Bikes, friends, beer and tamales

Critical Mass last night was a blast. We went west, which is pretty rare for the Mass. Out past UIC and then north and by the United Center right as people were going in for the Blackhawks game, then north and west to Humboldt Park, then down to the Garfield Park Conservatory and back up through Humboldt, and then east down North through Wicker Park and Old Town to the beach. We did a good five-minute hold-up of the Damen/North intersection; a huge bike circle and bikes in the air, at least until the cops showed up and started circling the intersection with their sirens on...some girl Linda had cupcakes at North Ave. Beach, and I had about six of them.

I headed up to Danny's afterward, and hung out with him and Dani and Jenny, and Dani's friend Kathleen and Danny's sister Lisa. After they all left, Danny and I rode down to Club Foot where we met some of his friends, and I ran into these kids Frank and Michelle I met last summer, and got invited to Frank's birthday party next weekend, which I may be able to go to...some Mexican guy was selling hot tamales out of a portable cooler - it was just what I needed. Delicious.

Today I want to try and clean up - we'll see how successful that venture is.

The chain that fell off my bike last night is now wrapped around my heart.

I've been listening to Billy Bragg all day; since I woke up, pretty much. It's relaxing after listening to so much Alkaline Trio and Smoking Popes this last week, and several hours straight of loud ska last night. And Billy Bragg's music is so clean. I feel like its simplicity and elegance strips away a lot of the bullshit. Anyway, it's had the paradoxical effect of making me feel optimistic and melancholy.

Delilah's was a blast last night. A bunch of people showed, and I was able to talk to some of them a little bit. There was a gorgeous girl sitting right next to the DJ booth for most of the night, and we talked a bit, too, when her friends weren't around. Perhaps my melancholy is due to the letdown of seeing such a vision coupled with the realization that she had absolutely no eyes for me.

Or perhaps not.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a secondary character in people's lives. I told Laura once that I feel like I've had to rebuild my life a few times in the last few years. I'm still currently rebuilding, only this time, there's a much sturdier foundation and it should hopefully last much longer. I'm still amazed (and appreciative) when people I don't think consider me that close a friend make the effort friendship takes.

Dani showed up at 2am, right as I was walking out of Delilah's. I was able to give her the gift I had for her, and we went two blocks up Lincoln to the Golden Apple, where I had french toast and she had a vanilla milkshake, and we were able to sit and talk for a good while. Her brother's doing better, which was good to hear. We talked about life and relationships (or lack thereof) and it felt great to see her again. Like putting on an old comfortable pair of shoes, emotionally speaking.

I fixed some leg of lamb for lunch; it was delicious. I think my pudding is probably set now, for desert. In less than two hours I have to head out for tonight's Critical Mass entertainment. I may curl up for a little nap first, though.

Ska is the father of rocksteady, grandfather of reggae music

As soon as I'm done writing this, I've got to take off for Delilah's. I've got a mug of tea steeping at my side, which will join me in the car. I've a feeling I'll get there a bit early, but that's good since I'm sure I'll need to familiarize myself with the new setup.

I finished my bike maintenance, about 6 month's worth, give or take. It took fucking long enough, and I'll see how much more fun it is to ride tomorrow. Ah, well. That, combined with getting my shit together for tonight's DJ session, seemed to take most of the day. Well, I didn't get out of bed until noon. I dunno.

Yeah, I really don't have time to write anything really good, despite some things that have been percolating around in my head for a few days. Maybe tomorrow.

Pick it up!

I miss riding my bike.

Today I had planned to change the flat tire on my bike and then ride out and run errands. But...I was taking the tire off the rim, and saw that I'd shredded part of the tire as well as poke a gigantic hole into the tube. So I hustled everything back into my storage locker and drove out to run my errands (including buying new tires for the bicycle).

I ended up dropping two hundred bucks on bike stuff (including a jersey and somewhat reflective windbreaker, and maintenance armamentaria). I then went to the Rugby shop in Lincoln Park to return a sweater. That place made me want to puke. It's like Ralph Lauren is trying to capture the "wild youth" market. The logo is a skull and cross-bones on ratty preppy shit, way over-priced. It didn't help that the clerk looked like a certain fat hyperbeerhotic dickhead I intensely dislike, either. I just got a dress shirt, which is about all I could stand there.

After I got back, I started the bike maintenance. I put together the quickstand I bought, and started putting shit together:

1. I cut my hand with a screwdriver while prying open a plastic tab to adjust a light strap.
2. The hex heads on my rear fender were stripped out and I had to take out round-head bolts with a big wrench.
3. The holes on my rear fork for attaching the cargo platform I bought are too small for the screws! I have to get some longer bolts to wrap around the frame tomorrow.
4. The goddamn tires I bought are too fucking big!!!! I have to exchange them tomorrow.

The bike is still in pieces (somewhat) and still requires a good degreasing of the derailleur and chain as well. Tomorrow hopefully, I'll have time to finish it.

I met Paul and his friend Keith for dinner, which was pretty good, then headed up to SmartBar where Chuck Wren and the Mustard Plug guys were spinning. Chuck wasn't spinning much, though, and he walked out about the time I finished my beer. I walked out with him, and bought Vols. I & II of the Billy Bragg Box Sets off him at wholesale prices, too. Maybe I'll be able to listen to it this weekend...

Tomorrow I need to get all the music together for my Delilah's stint. I'm looking forward to that. Right now I really need to sleep, though.

"It's like West Side Story with Nazis."

I think I'm finally able to spend some time at home on my break, now. I haven't even had a chance to check my voicemail or e-mail today.

I met my family for lunch at Noon-O-Kabab, then gave Linda, Hossein and Natasha a tour of Chicago, including Lincoln Square, Lakeview, Lincoln Park, Wicker Park, the Medical District, and of course my place, before we headed up to Lincolnshire to see All Night Strut. The show was OK, nothing great. Maybe I just should've blown it off. I dunno.

I must've gotten a pinch flat last Friday when I was jaunting about town pretty hard, because my rear tire was flat today. At least this tube lasted two or three months. Tomorrow is bike maintenance day and then bike shopping day. And maybe also return-the-sweater-I-don't-like day. I need to also get some track listings together and start consolidating CDs for Delilah's on Thursday. I'd like to start back to school with shit in gear.

I was in Quimby's today with the relatives on our tour, and I wanted to buy so many books, but really, I need to read the shit on my shelf, first, before I buy any more. It was kind of enlightening to see the city with others with me; I definitely saw things differently. It's a sweet-ass city, that I can say.

You know, there were things I wanted to write, but can't remember now, despite all that shit I just put down. Or maybe I just have to go to the bathroom too badly to take the time.

Ain't nothing on the airwave in the despair we feel.

Driving home from my parents' tonight, I was listening to the radio (MP3 player battery was dead since it sat in the cold car all day), and sandwiched between Led Zeppelin and Tommy Tutone was some station motto about redefining new music or some shit like that. Riiiiight.....

Hopefully I'll get some good presents to keep my mind off things

From Salad Days:

"I'm rarely moved by people. Something about the women I tend to meet almost always turns me off. Something they wear, something they say, or the way they carry themselves. Everyone is so insecure and unmotivated. They collect dust, not accomplishments. I find people to be generally a let down. With women...something has to hit me. That punch just doesn't come all that often. I suppose I'll have a long and lonely life, waiting for someone to impress me."

I spent Christmas Eve cooped up with my (extended) family. I couldn't find anywhere to be alone. Some of it was good (the food, the drink) and some of it was annoying (letting my mom down when she asked me to go to church).

Tomorrow's more of the same, but with more people around. Hopefully I'll get some good presents to keep my mind off things.

Here's another pic from the Santa Rampage to keep your mind off things. You can see why we got kicked out of Binny's.


.....Merry Christmas.

It makes me laugh, smile, and feel happy and sad, and identify

Yesterday, Dr. Jackson brought a bunch of freshly made venison jerky from his hunting trip. It was some spicy shit; I just finished the last stick he gave me and my mouth is on fire, from my lips to my tongue. Good shit, even if it did make me cough and cry from time to time.

I'm reading Salad Days by Charles Romalotti. It's a great fucking novel, the kind I haven't read a lot of. Things that are just true. It's up there with American Skin and Hairstyles of the Damned as far as punk novels go. It's up there, really, with all of the good novels I've read, in that it makes me laugh, smile, and feel happy and sad, and identify.

I went to the London Calling show at Schuba's last night. It was pretty good. Not the Clash, though (not that I was expecting it to be). But I think tribute bands are best enjoyed with someone who can appreciate the tribute, and I went alone.

I really should wrap up these X-mas presents I have here, so I don't have to deal with it tomorrow or the next day when - ironically - family's in town and everything gets crazy hectic for the holiday.

