Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Andy Williams was right...

It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. The snow has finally fallen, the semester is almost over, my skis have been waxed, and most importantly, the 2nd Annual Jazzy Dojo Sweater Charity Benefit Party is just right around the corner.

I am tickled a light shade of red -almost pink- to announce that the long-awaited sweater party will be held in the beloved Dojo (my house) on December 15. Stay tuned, cause I will post this year's official invite that was created by our in-house Creative Team (Adam Hook). It is sure to be an instant collector's piece.

For those of you that did not attend last year, allow me to paint a picture in your cerebral cortex (located near the lymbic system), of last year's soiree, so that you have an inkling of what to expect this year:


Crackling fire.

Man's desire.

Cozy sweaters,
Gifts galore.

Candied nuts,
Egg nog? Yes please, more.

Vintage tree,
twinkling lights.

Gleeful faces,
Magical night.

If you are reading this entry, you know you are invited. Please come by the Dojo and share a classy evening with family and friends on the 15th. Don't forget to wear your favorite school teacher holiday sweater, and bring a toy or blanket for donation to a local charity for foster children. Until then, enjoy this artist's depiction of last year's event. Stay jolly.

Thursday, November 15, 2007


I am nasally fixated. People (girls) think its weird when I want to smell them after they walk by and I catch a big nasal cavity-full of their sex appeal. Come on, there's nothing creepy or stalkerish about that. You're watching too many movies. But you have to admit, nothing can put the exclamation point on a memory like a distinct smell.

Tonight in my marketing class, I brainstormed a list of scents that set me off like Monty Jack (Rescue Rangers) after smelling some cheese. " 'Ey Zippah! Is that CHEE-YEE-YEESE?"

See if you have any in common.
  • WD-40
  • Sea Breeze astringent
  • cotton candy
  • brand new sneakers
  • nail polish
  • Mile High Stadium
  • Novelty smoke in concerts/stage shows
  • a freshly opened Red Bull
  • puppy breath
  • Old Spice High Endurance deodorant
  • wet sidewalk
  • the Wonderbread Store
  • peachy peach scented pine tree air fresheners
  • cedar chips in parking lot dividers
  • Sharpie markers
  • the inside of acoustic guitars
  • Windex
  • Koosh balls
  • brand new books from your Scholastic book order in elementary school
  • wet wood
  • Nag Champa incense
  • hot ski wax
  • bacon cheese burgers
  • a freshly painted room (latex)
  • the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland
  • fireworks
  • pipe tobacco
  • leather seats in a car
  • jack-o-lanterns with candles in them
  • girls' hair
  • garlic bread in the oven
  • asados
  • brand new electronic appliances (TV's, computers, speakers)
  • Adam's mom's cookies
  • chamomile flowers in San Martin de los Andes in the spring
  • Oktoberfest at Snowbird
  • a BBQ in the evening during summer
  • Dairy Queen blizzards
  • freshly mowed lawn
  • panaderias in the morning
  • palo santo wood
  • new can of tennis balls
  • Mr. Sketch markers, even the black ones
  • clean carpet
  • pine sap
  • roasted marshmallows
  • aspens after rain/snow in the fall
  • coffee early on Christmas morning
  • motorcycle exhaust
  • yerba mate

Friday, October 19, 2007

McCormick Confessional

You know what's a good time? Tell your mom all of the dangerous and ridiculous things you did growing up. She can't do a thing to you, other than just brow beat you a little. Try it; you'll get some laughs. Well, I'm about unload a doozie here in this post. I will now tell you about one of the stupidest things I have ever done.

One snowy evening long ago, I found myself hanging out at Marny Ray, and Arlon's apartment (I have changed their names as to protect their anonymity). Arlon was entertaining a lady friend so he was busy and not paying much attention to Marny Ray and I. Our casual chit-chat eventually turned into a conversation that would shape that night's events:

Marny Ray: "Hey dude, did you know that if you eat nutmeg it makes you really high?"
Kristjan: "No way man, thats preposterous. How could a common household spice get you high?"
MR: "I swear dude, my friend Jordan did and he swears it makes you high. He never lies."
K: "Uhh...."
MR: "Uhh...."
K: "Uhhh..."
MR & K together: "LET'S DO IT!"

