it. I live with my parents and the last real job I had was as a roofer/contractor for someone I know who runs a business so small it doesn't leagaly exist.

I consider myself a nice guy, and I tend to treat women respectfully unless I'm sleep deprived or somthing. I do make/tell bad jokes when I am bored or nervous, so bear with me on that. I enjoy machining metal into steam engines, fixing small brittish cars, flying dual line kites, music, lititure, model making... A real jack of many trades, master of not much. As far as girls go, they eventualy tell me, "You will make a great husband one day (but I won't date you)" one even said she liked that I could repair stuff, but she already had a boy freind.

Oh did I go off on that kind of tangent again? Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, evil Zoot! Oh, she is a bad person, and she must pay the penalty. Well don't say I didn't warn you.

Maybe I should post some interesting pictures I've taken, but for now all I have is this poem, I don't claim it to be good or know what it means. All I know is I wrote it.

"Roses being blue
Lotus flowers too
This wont make sense
Let silly commence
Underneath a lavender hue"

Came to my mind in bed
as I felt half dead
poems wrote down
that go in a round
before I sleep like Nightmare Ned

Writers block asleep
so past it I creep
at twelve o' five
a paper's contrived
and I type till my brain doth weep

Roses blue
"What a thing to say"
I thought yesturday,
"How did I come up with that?"

I am sleep deprived
That's how it arived
but no matter,
It's what keeps the roses being blue.