Santa needs to keep warm at the North Pole

HOOORAY! It's Christmas Break! And for fuck's sake, this week I've been so tired I've had to nap almost every day, along with going to bed early and sleeping in. I can't wait to do it for ten days straight. Amazingly, I've got something to do just about every day of break:

-Sat 12/23: Go to my parents' house, do laundry and use sewing machine to fix pants and sew patches onto stuff.
-Sun 12/24: Pick my aunt Parvin and my grandmother up at Midway and go to my parents' to celebrate Parvin's birthday (and try to keep from going to church with my mom).
-Mon 12/25: X-mas! Presents! Fancy dinner!
-Tues 12/26: My mom got tix to All Night Strut for the family.
-Wed 12/27: Screw the Midwest Ska Fest, but I'll go hang out at SmartBar post-show for Chuck to spin.
-Thurs 12/28: I spin Delilah's monthly Ska Night. It actually looks like people will be turning out this time. (Fingers crossed)
-Fri 12/29: Chicago Critical Mass! The Return of the Santa Suit!
-Sat 12/30: (frown) just WNUR....
-Sun 12/31: Smoking Popes/Alkaline Trio at the Metro for New Year's Eve.
-Mon 1/1: Chicago Cycling Club Weather Be Damned Ride!
-Tues 1/2: Back to school....

Tonight I went down to Pilsen to meet up for the Circular Mass, but no one showed up. Oh, and I was wearing the Santa suit again. So I hung out at Tenochtitlan Plaze for 15 minutes waiting for people, then decided I might as well head up to Binny's and get some good beer for the Holiday. I plan to bring a few bottles of corked ale for dinner with the family. People get a good kick out of the Santa suit. I told the cashier at Binny's that Santa needs to keep warm at the North Pole. Next year I'm going to buy a beard, too.

I came home and downed a bottle of Young's Double Chocolate Stout while I browsed blogs. My internet connection is getting fucked up, and I'm getting hungry. I'm going to eat something and then think about heading up to Schubas for the Clash Tribute show (or at least the ride up there if it's sold out).

Yaawwwnnnnn......

I finally went grocery shopping. I spent less than $100, too, including alcohol. My goal is to get my groceries by bike from now on, so since I did this round of provisioning by car (not sure what I was going buy) I have a base to which I can add when it depletes. I plan to buy a rear rack and strap a milk crate on, and then with my messenger bag I should be able to cram a ton of stuff in. Even more if I get panniers. I don't think I'm at the trailer stage yet. Hah!

I bought wrapping paper too. I almost bought the Hannukah paper, just because.

Last night Dana and hung out late, first at Uncommon Ground, then Delilah's. She's told me I should grow my hair and beard out. I said no. Overall, though, a really fun night, though I got home at 1:30 and was beat today, despite not having to crawl out of bed until 8:45 this morning.

Tomorrow I plan to go on the Pilsen Circular Mass, probably in Santarific regalia, and then - if I'm not too shitted out - up to Schubas for the Clash tribute show (assuming it's not sold out).

If you scroll down to the picture of me in front of the karoake place, I think I'm yelling, "Gooooooooaaaaaaaalllllllllllll!!!!!" That, or singing, "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg...." I remember doing both that night.

Right now I'm feeling exhausted and I think I'll go to sleep soon.

Enough water to fill me up (and make me wet my bed?)

Dude, I'm fucking starving. I had a little leftover sandwich about five and a half hours ago. I think I have a bag of chips in my bag, and that'll be dinner along with enough water to fill me up (and make me wet my bed?). Maybe tomorrow Dana and I can find going to the grocery store exciting, but I don't think so. We'll have to find something cooler to do.

What the fuck is wrong with those guys?!

Joe and Miki sent me a picture/card of Renee. That kid is cute, man. Shit. Although I doubt the snow she's sitting on in her Phoenix backyard is real.

I got my grubby little mitts on some pictures from Saturday:

Getting the day started at the Twisted Spoke:

Here we are after being evicted from the parking lot of Binny's Beverage Depot. That's me in the front, looking the other way.

Then we headed over Navy Pier and started climbing on shit. I'm hanging from the chain. Check out Dreidle Dan!



After the Pier, we rode around for a bit before winding up at Daley Plaza. That's me with the apple beer upended.


From there we headed over to Carson's, and slogged up the escalator to see Santa. Sadly, I don't have any pics with that imposter.


After the UIC Ortho X-mas party, I gave Rasha a treat for being naughty.


And Louie gave me one:


Then I was ready for Karaoke, but the place wasn't open yet! I have no fucking clue what I was yelling right then, but Bernie sure thought it was funny.


You can also check out other pictures from the Santa Cycle Rampage.

If you don't let someone in close enough to do that shit, you live a very fucking lonely life

Go check out some Santa Rampage video. If you look closely, you can see me, but I doubt you'll recognize me.

I finished all my patient care by noon today. I was free! Well, I had to print out a copy of my thesis for Dr. Botto. (Domo arigato, Dr. Ron Botto) And of course, while doing so, I spent 20 minutes cleaning up syntax that happened to cross my sight. I also read an article by George Monbiot about exactly how fascist this country is becoming.

Anyway, by the time I finished screwing around and ran that up to Botto's office for his perusal and dropped it in his box, and finally got out of there, it was a quarter past two, and I'd had no lunch. I snagged some fried chicken and then rode eight miles around town buying Christmas gifts. Some people I just have no idea what to get and know my parents will cover it with a gift from all of us; at least while I'm still in school I can get away with that...once I start making money I really should be able to buy a little something for everyone that deserves it.

I spent probably an hour in Myopic again and bought a bunch of books, half of them for me. I really need to stop this habit, since I don't have time to read them and my bookshelf is filling up with books for me to read. I'm looking forward so to reading them, but what the fuck? At least now I have no excuse to go in there for a few months, yet.

After coming home and reading a bit and doing some audio shit on my computer, I headed out to the Mercury Cafe a few blocks from here. A real laid-back, mostly empty coffe shop that has about 7 shitloads of floor space. There were actually a fair number of people in there, but the place is so huge it feels empty. They've got art on the walls, and the people at the counter are real friendly, and they have vegan food too for those of you who are dietarily impaired. I sat and read a bit while eating, then just sat and starting compiling a list of music to play at Delilah's next week while listening to the MP3 player for inspiration.

My friend Marissa in Montreal wrote me a card which I got today. I haven't heard from her in six months, so that put a big smile on my face.

I had an IM conversation with Laura that I'm going to post part of. Screen names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Laura: if you've never gotten a letter like that from someone you were really close to, then take my word for it when I tell you that it really fucking hurts
Darren: yeah, I bet
Darren: Marta told me I was an "obligation"
Laura: when she broke up with you, or before then?
Laura: that's pretty dick
Darren: the night of
Darren: of course, she denied it five minutes later
Darren: a few weeks before that she told me I felt like a burden
Darren: I felt like I'd been punched in the chest
Laura: ouch, yeah
Darren: especially since that's how I'd felt my parents had perceived me for a long time
Laura: rahul told me I was "heartless," and incapable of giving a shit about anyone other than myself unless it was to get angry at them
Darren: Rasshole
Laura: I thought he was right for a long time
Darren: suckage
Laura: i consider myself a fairly self-confident person, but it is amazing what people can do to you anyway
Darren: no fucking shit, man
Darren: of course, if you don't let someone in close enough to do that shit, you live a very fucking lonely life

The absence of that tight-in-the-chest I'm-really-into-someone feeling

When I can't fall asleep easily at night, I play games with numbers in my head. At some point last winter, I calculated how long Marta and I had dated and then what date it would be for that amount of time to pass after the breakup. The date was December 15, 2006.

That was two days ago. And aside from two friends of mine that I hadn't talked to in a while asking how long it had been since we broke up, and talking with Dani about breakups and dating, I didn't really think about it much. I think I realized at the end of the day that a milestone (admittedly, a self-constructed one) had been passed.

Today I've been listening to the new Hold Steady record, and while I don't know what Marta thinks of this record, I remember she thought highly in her review of the previous record at WNUR. And to top it off, there are plenty of themes on this record that remind me strongly of her, or at least what I remember her to be. Some of the songs are pretty good, though. Still, it's been making me feel lonely and melancholy. It's fucked how far under my skin this girl got; even though it's officially been longer since we broke up than we were dating, I still haven't completely recovered.

Last night as I was driving to WNUR, I was thinking about how it felt to be comfortable with the absence of that tight-in-the-chest I'm-really-into-someone feeling. It's actually a bit upsetting to me to get a crush on someone these days, as it's usually nothing that has potential to go anywhere, for many possible reasons. Or worse, the tiny potential to go somewhere is grossly outweighed by the massive potential for explosive destruction.