So we decided to take the Pepsi Challenge, as it were. We booked it down to Smith's to pick up the finest, dankest, highest grade nutmeg that money could buy. We got the good stuff that comes in a glass jar instead of a plastic one. I think it was like "McCormick Selects" and it cost $3.73.

With the goods gripped tightly in my hand, we headed back to the apartment to tweak out. We supposed that the recommended dosage was about 2 tablespoons per person... so we took 4 tablespoons a piece just to be sure. Come to find out, swallowing dry nutmeg powder is A.) repugnant B.) really hard. A few ounces of Arlon's OJ in the fridge made the spicy smack easy enough to choke down.

With an 8 ball of spice in the stomach, it was time to wait for the swirling colors and talking pillow cushions to appear. About 3 hours had passed after we had hung out and watched Kill Bill 2, and still not even a buzz... just a deplorable aftertaste. Marmy Ray and I unanimously voted "Myth Busted" on nutmeg and we called it a night.

Folks, what happened in those wee hours of the morning between when I went to bed and when I woke for the 8 A.M. potty break, was unprecedented. I got out of bed and stumbled, no, crawled on my hands and knees into the bathroom. I couldn't believe what I saw when I looked into the mirror... big black pupils, and eye lids that were stuck at half mast. Realization finally hit me that I was "faded", using the parlence of our times. I staggered back into bed and turned on my cell phone...I had to tell somebody about this. I had to call Marny Ray.

He beat me to it. When my phone booted up, I had 3 messages from the guy. The first one was something like : "Du hahah duu hahahhaha duude Kristjan... duude. duuuude, I am so hi hahahhahahah hi hahhah hahah hiiiigh!!!" The other two messages were variations of the same thing. Contrary to Marny Ray's giggle fits, I was not feeling that handsome. Rather, I felt like I had been wrapped up in my blanket, and thrown down the stairs, then beaten with a garden hose.

This was my first run in with substance abuse, so I didn't know how to deal. The only thing that seemed logical was to call every person in my cell phone and tell them how high I was. Some of you may remember that call... priceless. After I called everyone that I knew, the only other activity that seemed appealing was feasting on mass quantities of junk food. Oh yeah, and drinking lots of water to get rid of the cotton mouth feeling.

Anyways, that lasted until about noon of the next day. Miserable. So, thats my story. I ate nutmeg and got really high. It sucked. Sorry Mom.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

"In my country..."

Just a thought I had today as I was lunching:

My attire today consists of Reebok shoes (British in origin, but made in China), and an Adidas track jacket (German brand, but also made in China) emblazoned with a soccer team's logo (from Argentina). I drove my Subaru Legacy (Japanese) to school where I talked to my buddy (from Denmark) and read a certificate of credit (from Spain) in my marketing class. Then, I stopped by Dask's for a gyro plate (Greek, but prepared by Mexicans) on the way to work. The soundtrack to my commute consisted of samba (Brazilian) and reggae (Jamaican).

Tonight, I will go home and fix up a cup of mate (from Paraguay) and work on some homework. Maybe I will get a second to play some blues (American) on my Fender Stratocaster (American, but built in Mexico).

Good grief, I feel like a United Nations meeting today.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

The Dark Side of the Powell

I am sitting here at the Dojo, sipping on a toasty mug of Mate Chocolatte, and ruminating about my weekend. I have kinda made it a point to not use my blog as a travel journal, but to use it for an outlet for sharing whats on my mind.

That being said, I just returned from a great little weekend jaunt down to Lake Powell with my friends and family. Those of you that have been there know that most any trip to Powell is an insta-classic. The scenery, the recreation, the good times with your people are always way above-par and each trip has its special moments. Let me recount one such moment.

