i'll have me some of them there french fried puh-tay-ters. mmhmm.

i went backpacking this past weekend. for me, backpacking renders epiphanies like senior prom renders poor life decisions, like snuggling with danny rose renders joy, like listening to nickelback renders sterility and mullets. here's the list:

- the world i live in is too freaking loud. i tried to sleep on my first night in the woods and the silence was oppressive. it sounded like white noise coming out of a marshall amp on crack. a gunshot now and then, maybe the sound of an el camino burning out on my block, possibly a few screams from a heroin addict running from a police dog and i would have slept like the dead.
- subconsciously, i'm still afraid of the dark. i woke up a few times clutching my swiss army knife and threatening to disembowel the zombies that were trying to eat my wife. turns out, chandler just had to pee. now she puts socks on my hands and slips me a few mickeys when i go to bed.
- my parents rock. i thought about this a lot whilst walking the trail. whether i was predicting the the severity of the impending storm, tying knots, making bombs out of pencil lead and snack packs, stalking possums, or starting a fire, i kept thinking about how great it was to be raised in the western PA equivalent of rural appalachia (sans inbreeding... i think). the 'rent taught me a lot about life, love, and skinning mushrats. mad props, mom and dad.
- the wife looks hot in a backpack, hiking boots and a doo-rag. actually, she'd probably look hot in a space suit or a moo moo, but she looked especially hot in the granola hippie garb. she is a forest fire.
- none of the crap that i worry about really matters. 12 kids show up to club? i'm a vegetable. car explodes? i hide under the bed and cry. i'm rebuked for one of the several million stupid and selfish things i do every day? you can find me at the nearest high bridge, preparing to do the world a favor. the clarity that one achieves by concerning themself only about which leaf to wipe with and how much crystal light to put in the purified iodine water can be staggering. the worst that can happen is death, and according to the bible, that will be like crawling out of an outhouse and into an olypmic-sized pool full of ecto-cooler, cotton candy, independent films, and lab puppies.


on another note, i think a kid might have broken my finger tonight at volleyball practice. coincidently, it was the same kid that i tattooed at an AM practice earlier this year (see previous post entitled "i play one mean guitar, and i can bench press a car"). kharma? i don't think so. if kharma really existed i'd be married to a 700 pound woman named gerty and i'd live in... oh crap.



give some love to:
matt allender. burn state college to the ground, brother... then swipe me at the dining commons.

currently watching:
scrubs. lots of it. praying that the good Lord will give me the sass and intellect to talk like dr. cox.

still cranking the:
rise against "siren song of the counter culture" album. i listen to this cd and i want to protest something... anything. so i come home and picket in front of my house until chandler makes me some buckwheat pancakes. the man is strong, but united as one, we can all get some pancakes. raise a fist!

awesome:
buckwheat pancakes.

quote more:
sling blade.

i think the word "raucus" is awesome.

i just had a lengthy conversation with a good friend about the impending apocalypse. apparently quite a few of the prophecies regarding "the big finale" have been or are in the process of being fulfilled (theoretically). this is a mixed bag. the pros of the situation include the relief that comes from never having to concern myelf with saving for retirement (totally buying lottery tickets for everyone i know), not having to clean out my car (betty's getting haggard and smells like feet and riccotta cheese, but now there just doesn't seem to be a point), and celebrating my 80th birthday with Jesus (He'll finally get me that Ronco Food Dehydrator, guaranteed). the cons are... everyone dying.

that being said, here are some of the things that i'll miss about existence:

sunsets, front porches, puppies, thunderstorms, young life, lilacs, guns, king crab legs, poetry, cigars, jack kerouac novels, iced animal crackers, duck hunting, volleyball, hibiscus tea, hay fields, mountains, man vs. wild, golf and kamikaze golf carting, that picture of tommy burkholder and danny rose holding hands, murph's blog, fat tire, the american west, chick-fil-a, dogwood trees, cliff dangling/rock climbing, habachi grills, my collection of OC dvd's, the deli, punk rock shows, cliff jumping, the appalachian trail, philly cheese steaks, the juggernaut video, skiing at alta and the canyons, pinstripe suits, river otters, mountain biking, pine forests, sleeping in, hang 'em high - rockets on halo, pirates baseball, the atlantic, history channel documentaries, running in cook forest, farm fresh cajun krab dip, the last of the mohicans soundtrack, chuck klosterman novels, warm humid nights, the caribbean, the state of colorado, ultimate frisbee, two mile run county park, dunkin donuts, white water rivers, raquetball, jeeps, chipotle burritos, woodchuck, the end of the mini wheats box, chaco sandals, watching people surf, harmonica jams, tattoos, the soul patch, possums, the continent of africa, stand up comedy, life as a house/beautiful girls/swingers/garden state/into the wild/the shawshank redemption, the violin, the smell of gunpowder, grilled marinated tuna steak, marathon and marathon training, roofing, a little softshoe now and then, sun dresses on the lady, sermon podcasts from mosaic and mars hill, this american life on npr, flying, betty, stouffer's macaroni and cheese, mr. T, walrus mustaches, little tree air fresheners, third eye blind, backpacking, guitar jams by campfires, the pennsylvania state university, little league baseball, a solid hot dog, smoky mountains national park, and wilford brimley.