Newt Gingrich is a fucking asshole.

Like I said, Newt Gingrich is a fucking asshole. A racist shithead. And any Republican that voices support for his presidential campaign goes on my shitlist, even if they were previously a friend.

Gingrich cited last month's ejection of six Muslim scholars from a plane in Minneapolis for suspicious behavior, which included reports they prayed before the flight and had sat in the same seats as the Sept. 11 hijackers.

"Those six people should have been arrested and prosecuted for pretending to be terrorists," Gingrich said. "And the crew of the U.S. airplane should have been invited to the White House and congratulated for being correct in the protection of citizens."

In case you didn't know, the "six people" he refers to are six imams who were travelling home from a conference on how to improve relations between Muslims and non-Muslims, and were removed from their flight on US Airways because of the flight crew was scared of them. It's funny how praying is "suspicious behavior" when it's done by Muslims, but the fucking religious right wants their prayer in school. Racist shitheads.

Also, even after the imams were cleared by the FBI and TSA, they still weren't allowed to fly US Airways. And the company's management defended the decision on the basis of their flight crews' need for autonomy.

So fuck you, Newt Gingrich, you racist shithead, and fuck you too, US Airways.

Santa wants a girl who can beat him up.

Today was fucking awesome!

Okay, the rest of the week was OK, but compared to today, it fucking pales in comparison. And today isn't even over yet! I get to go to WNUR and rock the shit out of the place.

Right now my face and mouth are numb. I just got back from karaoke in Chinatown...and karaoke is fucking awesome. I guess it helps if you have a beer or ten in you, but it was the first time I did it, ever, and if you can find a song you know the rhythm to pretty well, it's a ton of fun. Of course, all the other ortho people I was with chicken-shitted out and left, most without singing anything.

I'm sure it helped that I was wearing a Santa suit, but I did something like five songs after they left, and at the end the Chinese people in the bar were all applauding. I think that's good, either for my singing voice or my gigantic balls. And judging from the fact that I was hoarse from shouting at people all day, it must have been the cojones. (Although, truth be told, it's easier to fuck up in front of strangers than people you see every day)

All told, karaoke is fucking awesome. If anyone wants to go with me anytime, just throw it down and I'm there.

I hit the Broken Spoke at noon for the Santa Cycle Rampage. And what a Rampage it was. Santa had a nice breakfast of fried egg sandwich and bloody mary (with beer chaser) before taking a leak and heading out to the street with his Santa compatriots. Another Santa had a minikeg on his bike trailer, and this Santa filled his bike bottle from it.

Santas then headed down Grand to Binny's. After heading in for Santa provisions, which for this Santa included Young's Old Nick barley wine and some apple lambic as well as a bottle of Duchesse de Bourgogne, Santas hung out in the parking lot and played bicycle games and sang along to songs like the Chipmunks' "What I Want for Christmas" and Dead Kennedys' "Holiday in Cambodia" until the Binny's grinch/manager kicked the Santas out.

Santas then headed down to Navy Pier, wishing all a Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, or Happy Kwanzaa (although there weren't really any African people visible). At the pier, Santas rode to the end, and that's where this Santa really had to relieve his bladder, so he took another leak off the end of the pier. Right after he started, a tour boat started going by. Many Santas were waving, but this one was waving a little differently as he finished his micturatory adventure.

Santas also met some Navy girls, who coincidentally were visiting Navy Pier. Santa remarked that Navy girls are hot in Navy uniforms. Santa also remarked that girls in uniforms are hot, and that Santa wants a girl who can beat him up.

Santas rode around the Magnificent Mile, and even though Santas were wishing the Chicago PD a Merry Christmas, they still stopped two Santas and gave them tickets for having open containers. Santas feel containers should be open so the joy within can be utilized and shared.

Santas also climbed the "moose" statue at Tribune Plaza (Santa prefers to think of it as a reindeer statue) and Santa had to jump down when the cops showed up. Cops don't seem to like Christmas, Channukah, or Kwanzaa. Santas also visited Daley Plaza and the porto-potties there, and Santa consumed plenty of apple lambic there. After talking with some bad-ass skater kids about how bad-ass Santa is, Santas rode over to Carson's and travelled the magic stairs up to the top floor for a picture with the store Santa.

On the way down Santa stopped with a few other Santas to hump a few Christmas trees (and a Santa humped this Santa on a store bed too). At that point Santa had to leave his compatriots to head to Chinatown.

............................

I know I haven't posted much this last week, but really, it sucked, what with studying too much for easy tests and missing Jeremy Enigk's show at Double Door Wednesday night.

I did get to meet up with Dani though, and we talked for over three hours the other night, over food and beers. It was so good to see her; I don't even realize how much I miss her until I see her. So I guess Thursday night was pretty fucking awesome too.

Spurred Recollections

When I was too young to drive, and living in outer suburbia - and going to a private school with a wide drawing area, no less - I also distrusted my parents too much to let them have any access to my emotional state if avoidable.

In other words, I was too embarassed and afraid to admit that I would need them to really drive me anywhere to socialize, and my social life felt pretty constricted for the first two years of high school.

I could never have asked for money for a dance, let alone a ride to a girl's house. Never mind that my mom still pries all the time, but back then she had never been told that she's not entitled to run other people's lives.

Zzzzzzzeeeeeeeeooooooooooommmmmm!!!!!!!!!

I've been too involved in other shit the last few days to post...and I don't really have the time to do anything great tonight.

Quick recap: Hung out with Laura Saturday, with plenty of drama. Rode up to the winter bike clinic at Performance in Lincoln Park on Sunday, then dinner and studying at Iguana Cafe on Sunday. Yesterday I just was exhausted, but had to study for my craniofacial anomalies exam this morning. So I was up way early today, nailed my exam (I think) and then finally got a chance to nap this afternoon, before instituting my studies for Thursday's exams.

I think I'm going to cut my hair and shower now before crashing once again.

She didn't seem like such a poser, though.

At the Slackers show on Sunday, while I was working Chuck's table and talking with Trish, I saw the girl I met at the Deal's Gone Bad show several weeks ago across the room, alone. While I really had no intention of ever dating this girl, I really never called her since I just got busy and forgot. Now I feel like a dick for not calling. I was kind of relieved that working Chuck's table was a decent excuse to not walk to the other side of the room and talk with her.

There was also a girl there who looked uncannily like Marta, only taller and without glasses. But same retrognathic appearance, even. Like I said, uncanny. She didn't seem like such a poser, though. Of course, I never talked to her, so who knows? I fell for Marta's crap, so who am I to judge?

I've been so fucking exhausted this week. Only one patient tomorrow, and a presentation at lunch, then to do something...educational? I don't know.

We were making the kind of plans that didn't mean anything

Right now I'm listening to Rainer Maria, "CT Catholic."

It was the hottest summer ever and the traffic was a monster. You were sitting right beside me with your hand in my hand and we were making the kind of plans that didn't mean anything.

Those lyrics first impinged on my consciousness three and a half years ago, when in a fit of despair over a certain relationship with a certain girl I drove up to Wisconsin and then back to Oak Park on surface streets in the middle of the night, until I was too tired to cry any more.

On a totally unrelated note, the last few days I've been hibernating, effectively, just sitting in and overdosing on the West Wing DVDs I borrowed from John. Just a few episodes left...of the 4th season.

I also made it out to the Slackers show on Sunday night; Chuck needed someone to sell CDs while he was spinning, so he hooked me up with a bunch of CDs in exchange for working his table for him. I would've done it for free, but I won't turn down the free music. The Slackers were great - it's been years since I've heard them play "Run Away" or "Wasted Days." Liv even came down from Madison even though she had class the next day. So did Les, Ryan and Trish too.

Yesterday, after putting in some revisions on my thesis, I spent an hour in Myopic browsing for books. Many things did catch my eye. Hmmm...

Tonight I hope to bang out most of my presentation for Friday. Blech.

All we've gotten so far was a rain of little fucking ice pellets that sting when they hit you

Dana asked me out to the Hideout tonight to see her friend's band play, which was OK. Put it this way: I want to listen to Piebald's 4th record again. Plus I got a beer out of it, even if it was FreeBR.

After that, I rode up to Delilah's for ska night, and I ended up talking with Chuck for almost two hours. I was so hungry then, that I went around the corner to 3 Panchos and got myself a burrito before riding home.

We were supposed to have a ton of snow tonight. All we've gotten so far was a rain of little fucking ice pellets that sting when they hit you, and accumulate into slush rather than snow. Fuck that. It's sometimes annoying to bike through - probably since my shoes and socks got soaked - but it was fun nonetheless.