Last night, as people were bedding down in the houseboat, I climbed myself and a sleeping bag up onto the top deck of the boat, and stretched out for few minutes of stargazing by my lonesome. Again, those of you that have ever been to Powell on a moonless night, you know that the amount of celestial eye candy above is literally entrancing. So as I was staring up at the perfectly chaotic visual mess (best way to describe what it looked like) that is our galaxy, I noticed some echoes from up the canyon that we were in. Since the night was pitch black completely still, I strained my ears to figure out what the sounds were. Buried beneath of the deep echoes being caused by the high sandstone walls, I heard: "Breathe, breathe in the air. Don't be afraid to care. Leave, but don't leave me. Look around, choose your own ground..." a.k.a, the opening lyrics to Pink Floyd's mind-blowing record, Dark Side of the Moon.

WOW. That's all I could think. I could not have handpicked a better soundtrack to accompany the incredible scenery I was taking in. The right music at the right time can really enhance a great experience like this one. My thanks to the earthy fellas camped out up the canyon from us for providing the perfect musical score for that perfect visual moment.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Things that MUST go

A radio station here in Salt Lake occasionally features a spot on their morning show called "List of Things that Must Go". The DJ's basically take turns commenting on things that 'must go' and give their reasons why. Here is my list:

Overly-large turbo diesel trucks: How ignorant can you possibly be??? I am talking about the F-350 types that are lifted 10 inches, have a giant novelty scrotum hanging from the chrome trailer hitch, and belch a thick cloud of black death when the driver steps the gas. Is it just me, or are the drivers of these ridiculous trucks compensating for anything that might be on the small side? I think so. Also, I am not sure if there really is a hole in the ozone, but if so, it was caused single-handedly by these things. Thanks.

Famous Stars and Straps: the official clothing sponsor of highschool dropouts nation wide.

Fast and Furious cars: your '92 Honda Civic still only has 47 horsepower even if it is painted lime green and has a vinyl ground effect kit (that is falling off in a few places). That coffee can of a muffler isn't going to help you win the pink slips to other cars, Dogg.

Metrosexual cowboys: The kind that wear fashionably bleached and tattered jeans. A tight 'vintage' tee and a crumpled cowboy hat to top off the ensemble. They can't decide if they are sheik-chillin, or sh!t-kickin. "Hey Randy, you got that new Rascal Flatts CD in yer truck? No? You got that new 50 Cent?"

Lip Piercings: Please bless this fad goes the way of the male nipple piercing, or the eyebrow piercing.

Meatheads: Dudes that go to the gym 7 days a week, and their diet consists of whey protein shakes, creatine tablets, raw tuna fish, chicken breasts, and gallons of water. They have abnormally large traps, biceps, and lats, but their legs and lower body resemble those of Gonzo. Meatheads can be seen with any number of silver hoops in their ears, puka shell necklaces, sleeveless t shirts and may be adorned with a barbed wire tattoo around the bicep. Note the hairless limbs and the ever-present ruva bed tan.
Stand Alone Goatees: Hey Todd, 1996 called, and the singers from Metallica and Godsmack want their facial hair back. Also, they said that collecting Spawn figurines is a waste of money. Medival swords too.
Smoking: Will someone please explain to me how people still get started smoking cigarettes? I fail to see how this is appealing. "Hey bro you gotta light? *spark, spark, inhale, exhale* Ahhhhhhhh, welcome to Flavor Country!"
The Insane Clown Possee: 3 rappers with stand-alone goatees that smoke, have lip piercings, wear Famous Stars and Straps and probably drive huge trucks... and they paint their faces as if they were a possee of insanse clowns. They have their own group of hardcore fans that are called Juggalos, who paint their faces in like fasion. I guess they are considered an actual gang by city police forces? Bahahahhaha.
And those, my friends, are some things that MUST go.

Hippy Treats

Let me share a couple of my recent hippy treat finds from Wild Oats.

So I guess the hip new thing among hippy health dweebs is yerba mate. The joke is on you chaco-wearing, messenger bag-toting peeps though.... Mate isn't "hip" or "new" to South Americans. Its a staple food and an ancient tradition among Argentines, Uruguayans, and Brazilians. Its like, the simplest form of customary drink around in those parts.

Anyhoo, even if it is as common as dirt in South America, I am happy that a few venture capitalist gringos who like to camp have figured out a way to make mate taste better, and make it available to people like me who live in Utah. Guayaki Mate Chocolatte is a nice blend of the traditional yerba with some cacao, and it comes in a teabag for easy use. With a squirt of honey, this stuff is bangin.