working on the kyle taylor stigmata

i'm about to go buildering. twenty minutes from now i will be in downtown altoona walking around with a large square pad on my back (kind of like a black maxi) looking for buildings that scream, "ascend me... ascend me all night long". i will bleed. i will fall. i will get frustrated and kick solid brick walls. i will most likely be scolded by the police, possibly even arrested. i will walk home at about 2 in the morning covered with chalk, blood, sweat, and dirt. and it will be awesome.

not quite as awesome as real rock climbing, but this is what it's come to. i never realized how much i relied on the outdoors to keep me sane until i moved into a city and stopped hugging trees (instead, i now sit on my porch and scold the jr. high kids on the street for not having jobs). i feel like one of those tigers they steal from the wild for the zoo. "sorry we kidnapped you from that lush green forest that was full of food and chicks and unsuspecting villagers. here's a fake tree and a bathtub, though. enjoy." this is what buildering feels like.

for now, i'll make the most out of that hamster wheel.



listen to more:
barry white and slipknot

eat more:
panda

shout out to:
jed eby, who's about to get his marry on.

3

i apologize to those of you who are expecting a dale earnhart post (gone to race in a better place).

this post will at last dispell the notion that ben wygant is a skinny dude. this is me laying to rest all of the ghandi jokes, the offhanded comments from my father - "yer too skinny, boy" ("i consider you my third daughter", i read between the lines), and the looks of confused revulsion from the tailors at men's wearhouse ("these measurements can't be right... what kind of monster are you?" - tony the tailor). i'm 6'3". i tip the scales at a beefy 185. according to my college health professor, this is an average weight for a man of my height. due to my abnormally long appendages (i guarantee that this sentence will eventually render a joke from nate scott), my weight is distributed over a large area.

despite knowing for a fact that my weight is perectly healthy, i still have insecurities about my stature. why?


BECAUSE THIS HAS HAPPENED THREE TIMES IN THE LAST SIX MONTHS:









that's right 3 toilet seats. 2 in my own house, 1 in my parent's house. i'm just sitting there tearing up some crosswords and then BAM, i'm fishing myself out of the toilet bowl.

i eat because i'm sad and i'm sad because i eat.




jam it:
"point me toward the morning", by the matches.

confessional:
the seeds are my favorite part of the popcorn bag. this pisses off my dentist something fierce.

hip hop gangster shoutout to:
the viruses/spyware on my computer. can't even tell you how much i appreciate those 15 popups per minute, fellas.

Still Love This Song/Video

Angry. Fun. Innocent. Like a rabid chipmunk.



Today's Confession:
Two Mile Run County Park kept losing their old wooden trailhead signs throughout the park between the years of 1998 and 2004. Guilty. I worked at the park, and dubbed this era "The Reign of Terror."

Random Quote That's Getting Me Through My Day:
"I just gambled and lost." - Tommy Burkholder, March 2005, after sharting himself whilst playing cards in Park City on spring break.

Hip Hop Shoutout To:
Keebler E.L.Fudge Cookies. Rock my world, Wendel. Rock it.

Possums Can Have Up To 50 teeth and 17 Nipples.

Ben's 5 Greatest Moments In Pansy Emo Kid Punk Rock Music Jams:

5. The little "woo!" in the breakdown from Brand New's "Logan to Government". A convenient little pause for you to either toss the Fender Strat over your shoulder, hitch up your skin tight girl jeans, or cry a little bit because your girlfriend sounded a little distant on the phone last night. Life is pain.

4. The intro to "Carousel" by Blink 182. I hear this intro, my testosterone surges, I punch the nearest kitten.

3. "The truth is you could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt." From Taking Back Sunday's "You're So Last Summer". I don't even like the song. And if a girl slit my throat, I'd probably just gurgle a little bit as she took her purse back. Then I'd go towards the light. But the line defines the genre, and kids who toss the hair out of their eyes everywhere quote this in their IM profiles. I felt obligated.

2. The entire Say Anything song "Admit It!". This man is angry. This man has a mental illness. This man was probably off his medication when he wrote this song. Hats off to you, Max Bemis. If the straight jacket fits, wear it. Such an angry song. It's like Alanis Morisette's "You Ought to Know"... if Alanis got all hopped up on testosterone, suffered from 'roid rage, and didn't even try to sing... just ranted into a microphone until the producer got pissed, ripped off his headphones, and went outside to smoke a cigarette. "How did I go from the Jonas Brothers album to this?", the producer says.

1. That one time I watched a kid crowd surf right off the edge of the pit and fall onto a metal railing at Warped Tour. Classic.



Today's Confession:
I watched "Dirty Dancing" almost daily until I was 6 years old. Parental screening of the children's media consumption? For hippies and liberals. Don't tell my 6 year old what he can and can't watch. This is America.

I Dig:
The fact that Obama ate a hot dog and went bowling in Altoona. Wow. I half expected him to unzip his pants after a large breakfast and drink some Natty Ice before driving the kids to school in the morning. "Look at me! I can relate to the middle class!", Obama says.

... dangit Barack. I wish I could quit you.

Hip Hop Gangster Shout Out To:
Matt Ford. You're from Texas. You're a fireman. You cook a mean flank steak. You're the man my dad wishes I could be.