I got home after 1am. and now I'm just starting to get sleepy.

I'm spinning ska night at Delilah's Christmas week. Come out and keep me company; I'll play some songs for you.

Happy in that everything-in-the-world-is-fucking-awesome kind of way

I rode up to the Hacienda today. Dropped over $25 on a margarita and Mexican food, and some good conversation, some good laughs. Got a little chilly on bits of the ride, but it was only two miles from here and I warmed up pretty quick. I thankfully managed to avoid riding at any of the really rainy times and didn't really get wet.

It's supposed to snow either tomorrow or Friday - I can't wait to ride out in it. It's like floating on clouds. Fucking awesome. Assuming any of it sticks, that is.

I was getting smarmy with a friend of mine earlier - probably too smarmy - and I then told her that I want her to be more than content; I want her to be happy in that everything-in-the-world-is-fucking-awesome kind of way.

I just thought it was a good line.

Damn straight, I'm emo!

I just posted the following as a comment on Nakakagulo, which you should go read right now. Not only is it a story that will draw you in, but it will give some context to what's below, although it does stand on its own:

When I was 16, my friend Jeff introduced me to the two girls who lived on either side of his house after school one day. He told me the next day that they thought I was cute and invited me to hang out with them that weekend.

I went over, and we all hung out for a while (and some other people, too). We ended up heading over to the house next door where this girl Laura lived. Eventually everyone left but us, and she lit her fireplace. We were sitting there, and then we turned to each other, and this sight I remember clearly:

She closed her eyes, and leaned towards me, her mouth slightly open. It seemed I instinctively knew what to do, even though I'd never kissed a girl.

It was wonderful.

Before I left her house that night, she did tell me one thing: her friend Erica (Jeff's other neighbor) was the one who really seemed to like me and the one I was supposed to end up with. The funny thing is, when I first met Laura and Erica, Erica is the one I thought more attractive.

That night, though, Laura and I clicked, and I felt a little guilty when I found out the situation with Erica.

When I was 19, I met a girl named Anne. Anne had a boyfriend who was going to school about 3 hours from where we lived.

From the night we met, we talked and talked. And talked. It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous, and cute, and liked the same kind of punk rock and ska music that I did.

We would sit up on my bed all night and just share our hearts. A little cuddling went on, too.

One night, we were laying side-by-side on my twin dorm room bed, and she propped herself up on her elbow and leaned over, putting her lips on mine.

I laid there like stone. After a minute she moved away. I said I wanted to kiss her. Badly. But it wouldn't be fair to her boyfriend. I told her to make sure it was what she wanted.

The next day I remember walking around town with my heart about to crack through my sternum and drag me home to call her. When I finally did talk to her later that night, she told me she wanted to stay with her boyfriend. As much as that kind of sucked for me, I agreed with her decision.

A month or two later, she pretty quickly and deftly distanced herself from me, without giving me warning or reason.

I didn't really understand until three years later, when a good (female) friend of mine told me she thought my girlfriend was jealous of our friendship and that we should distance ourselves. I was hurt some by this, but agreed.

It was two years after that when I found out that, at the time, my friend had been secretly wanting me to break up with that girl to date her instead.

I am fucking tired.

It was 60 degrees out again today, and I had a 7am lecture. For our 8:30 seminar, we ended up watching half of The Smartest Guys In the Room, a documentary about the Enron collapse. Interesting. Isaac started telling me that trickle-down economics works. Um, no. Econ 101: those with less "disposable" income are more likely to spend what they got rather than invest it. Expenditures drive economic growth and job creation, not investments. Yes, investments and expenditures are both necessary, and yes, increasing investment will potentially result in growth, but it's not as robust or cost-effective as increasing spending. There is the little worry of inflation, though, as well.

Anyway, I was tired out after my day, and the temperature is supposed to drop 30 degrees tomorrow, so I went out and rode 15 miles in shorts and a t-shirt. I stopped for dinner at the Fireside Lounge up in Andersonville; it was pretty good.

I had a headwind all the way back, and I just got out of the shower and I'm sitting here in my bathrobe typing this.

How are there so many beautiful girls everywhere that are either dating someone or (probably) too young or smoke (or have nothing in common with me)?

Like I said, I am fucking tired.

"...And he wasn't wearing any pants."

Today has been a decent day so far. As usual, I was tired on a Monday and didn't get much work done outside of direct patient care. There was a fire drill at 3:30 so I left early. Any work I do will be done on the laptop at home tonight, although it's more likely I'll spend the night cleaning instead. I'm not sure if I have my 7am lecture tomorrow; I'll have to call John. Either way, I'm determined tonight will be productive...and I'll be whittling down the pile of CDs I borrow from WNUR to see what's worth copying at the same time.

I might need to go to the grocery store, too. I drank my last beer during Critical Mass on Friday and that is what is driving me to go. Not the fact that I've been out of fruit and vegetables for two months - no, never that. Tonight I think I'll break open that bottle of Framboise that's been sitting on my counter for three months or more. I still feel like my two bottles of fruity lambic beer need to be shared and appreciated properly.

After school I rode up to Lincoln Park and dropped $44 on a Santa Suit for the Santa Cycle Rampage. 9 miles on the bike today, in short sleeves and rolled up pants since it was over 60 degrees, and I get home soaked through, plus I had the whole Santa Suit strapped to my back on my bag, which was a pretty big bundle all together. Crossing the Kennedy on Chicago, I got hit with a big whif of chocolate-flavored particulate air pollution. All in all, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Er....yeah.

I sat on the stoop and cooled off and went through my (mostly junk) mail. Now it's time to get something done today.

I failed at self-inspiration this weekend

The holiday weekend is coming to a close. I feel like I wasted most of it. I've watched four or five movies, read some, and did a little apartment cleaning. If I felt like I'd done a complete cleaning I might feel a little better about it. I did get to sleep a fair amount, though. Tomorrow starts four full weeks of school until the winter break. What do you think my chances are of getting my IRB proposal submitted? Tomorrow I start beating my thesis into the proper format.

I called Dani last night, expecting to get her machine and leave another message, but she was actually home, and we talked for a while until it was time for me to go into WNUR. She's going to be coming to town next weekend to take care of her brother for two weeks, so hopefully we can get together while she's here. Dani was asking about music since she doesn't get much exposure out on the res, so I plan to burn some CDs for her.

I want sushi this week. I need to get a Santa suit for the Santa Rampage in three weeks, which will probably run me close to sixty bucks. And I need to replace the lights on my bike, and get a good mirror too.

I'm home and delirious and slightly intoxicated from a close to 40-mile bike ride

I drove up to Wilmette again today to see Stranger Than Fiction with my family. It was really good. I want to see it again. Will Farrel in a non-comedic role was nice to see. The movie was a bit too glossy though; I think it would've done better with a little bit more of an unfinished touch to it.

Plus, Maggie Gyllenhaal's character was so perfectly and vulnerably strong and attractive that it made me lonely sitting between my parents on one side and my brother and his girlfriend on the other.

After I got back to city, I met up with Danny downtown for Critical Mass. We went up to the Gold Coast, and back down to the Magnificent Mile and down State St. to Roosevelt, then west about 3-4 miles, and further south, then back north and so forth. After three hours, Danny and I peeled off (the mass was down to a few hundred people by then, if that) and headed up north to Babak's for a little get-together.

6-7 beers later (including the pint of Young's I put back during the ride) I'm home and delirious and slightly intoxicated from a close to 40-mile bike ride, ready to sleep. And sleep I shall.

But first, a question to ponder: what kind of conversation do you think an endodontist, orthodontist, general dentist, and lab tech have over beer late on a Friday night?

Feast and pretend the myth has nothing to do with our celebration

The Broadways song lyrics I posted earlier is my traditional Thanksgiving song. It doesn't hurt that the song kicks ass on its own, either.

Tonight was the first Thanksgiving in seven years that my parents had in Illinois (and the first in four years I've spent with them) and there were 26 people at dinner - 27 counting the baby. And fuck was there a lot of food, and fuck did it get eaten (and drunk).

The few of us who spoke no Farsi ended up sitting at one table, which was dubbed the "Anti-Farsi League." And there was some good conversation. I can always rely on my family's Persian friends for insightful political and economic discussion. Hell, last night I was waiting for my parents at Mirani's and within 30 seconds Kaveh and I had started arguing about the feasibility of a U.S. military strike on Iran. Granted, he brought it up because of the No War button on my jacket, but still...

To round out your Thanksgiving, read this article from last year. When I have the means, perhaps I'll head out to Mass. each year rather than feast and pretend the myth has nothing to do with our celebration.

UPDATE: A little more to waste your time to.