I couldn't find a picture of the other treat I found, so you will just have to look around at your local Wild Oats to find it, if you are intrigued. As I was paying for my mate, I got suckered into an impulse buy when I was looking at the other new hippy craze: dark chocolate. I found one that was a blend of curry, coconut, and dark chocolate. Let me tell you, that it was TASTY, but kinda weird. Just picture your favorite indian dish, in dessert bar form.

In an unrelated topic, let me take a few lines of this post and fill you in on the results of that juice fast/saline flush that i did for 10 days.

-It was gnarly
-I lost 13 pounds
-I have put on 3 pounds since the end of the fast
-I have no desire to eat fruit, or drink its juice
-I don't really have a desire to eat meat, either. Especially the red kind.
-After I did the saline flush (drinking 24 oz of salt water), i felt FANTASTIC. Well, not right after, but the next day I felt fantastic.
-I feel like eating healthier (well, just less soda, fried stuff, and stuff with lots of sugar)
-I know why half of America is fat though... fast food tastes really good, and you can always get it.

It was an interesting experience. One that I will likely repeat in about 6 months or so.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Finally, a reason to live again

At last. The 2007-2008 Football Season (yes, in caps) is upon us. I have written a sonnet to express my gratitude:

Let many thanks be given,
For this sacred time of year.
Let the screams of triumph,
Ring out loud and clear.

Don't hold back the curse words,
When your team is distraught.
Don’t forget to celebrate
Lest their efforts be forgot(ten).

So grab some hot wings,
And call your bro's.
Its Monday night,
Forget your woes.

The task at hand,
Is 1st and 10.
Be they angels?
Nay... they are but men.

Wishing you and yours a happy and victorious year. Make this season the best of your lives.


How to Feng Shui your insides

In an attempt to be more zen-like and to harness my Chi, I have embarked down the long, bumpy, and hungry road of a juice fast. A few buddies of mine did it recently, and have since talked up the juice fast like it was the cat's a$$. I have always been a little skeptical of these crazy health practices, but these guys are living proof that this juice fast really helps you lose weight, detoxify your body, and reset your metabolism. I decided it was time to make a change and try something really challenging. I prefer most of my fruit in juice form anyways, so I figured it wouldn't be too bad.
You know that guy who is like, 134 years old, and looks like a senior citizen-version of Lance Armstrong? You always see him in those super positive infomercials where he is selling the Ultimate Juice Master Machine. I am talking about the God Father of Fitness, Jack La Lanne. Well I bought one of Jack's magic inventions, and I have been juicing for 2.5 days now. Here are my impressions so far:
  • I am hungry
  • I wish I was on a cheeseburger, fries, and coke-fast
  • I am lethargic
  • 4 celery stalks do NOT taste good when juiced with peaches and strawberries.
  • I keep falling asleep
  • Is this really good for you?

I have been reading articles on this website, http://www.healthrecipes.com/, and they give me some hope. According what I have read, my body has been infiltrated by a whole bunch of gnarly toxins that come from years of consuming Pringles, frozen pizza, and Mtn. Dew. As the fast goes on, your body's lymphocytes attack all of the gnar, and burn it up as fuel. This process results in physical discomfort and weakness, and is dubbed a "cleansing crisis". Well, I am right on track then.

So, I know this post isn't as witty and entertaining as some others, but my humor is being eaten from the inside currently. Anyhoo, I am fiending a huge plate of cheese ravioli, with a quesadilla on the side, but I am gonna tough this one out and prove to myself that 'mind over matter' really is a trait of a Jedi Knight.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

The Search for Inspirado

Alright, enough screwing around. After 13 years of playing the guitar, thousands of dollars invested in equipment, and *several* thousand hours plunking around on La Nina, La Pinta, and the Santa Maria (shown here at the right)...what do I have to show for it? Not a freaking thing, is the answer. Not one single tune of my own.

Every time I pick up one of the Three Amigos, I end up playing the same blues riff, the same reggae rhythm, or the same cheesey power ballad. But not anymore folks. The time has come to harness my inner Grammy-machine and put my cunning and creativity to work. I'll never be a Mayer, a Marley, or a Prince, but dammit I know there is at least one decent song floating around in my head somewhere. I just need a little help coaxing it out.