Everything I Ever Wanted to Know About Genocide I Learned In the Third Grade

Third graders holding hands
Indians and pilgrims celebrating new found lands
They tried to teach me that at school
Make the white race look superior, it's always been their rule
Now I can't believe we celebrate Thanksgiving as a holiday of unity and peace
If i had my way, we'd all dress in black
And daddy would serve up the white meat
'Cuz genocide is nothing to celebrate, extinction doesn't deserve a parade
And we perpetuate these lies with the turkeys that we buy
I tried explaining to my mom but she's too afraid
To admit to herself
That her race is a killing machine
Take a good look around your town and who do you see?
The Native American is surprisingly absent in his own indigenous land
Do you want to know why?
It's cuz we killed them all
It's not that hard to understand, yeah
So i go to college and you know what I learned?
That 80 million people were killed
By my grandpa, your grandpa and all of their friends
They bleached out our continent but that's not the end
The last full-blooded aborigine died a century ago
If it's possible there's a place in the southern hemisphere
With a history even worse than our home
No one finds it peculiar
That a tropical island is full of people just like you and me
But Australia's a piece of shit floating in the Pacific
Buoyed by the blood of the aborigine

I am fucktastically tired right now

14-hour day, 7am lecture, worked through lunch. I am fucktastically tired right now. I'm going to read the Onion and go to bed. Tomorrow is free lunch, then dinner with the family for Kevin's birthday, then gorge-on-food-Thursday.

I spent almost three hours tonight just putting corrections into my thesis and changing the format around. I swear, it's got so many headings now that an 13-year-old could read it. The goddamn thesis manual is longer than my thesis will be. Whatever, just git 'er done.

No deep thoughts; all the food I have is frozen gyoza and I don't feel like eating those another night. Shit.

Extensive amounts of food and drink distract and satiate me

I just got back from Rosa's wedding, and her new husband is a pretty nice guy. Not what I expected from her descriptions, but that's just my mind playing tricks on me. It was good to catch up with June, Jeff, Pauline and My as well, and meet the guy Pauline's dating and My's husband as well.

The silly emo boy in me likes weddings. The lonely emo boy in me gets a little sad at weddings. Fortunately the extensive amounts of food and drink distract and satiate me, albeit temporarily. Regardless, I'm home now.

This weekend has pretty much been spent in mental relaxation. I mostly listened to a shitload of music and read news stories and The Selfish Gene. I think I cooked food for myself for the first time in probably close to two months. I did go out and run some errands yesterday, by car since I was feeling a bit under the weather and felt I should avoid physical exertion. Traffic sucks. I was thinking, Wow, I don't remember it this bad in the 'burbs, but then I think about how bad it was on the weekends in the 'burbs and admit that it's bad everywhere. Our society is way overdependent on cars. And to tie in with car culture, at Rob's birthday party last night, all the young dentists were discussing the new cars they bought, all either SUVs or Turbo something-or-others. Shee-it.

My highlight of the night was cracking the math behind a card trick some woman was doing at the bar. Here's how: take a deck of 52 cards. Shuffle. Place the top card face up, count from that number up to ten, placing a card down at each count. Repeat until all cards are down in piles. If any pile couldn't reach ten, pick it back up. If any card at the bottom of a pile is a face card, pick it back up and put it at the bottom. Have someone pick three of the piles you've laid down. Pick up the rest of the cards, so the entire deck minus the three piles is in your hand. Flip the three piles over so they're face down. Count off 19 cards from the remaind of the deck in your hand, set them aside. The number of cards in your hand now will equal the sum of the top cards of the three piles down.

Let x, y, z be the value of the cards placed at the bottom of the three piles when they were created, and made the top cards when the piles are flipped over. The number of cards in each pile will be (11-x), (11-y), (11-z). The total number of cards in those piles will be 33-(x+y+z). The number of cards in your hand will be 52-[33-(x+y+z)], or 19+x+y+z. Remove 19 cards and the number of cards remaining in your hand will be x+y+z. Go amaze your friends and get girls.

I got my New Year's Eve Alkaline Trio/Smoking Popes ticket. And some ice cider for Thanksgiving. People better appreciate that shit, man. It's expensive.

I don't know how to kick some effort into the radio kids. I'm the only one who consistently shows up in time to pull some music before the show, and they all depend on me to be early so they can show up late. I'm going to read them the riot act after Turkey Day.

After six months of trying to reach Dani by phone, I finally emailed her. I really should've done so much sooner.

Shit, I didn't think I'd have anything to write.

Bring your bored, bring your broken-hearted

I saw Heavens tonight; it was a pretty good show. Dana and her boyfriend Chris came out too, and seemed to enjoy it. We went to Pick Me Up after, where I put away about $20 worth of food. Dammit!

Alkaline Trio/Smoking Popes show at Metro on New Year's Eve. Fuck right I'm going. Tix are $66, though, so I gotta grab some cash and get up there and get a ticket tomorrow. I was telling Dana that I'd pay $33 to see either band for New Year's Eve show, and this is just double the pleasure. Better than last year, which I spent in my parents' living room in Oakland.

I'm done with my lit review, or at least what literature I've found so far, and pretty much with my protocol. I need to sit down with BeGole and set up the statistical model, then get approval from my committee and IRB. Then find research subjects. One thing at a time.

I started (re)reading Richard Dawkins's The Selfish Gene since Sadowsky and Schneider and I were talking about mitochondrial DNA and the genetic basis of evolution earlier this week. I read sections of it in college, but I remember it being informative. Anyway, this is from the first chapter:

Curiously, peace-time appeals for individuals to make some small sacrifice in the rate at which they increase their standard of living seem to be less effective than war-time appeals for individuals to lay down their lives.

My pop culture seclusion is actually increasing the quality of what does impinge upon my consciousness.

I saw Borat! with Trish tonight. Pretty good. Not as funny as Jackass Number Two but still pretty damn funny. The few movies I see are definitely worth seeing. My pop culture seclusion is actually increasing the quality of what does impinge upon my consciousness.

The course today was stupid. I learned nothing, did nothing with it. I did get another page or two done on my thesis, though. Woo.

My department head is gone tomorrow, and the course isn't scheduled to start until ten, so I'm going to benadryl it to sleep tonight. I already drank half a bottle of Chimay.

I completely spaced on getting in contact with the practice Derek sent me. Tomorrow, hopefully, I can send the email and at least get a look in. Timbuk2 sent my bag already, and I need to get a big map of Chicago somewhere to start setting up practice searches.

Tomorrow I'm going to see Heavens with Dana, which should be pretty cool. Saturday I'll need to find a wedding gift for Rosa and a birthday gift for my brother. I have no idea what to get for either.

This post is useless.

I'm tired. I've been staying up too late exercising my mind the last few nights. Tomorrow I've got an all-day boring-ass mechanics course. And Friday, too. I won't be able to obviously work on much stuff that I have to get done, so I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to kill the time. Maybe I can do some easy labwork? I'll probably just end up talking and shooting some shit with people.

After I format it, I've got at least 27 pages done on my thesis. And I'm not even done with the lit review yet. I really should get ahold of the style guide to make sure I'm formatting it right.

This post is useless. I'm going to bed.

My name is Darren Obviate, and I have a purple mohawk and black nail polish.

Last night I decided to check out Second Life. It wasn't that great. It had its moments, but mostly, unless you feel like investing as much time in your avatar's life as your own dreams might need, you walk - or fly - around and try to meet people. It's like a big chat room, only you have to be geographically near someone to chat with them (although you can also IM). Big deal. I just don't see it worth the time. I'd rather have real friends. That said, it might be fun to visit once in a while. The people who actually spend money on there to build virtual homes for their virtual people and buy them virtual shit are just full of ostentation. Is consumerism really bringing people to materialism in an immaterial realm?

I guess if you like online RPGs, you might get a kick out of it. I don't, really.

If anyone joins, or is there already, let me know. We can be friends! (puke!) My name is Darren Obviate, and I have a purple mohawk and black nail polish.

In other news, today I wished I had my computer with me since all the computers were in use and I wanted to work on my thesis. (I got access later) I decided that I really need a bag capable of transporting my portable desktop better than my current messenger bag. Don't get me wrong, it's a great bag that I'm going to keep using; it's just that my computer is too big to be carried comfortably in it. I'd been thinking about it for a while, so I went ahead and ordered a large messenger bag from Timbuk2. $115 with shipping. I can't wait.

Other than that, I feel like I did accomplish something today. As well as have some good conversations with Sadowsky & Schneider, or Stadtler & Waldorf as they've come to be known.

Derek sent me a lead on a practice in Lincoln Park that the owner is looking to sell next year...although he's probably in his early 70s, so he did not plan this well...the area looks promising, although it'd be a lot of single adults, I think. I need to check stuff out more before I commit, but it's definitely an option to keep open.