Maybe my inability to write a song comes from my lack of inspiration. A wise craftsman of tunes was asked about this very subject: "Where do songs come from? Inspirado. I mean, I could 23-skidoo you a song, I could zippity-doo-dah YOU, a song. But that would be false, it would be wrong. I mean, you can’t 'manufacture' inspirado. It rises from a stillness of quietude. When your heart mingles with your soul and… oh man they do the dance…"

Fair enough, but of the 5,000+ songs on my ipod, most of them are about love, oppression, politics, racism, or money/fame. So why don't I just write one about any of the aforementioned topics? Let's see:
  • Love- seeing as how that has never worked out for me, there aint much to say
  • Oppression- two words: caucasian, Salt Lake City
  • Politics- don't know enough to care, don't care enough to know
  • Racism- most of Utah monotone. besides, I don't have any racist issues
  • Money/Fame- don't have much of the former, and none of the latter.

So unless anybody else has any bright ideas, I am at a stalemate. Any suggestions are welcome. Until then, I am gonna rock nonstop til something materializes. You never know, maybe I will end up recording my epiphany onto the next EFY album. I can only aspire to such an accomplishment. Inspirado.

Friday, August 10, 2007


Do you remember the first time you saw Jurassic Park? Or if you are from an older generation, the first time you saw Alien? If you were anything like me, you were gripping onto the arm rests of the movie theater chair, white knuckle steeze, fighting the urge to piss your pants, and your eyes were as wide as you could possibly jam them open. Not many flicks have had that effect on me, but I saw one last night that had me fit-to-be-tied, as they say.

Sunshine is hands-down the raddest movie I have seen all year. It kind of snuck in this summer and opened quietly, in the shadow of would-be summer blockbusters like Transformers and Harry Potter 11 (or whatever number it was). Well, the joke is on those two films, as they blow in comparison to this masterpiece.

Ok, before I hype it up too much and ruin it, let me give you a *brief* idea of what you will behold when you see it. A crew of astronauts is on the way to the sun to give it a little jumpstart, and all hell breaks loose. Thats it. Thats all I'm telling.

Sunshine isn't playing in too many theaters (it's only at Trolley Square in SLC), but if you can find it, check it out. If nothing else, you will like the dope soundtrack and an insane visual display, that will mostly likely give you heart palpitations.

I will issue a solemn warning though... do not go see this movie unless you want your a$$es blown out. Still not sold? Peep the trailer here.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Freedom of the road

Have you ever smelled the road? Have you ever felt it? I'm not talking about getting down on your hands and knees and taking a big whiff of the asphalt and then petting it like a kitten. I'm talking riding a motorcycle.

Its pretty incredible. In fact its one of my three most favorite things to do. There is nothing like hanging onto 800 pounds of steel, gas, and rubber, and letting the 1800 cc's of raw power shove you along the road effortlessly. The rumble of the V-twin+ the smell of the outdoors mixed with your exhaust+ the deafening sound of the wind beating on your ear drums+ the vibration from the piston strokes= chills up my spine/complete serenity.

You see, riding in car is a mostly uninvolved, mundane daily activity. You see whats in front of you, you hear the radio, you smell your air freshener or the leather seats, and you feel the artificial A/C blowing you in the face. Thats about it. Lame.

When I'm on the bike, there's no such thing as a blind spot. I see everything to the left, to the right, above, and below me. I smell the diesel exhaust from the truck in front of me, the smell of the freshly cut grass to the left, the cool scent of the creek to the right, and the freshly bloomed chamomile flowers up ahead. I feel the temperature change from warm to cool as I cross over the river, the heat coming off the car next to me, and the mist from the sprinklers on at the park. Awesome.

Its a 360-experience. You feel it. You remember what its like 3 days after a ride. You want to do it every day that the sun is out and the temperature is above freezing. Don't be surprised if one day you guys see me with a gnarly beard, a huge gut, a pony tail, and a plethora of black t- shirts with skulls on them. You will know what I have decided to do with my life.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

So, there are two types of people in this world:

1.) Those who understand and embrace Prince
2.) Those who don’t.