I can resume forgetting the things I've lost

I was looking through the hard drive on my old desktop to find a place to save the album I'd copied from vinyl, and I found a folder with a photo of Marta and me from three years ago. Apparently, I missed a few things when I sanitized everything of her last summer. Wow, was that a younger me. Longer hair, and not anywhere near as much gray, and I think a little less chubby about the cheeks. Sad that that is the first thing I focused on.

Anyway, I vaguely remembered the night it was taken...obviously a school night since I was wearing scrubs. It was some gathering of Marta's friends that she'd asked me to come to, and I think food was involved so I readily agreed. Just kidding, I'd have gone anyway.

Someone said later how she and I made out the whole time, but really, I don't think we did anything I'd consider making out at all. Yeah, we did kiss, but rather chastely, and not constantly by any means. But hell, I lived 45 minutes away from my girlfriend and didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her, in my opinion. So I made no apologies for that.

It's weird, really. That fall I had a few high-stress things going on. I was going through the final stages of my residency application process, as well as studying my ass off for part II of my national boards, and Marta was getting irritated with me for always being busy with that. The way she looks in that picture is not exactly how I remember her, although to be fair we did have another year or more after that before things fell apart.

There's definitely a part of me that wants to go back to that time, which my faded memory tells me was simpler and happier. It's probably a good thing that the photo's now been deleted for good, and I can resume forgetting the things I've lost.

Just about every muscle is sore in some way, this being a good thing...

The sun has just set. As I sit writing in the rapidly waning daylight, the weekend is fading. The feeling I have right now is strongly reminding me of dental school...

There was a good period of time in dental school where my Saturdays would be spent vegging out in bed until the early afternoon, then watching the taped TV I'd recorded all week. Now, you can imaging that by the time I mustered something to eat and showered to rejoin the living, it would be night already. Combined with the radio show, my sloth just about killed my Saturdays, and then Sunday would be spent sleeping in again and maybe some more of the same, without the excessive TV watching. Although I did watch a fuckload of TV in those days. After Sara moved to Lakeview, there was a period of time where we'd sit in her studio apartment with no views and bask in the artificial lighting and glow of cable TV for practically all of Sunday.

Today I didn't wake up until after noon. I just put on some music and laid in bed, reading the rest of the Transmetropolitan that Laura lent me. It was after 4pm that I finally rolled out and into the shower. I didn't really notice it before, but just about every muscle is sore in some way, this being a good thing as it's a strong indicator of my enjoyment and participation in the Lawrence Arms show last night. (Kate said she was watching me as much as the band)

I've gotten so many ska records in the last week that I was able to do the whole Ska Sound System off them. Crazy. It also made me realize that I need to listen to them and get to know them. Yess.... Right now, I've got Ngobo Ngobo's Daily Talk on the turntable, and while I'm listening to it I'm also recording it to the hard drive for CD conversion. Exciting, right?

I was at my parents' yesterday afternoon, and they asked if I wanted any of my old textbooks. I think they were surprised I took so many - two paper shopping bags full. I mean, they've paid probably close to $150,000 or more for my formal education, and I can't remember half of it...so I figure having the reference books around is a good thing.

I'm debating whether to go out to see Iraq For Sale tonight. I'm leaning strongly towards NO, partially due to inertia and partially because I don't feel like sitting through a documentary that's going to tell me things I already know. Maybe a few statistics, but I just can't handle that tonight.

Right now it's dark outside and I haven't eaten in nearly 24 hours. I have a hankering for fried calamari, but really would like to avoid both paying for it and going out to get it. Maybe for lunch tomorrow.

Maybe tonight will be spent cleaning and listening to music. I'll at least feel like I've accomplished something. But first:

What have I got in the fridge.....?

Good friend, how loud do you want life to shout her answers in your ears?

I'm reading song lyrics and singing along and I feel like all my neurotransmitters are depleted. Or maybe I'm just hypoglycemic.

I feel old.

I got back from John and Rebecca's reception...even Chet Handelman was joking about how he should have brought a flask. But the food was good and the company was good.

I came home and realized I dumped two full loads of clean laundry on my bed before I left. I resigned myself to folding it before sleeping. I first hung up the clothes I wore to the reception.

I saw myself in the mirror.

I'm wearing black dress socks, boxers and a wifebeater.

I feel old.

Freezing rain...

...slants down in icy sheets on some street where someone is cursing what they've done.

I rode my bike home in the cold, cold windy rain without adequate gear and got home freezing.

Apathy and Exhaustion

I've been so tired this week, that I've been really cranky and irritable. Certain smart-asses out there that deal with me daily have been jerking me around with it too, just to irritate me.

Tonight is my chance to recuperate, especially since I've got John's reception tomorrow night and the Lawrence Arms show on Saturday. I'd like to be feeling relatively human next week, which means starting my weekend restup a night early.

I've got a pile of new CDs to listen to, most of which I probably won't get to until next week or later. I skipped out on a CDS free drinks/dinner deal tonight in the name of getting work done, then decided I was too damn tired to get any work done.

I'm going to shower and sleep now. It will feel damn good.

Blow it out your ass!

Imagine Americans celebrating a historical plot to blow up Congress. Imagine some redneck sticking a firecracker up his ass and hurting himself with it. Got it in your mind?

The British have it in real life.

I'm going to go home and sleep now

I'm still at school and it's nigh on 10pm. I did get some work done tonight, although I was pretty damn zonked even after I slept an hour in the afternoon. I also read the Onion and AVClub pretty thoroughly.

The English Beat last night was pretty good. It was warm in there, though. Dave Wakeling has a pretty distinctive voice too. It wasn't the real Beat; I guess it should be called the Dave Wakeling Band. Still, most of the songs they played were English Beat songs. The only complaint I have is that the drummer was very averse to using his snare, and it was constant bass-drum booms.

I'm probably too optimistic about the Democrat victories in yesterday's election. Give it a few weeks and they'll prove they don't know how to lead from the front or take a stand on any of the issues that got the Republicans voted out. It's sad that I agree with some Republican (can't remember who) who said, "The Democrats didn't win, the Republicans lost."

This is my favorite quote from today: "He and I are constantly assessing. And I'm assessing, as well, all the time. By myself." Georgie-boy is growing up!

I'm going to go home and sleep now.

Since I consider a corrupt Democrat as useful as a straight Republican governor...

It turns out the Tennessee Three aren't playing on Thursday. Dana was gonna come with me instead of the English Beat show tonight, but now she can't go to either. So she said she wants to go to the Heavens show next Friday. In a little while I'm going to head up to the Abbey Pub for some dinner and a pint before the English Beat play. I'm planning on going a little late since I don't really want to see Skapone or Kristoffer Ragnstam.

I got home at 4:45 after voting and totally crashed. I voted as straight a Green ticket as I could, then Democrat for the rest. Despite my disagreement with Whitney's concealed carry stance (which would never pass in Illinois anyway), I still would prefer him over G-Rod, who's probably as corrupt as Ryan was. Since I consider a corrupt Democrat as useful as a straight Republican governor, I went Green instead.

Derek put me on his shitlist since his coffee cups got thrown out for being stacked in front of the sharps container near his chair. Sometimes he's just a petulant child. I wouldn't have cared if it weren't four coffee cups, obviously dirty, blocking my access to the container with a needle in my hand. John said he did it to himself in this case. I didn't even know the cups were his. Fuck it. Everyone's on his shitlist for something or another.

The thing about taking a late afternoon nap is that it leaves me in an odd state of consciousness. My eyes feel rotten, and my stomach undone, but I'm not really tired. I'm sure once I throw some water on my face and eat some dinner I'll feel fine.

Somehow, life got in the way.

I was going to go to school this evening and get some work done on my thesis. That's what I was planning, anyway. Somehow, life got in the way.

To start with, I woke up from my nap a little after 5pm. I was so out of it; it was dark, and for some reason, I started thinking it was too late to go and get anything done (not true). Anyway, still groggy, I popped in the Spitfire CD I got last night and picked up my reading of Fallen Dragon. After a while I decided that I didn't really need to go tonight, since - if I remember correctly - I don't have any patients in the morning and can recoup at that time.

I finished reading my book. At least that's done with - now I can get back into my life without the book controlling my thoughts. The problem with good books, I suppose. My plans for the rest of the evening consist of eating some dinner, showering and going to bed so I'm not totally exhausted for my 7am class tomorrow.

I was so exhausted all day; I only slept four hours last night. I got home from Riot Fest around midnight, and then I had to eat something and shower and, of course, remove my nail polish.