In a recent discussion at the Dojo (the house I live in), we came to the above conclusion after some serious thought. The simple fact is, Prince is a musical genius and piece of American History.

So what if he dresses like a bullfighter or a figure skater on stage? So what if he changed his name to a symbol without pronunciation for a while? So what if he is only like, 5’5” and casually wears high heels like I wear sneakers?

I’m not gonna deny it… the guy is weird. But so are most musical virtuosos. Just a few things that are on his list of radness: he put Minneapolis on the map, has a color dedicated to him, SHREDS on a guitar, plays several other instruments proficiently, worked with Miles Davis (who actually was one of Prince’s biggest fans), sings just as well falsetto as he does baritone, and put on the best Superbowl half time show ever (yes, even better than Michael Jackson’s.)

Anybody who can seamlessly blend velour, lace, high heels, women, purple, motorcycles, jerry curls, and face-melting guitar solos to paint a masterpiece, is more than OK in my book. I wouldn’t exactly call Prince a man’s man, but you better believe he is more hetero than a hairy lumberjack, a truck mechanic, and a middle line backer combined.

So today, the background color of my blog is dedicated to none other than Prince Rogers Nelson.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

The ultimate survey

Hi, thanks for dropping by to check out my new e-diary. To break this baby in...

You know those mostly-ridiculous surveys that your friends always send you while you are at work? The kind that really don't give you any insight as to what your friend is actually like? The kind that were mostly likely written by a 14 year old girl, trying to find out if a certain boy liked her? Well, here's my self-administered rendition of one of those surveys. Hopefully you will learn something new about me:

  • What is your name? Kristjan Michael Morgan
  • Where is your first name from? Norway
  • Where does your middle name originate? The King of Pop. Even Michael Jackson.
  • Where were you supposed to be born? Southern California
  • On a scale of 1 to 10, how rad do you honestly believe you are? 8.8
  • Favorite color? Hurricane Blue.. like the color of my eyes. Seriously, they have their own pan tone.
  • Dream job? Musician. What in the world could be better than playing music, changing lives, setting the mood for a makeout session, making a whole crowd of people move their bodies, inspiring the masses, traveling, and make grips of cash at the same time?
  • If you were black, what hairstyle would you sport? Long ropey dreadlocks.
  • What is your dream pet? A bat.
  • What do you do in your spare time? Create music, ride my motorcycle.
  • Who would you like to have lunch with? Bob Marley, Bear Grylls, Liu Kang
  • Talent you wish you had? Singing. Also, urban ninjitsu (i think they call it Parkour)
  • Guilty Pleaures? John Mayer, Pixar movies, magic tricks, the Electric Boogie by Marcia Griffiths
  • Things you hate: Wow, 'hate' is such a strong word... really harsh... i hate finance classes, accounting classes, homework in general, staying up late to study, red lights, getting your pay check and noticing how much was taken out for taxes, hot wind, typos, when my fingernails are long, cold showers, waiting for phone calls, tracked-out ski resorts after a big storm, when people ride their brakes going down the canyon, indecision, things that aren't fun.
  • Things you love: Things that are fun, a recently washed car, fresh powder, a new pair of sneakers, new socks, finishing something that was really hard, the smell of clean air, a cool/dark room, clean sheets, feasting, when the turbo engages in my car, trying something really good for the first time, leaving a Mtn. Dew in the freezer until its kind of slushy, being in the right place at the right time, the sound of my bike when it starts up, laughing really hard at mostly inappropriate times, laying in a hammock, exceptional chips and salsa.
  • What would you rather be doing right this very second? Fastening on a BC, getting ready to jump into the ocean for a dive, swimming in a cool river, eating a chimichanga from the Red Iguana, or driving to somewhere really neat.
  • Biggest fear? Becoming a suit-sporting working stiff, being lame after i get married
  • Have you ever almost died? Yes, i almost choked to death on a chocolate donette on the way to a zoo when I was a boy.
  • Lifestyle you wish you had right now: Neo hippy traveller living off of whatever money i could scrape together, never wearing anything more formal than jeans and sneakers.