The show was good. I'm mollified from missing the Raygun show Saturday night, I guess. I can accept the $19 trade-off the ticket would have cost. There were lots of good sets, but I think the combination of my exhaustion, the Congress theater's general suckiness, and in some cases my lack of complete familiarity affected the quality of the show. The only sets I really enjoyed were Deal's Gone Bad and Naked Raygun. It was good to see Youth Brigade, I just haven't listened to them that much - and they didn't play "Believe in Something," which is my favorite song of theirs. 7Seconds managed to massacre some of their own songs, as well as a cover of "Minor Threat" that removed just about all traces of melody from the song. Both times I've seen them, they've suffered from this, despite being pretty decent on studio recordings.

I also spent $40 on music from Chuck Wren, which means I got a whole shopping bag worth. Crazy guy. It'll probably take me weeks to listen to and assimilate it into the musical memory banks in my brain.

Tomorrow I'm going to see the English Beat and on Thursday to the Tennessee Three with Dana. Wednesday is another sushi day, hooray! Friday is John's wedding reception, Saturday the Lawrence Arms. At some point I need to take my car into the shop, too, since the check engine light just came on today, the temperature is staying way low, and it's due for an oil change, balance and alignment. I have no idea when I'm going to do that - I may have to borrow my parents' car, or forego some WNUR nights. Hmmm. And it looks like I won't be getting too much work done on my thesis for a while, either.

A recap from the past few days is due, I suppose.

The Yue Brew was pretty good. A nice red ale, not too strong, nicely flavored. My personal tastes run a little sweeter, as this was a tad bitter, but not bad. Pretty good actually. Thursday night was spent consuming the 22oz. bottle Isaac gave me and reading Fallen Dragon.

Last night I met Laura and her friend Alicia and her friend Cari. The two of them were trying to set me and Cari up...it didn't work. I know I wasn't attracted to her. Not that she isn't cool; just not my type. I've learned that I can't force the attraction. Cari later asked Laura if she and I were dating...so obviously it was a two-way attraction.

Lucero last night was awesome. They played for two hours. Some girl rubbed my head in the pit. And I think I've had beer spilled on me at every Lucero show I've been to. A lot of fun, and my voice was going by the end of the night.

Since I can't go to the Raygun show tonight, I'm heading up to my parents' to do laundry and get free dinner before WNUR. I just had a crepe with Laura at the Iguana Cafe. Right now I think I need a nap.

If you think that your country can torture its enemies into safety with no side effects, you're a fucking idiot.

I don't understand how "conservatives" can still support the Bush regime. Not that this is surprising any more, but it still disturbed so much that I couldn't finish the article the first time I read it. This is what I'm talking about. The Justice Department filed a motion opposing the right to an attorney because the suspect (who was arrested in Pakistan and then held in undisclosed locations for three years before transfer to Gitmo) might tell his lawyer how he was "interrogated."

On the face, the government's motion is ridiculous. I think any terrorist out there can be reasonably sure he will be tortured if captured, by this point, whether legal or not. And if you read the Military Commisions Act of 2006, then you know that as long as the "interrogation technique" isn't intended to cause bodily harm or death, it's A-okay. As long as it's done in the name of getting information.

If you consider yourself a conservative and don't want to conserve something as basic as the right to an attorney and a guaranteed fair trial (or even the legal fiction of one), how do you reconcile the difference? Because it makes you "safer"? Bullshit.

What makes you safer is people not hating this country. Which is done when they're not mired in poverty and warfare, when they aren't being subjugated to corporate colonialism in the name of the god Profit. It's the same with crime; crime rates are lowered when the standard of living increases.

Even if you don't agree that the US is a corporate colonial power, you have to agree that people with a low quality of life and high mortality rates have more to be angry about and less to lose by lashing out.

And for those of you who complain that they wouldn't pay back whatever aid, don't be so goddamn selfish and short-sighted. For the same gain in your personal safety, it would cost a shitload less than military enforcement.

So I went off on a tangent. Still, if you think that your country can torture its enemies into safety with no side effects, you're a fucking idiot.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!!

Ryan called me tonight to give me the good news that Naked Raygun would be the secret guest at the show tomorrow night. He also told me the show was sold out.

I had to give him the bad news: I don't have a ticket.

Fuck.

Is You Is, Or Is You Ain't, My Baby?

When we were kids and Kevin was still pretty young, like 4 or 5, he would get a Tom & Jerry tape to watch every time he had his tri-weekly IV. As a result, I'm very familiar with a whole range of Tom & Jerry cartoons through time.

Tonight at the Abbey, the band played "Is You Is, or Is You Ain't, My Baby?" They introduced it as being a song first learned from Tom & Jerry cartoons as a kid. I appreciated it.

I went to the Abbey primarily to pick up tix for next week's English Beat show and the Slackers show next month, then sat for some shepherd's pie and a pint of Guinness. Right as I got there, Kate called, and when I took my earphone out the earpiece stayed in.

After about ten minutes of digging in my ear with my finger to no avail, I resigned myself to deal with it until I got home and tugged it out with tweezers.

Which I did, promptly, after a frantic search of my medicine cabinet for the damn thing.

For some reason my hands were fucking freezing by the time I got to the Abbey from the Music Box. Well, my right thumb anyway, since the gloves are pretty much peeled to the knuckle on that one. But the ride up to the Music Box and the ride home from the Abbey were fine. Hmmm.

Trish and I tried to meet up for Death of a President at the Music Box, but I went in first since she was stuck in traffic, and then she couldn't find me until the end of the movie. Anyway, we were able to talk a bit, which was good, and it's always good to get hugs. She said her friend Amy wanted to be new friends with me, which is cool.

The movie was excellent. Haunting. Not overtly political either, which is good, as it made its case through example, and the subject matter was pretty attention-grabbing as well.

I got home all sweaty, dripping, shirt wet. Now I'm chilly and must shower before bed.

Soon. Sleep soon.

The Young's is about gone, and the Lucero is petering out.

One last passage (I hope) from Fallen Dragon:

Worst of all, for Lawrence, was the rust. He'd never realized there was so much metal involved with the city's construction, blithely assuming its component parts were all sophisticated modern composite, held together with intricate molecular bonds. But they weren't: metal remained the cheapest and easiest method of fabrication. Templeton had been screwed, riveted, nailed, reinforced and bolted into a cohesive whole like every other human conurbation since the Iron Age. And now it was paying the price of that cheapness in Amethi's Wakening climate. Rust oozed from every structure. It was the city's sweat, exuded from a million filthy pores. Grubby red-brown stains dribbled and wept along each surface, sapping its strength in an eternal drip of oxidation.

Oh, wow.

This is the third time I'm reading this book, but it's just so wonderful right now, I feel like I could cry from joy. Hope can be renewed by art, it's true.

More from Fallen Dragon:

She rested her elbow on the bar and put her chin in her palm to give him a quizzical look. "You're funny, Lawrence. I've never met a boy like you before."

"What do you mean?"

"Half the time you act like you're terrified of me."

"I'm not!" he protested indignantly.

"Good to know. You've got lovely eyes, halfway between gray and green."

"Oh. Um, thanks."

She broke off a corner of toast and popped in her mouth. "Which is your cue to give me a compliment. Any part of me you like?"

A strength of will the he never knew he had stopped him from looking directly at her chest. Instead he gazed right back into her shining gray eyes. "I wouldn't know where to begin," he said softly, and blushed.

For a moment she held still; then a wide smile spread across her lips. "That sounded like a pretty good beginning to me. For someone who comes over all reticent, you've got the moves, Lawrence."

"That wasn't a move. That's what I really think."

A fucking great excerpt...

Peter F. Hamilton, from Fallen Dragon:

They grabbed food from the buffet and talked by shouting over the music. She drank her beer straight from the bottle. They danced some more. Drank some more.

With blood pounding, his skin sticky with sweat and alcohol humming sweetly in hid head, Lawrence folded his arms around her in the middle of all the swaying people. She flowed up against him, resting her head on his shoulder for a slow number. Golden light broke over her, shimmering into deep violet. They smiled in lazy unison. Lawrence tilted his head forward, and they were kissing.

Isaac warned me it's the first batch. It says so right on the label.

Isaac gave me a 22oz. of the home brew he and a friend made in MI today. Yue Brew, it's called. Supposedly a Belgian-style brew, but he warned me it's the first batch. It says so right on the label. I can't wait to try it.

I left it in the fridge in the resident room at school. I can't drink it tonight, like I wanted.

I realized this as soon as I got home, and put a bottle of Young's Chocolate Stout in the freezer with a stein, so that should be a nice little departure before bed.

John and I had a nice discussion about gay rights today. Goddamn is that boy conditioned. Of course, he calls it maintaining the tradition he was brought up in. He seriously thinks that allowing gay marriage will erode heterosexual marriage by semantic effects. I mean, shit, what the fuck is wrong with people? I guess a lot of it is just fear of confronting a world that doesn't match their worldview, so instead of adjusting their worldview, they try and change the world instead. The worst kind of ideologues. That said, John is a super nice guy who would never be judgemental of anyone, and one of my best friends. But, damn.

One of these days, I've got to be rested enough to cut my hair before I shower and hit the hay. Tonight I'm going to shower, sip beer, and read.

Whatever the cause, it cleared me right the fuck out.

I just got back from a bike ride bordering on twenty miles. It was pretty good...it wasn't until the last 4 or 5 miles that I really started feeling winded...literally. I rode north to Granville, and rode back south on the Lakefront Path, which was beautiful except for one thing: the wind. There were times that I felt like the gusts could stop me in about 3 seconds if I stopped pedalling.

The weather today was beautiful...almost 70 degrees, which is fanfuckingtastic for the end of October. Actually, it would be fanfuckingtastic any time. But since I had my research presentation this morning (it went fine, no questions even, and my advisor said she was impressed with it, even), I wasn't feeling a lot of pressure to get work done this evening, and decided to take advantage of the warmth.

Last night I couldn't fall asleep. Possibly because I slept until almost noon and then went to bed at midnight...anyway, around 1am I turned the light on and decided to do some light reading. The book I pulled off the shelf was Peter Hamilton's Fallen Dragon, which is one of those underrated books that no one really hears about. Especially for science fiction. A pretty believable version of the future, with protagonists whose problems are universally human. Fuck, despite all the economically structured warfare and sociological developments in the main plot, it's really about the search for a lost and wasted youth.

Like I said, a light read. I think the first time I read it was while I was studying for Part I of the National Boards.

Anyway, after the resultant 5 hours of sleep that left me, I was pretty tired by this afternoon, so I crashed out for a good hour and a half before the last interview dinner of the season.

GROSS SHIT WARNING: DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE FOLLOWING

It seems like every interview dinner results in me getting increased intestinal motility. Maybe it's the caffeine, since I drink like a pitcher of cola. Either that or the oily fried calamari. Whatever the cause, it cleared me right the fuck out. Just thought I'd share.

"Fuck you. This is my costume."

I thought I was being lazy and little surly. I didn't spend any time preparing for Halloween. I would have liked to have a cool costume, but really felt like I couldn't spare the time to prepare/shop for one.

I had the idea Friday night to put on all my snowboard gear and haul my old snowboard around. Then I decided I would be both too hot and too encumbered for it to be worth it. So I wore what I was wearing yesterday to Tara's Halloween party. Granted, sometimes that will pass for a costume on its own. (Some kid was supposed to be new wave, but he really just looked like a hipster.) I put a piece of duct tape on my chest that said in pretty small print, "Fuck you. This is my costume." Everyone who leaned in close to read it laughed and said it was good. I thought it was going to come off as cheap and lazy, which is what it really was.

Maybe my laziness is brilliant?

Some guy thought my nail polish was for Halloween. I had to explain it was a more regular occurrence.

Doing that much time in my school clothes may prematurely soil them

I just showered for the first time in three days. Before you say, "Oh, gross, you dirty fucker!" hear me out. Well, try.

I guess I have a crap reason for not doing so on Wednesday night - I was dilligently (desperately?) trying to find some freeware to either convert DVD directly to AVI so I could convert that to my MP3 player and have something to watch during my boring Thursday night lecture. Last night I was out with Trish and didn't get home until after midnight and just crashed despite the lingering odor of cigarettes about my person.

Tonight was another Critical Mass night. I met up with Danny Kaplan and Steve "It's been a while since I've been to Mass" Weeks, although they had to cut out before the end of the ride - Weeks to catch a train home to Mundelien and Danny when we neared his house a little before 9pm. I stuck it out to the end despite intermittent drizzling and a biting wind out by the lake, but it was fun. I always enjoy making people smile, especially the girls we pass. (Girls are just so damn good-looking!) But by the end, like I said, I was all alone for the six miles back home. I did stop and have some Thai food, which was good.

I'd like to ride out to my parents' house sometime, but I don't have the time to go there and back most days. Maybe Thanksgiving will be a good time. Hmm. I think I should get a bigger messenger bag to tote more stuff for those longer trips.

Riding the bike gives me time to think about things. My mind can wander, stimulated by song lyrics to take strange or unusual turns of thought. I want to try and build more bike riding time into my life. I think I should be able to find time for a ten-mile ride every day without any problems...we'll see though, since I'm usually so tired by the time I get home. Maybe I should just start planning fifteen-mile trips home rather than the two miles or so it currently is, although doing that much time in my school clothes (yes, I said it) may prematurely soil them and may not be as comfortable either.

But back to the wandering mind...it occurred to me tonight that I can't really remember what it feels like to kiss a girl. Not that I won't remember how to do it when I find one to kiss...it's just that I've gone so long without that the feeling is hard to recall. Well, there are two girls I've made out with in the last year and a half, but both of them were horrible kissers, as in suck your face and tongue and you deal with the vacuum-induced capillary lysis. Ouch. Not too hot, let me tell you. So that's one more thing I can feel sorry for.

On a related note, last night I told Trish that I can't remember what it feels like to be in love. I can remember that it was fucking awesome and worth all the shit you have to swim through for it, but I can't remember what it felt like.

Plus, I've got a huge fucking canker sore in my right buccal vestibule adjacent to my lower right molars and it's goddamn fucking annoying.

My bed beckons...and I'm fucking worn enough to heed its call, no problem.

Countdown to Ska Night...

This week has been one of those busy weeks. Just always something going on, so I'm constantly busy but not too busy. Today was more of the same. And more free food. Seriously, cookies and stuffed pizza. Plenty of soda. I still slept during my 4:30 lecture despite the caffeine intake earlier. And because I'm a nice guy, I traded presentation times with Silvana so I get to present Monday morning rather than Tuesday morning. Bleh.

At least tonight, Trish and I are going to Delilah's for ska night and good beer (for me anyway, she's sticking to club soda, I think). First, though, I must work dilligently on my thesis so I have more useful stuff to put into my presentation.

In other news, people are stupid. My favorite part:


Rereading that first line, I really must say that it seems like most weeks are those busy weeks. Someday soon I'll have my thesis under control (really?) and can relax at night some.

Right.

One quick post before I sleep.

Siddhi mentioned something today about how she doesn't feel creative. I said I understood, that I'm too tired to be creative anymore. Working on my literature review, I feel like I can't write for shit. I'm just putting one-paragraph summaries of the different articles I've read into a loose outline form and calling it a review. I'm sure I'll radically rewrite the thing once I can get some sort of consistent thought out of it, but still, right now it's not even worth being called verbal diarrhea.

I'm getting hungry in the mornings these days, and find myself snacking on donuts and so forth. Which has worked out well the last two days, as I didn't eat lunch until 4:30 or 5:00. Today lunch and dinner were one and the same, which means I'll be really hungry when I wake up tomorrow. Maybe I just need to drink more water and fill up...I'm still carrying more excess baggage than I need to, anyhoo. But I already know I get free lunch and dinner tomorrow, so....

I'm going to go to bed now, an hour earlier than usual, and praise myself for attempting to rest. Maybe tomorrow I can get some more real work done instead of throwing in the towel and saying "Fuck this!" at 8pm.

Right.

I want a hot drink right now.

It was so cold and windy today that as I rode to school - without my goggles - my eyes started to hurt. Thankfully I had my goggles in my bag "just in case," and was able to make the ride home in much more comfort.

I finally got a big chunk of my lit review done...I have about 40 more articles to go, but I did the big 10. I think the rest will go a little faster since they're not as relevant and I can gloss over them a bit more. What an exciting week I have ahead!

Our lab at school was fucking cold though. I was wearing a jacket and hat the whole time I was there. The hallway feels OK, but as soon as you pass through the doorway there's a noticeable change in temperature. Come winter though, it'll be pretty hot in there. Weird.

I gave up on finding a Halloween costume. I can shave my head and put on a plain T-shirt and sneakers and go as Ian MacKaye in the Minor Threat days. Really, I'll probably just go without unless I find something good at the store later this week.

I've been listening to Jello Biafra's new 3CD spoken word release. That, combined with reading the issues of Transmetropolitan Laura lent me, has left me feeling a little angry tonight. It didn't help that I've got a lack of quarters for laundry and a full load waiting...

Fa! I got school work done and feel good no matter what right now. Some of the weight has been lifted! Woo-hooooo!

Hesitation used to be the station that I'd get on at. Now it's Asshole, can you envision that?

It's been a few days since I wrote anything, and what a busy week it's been. Right now seems like a good time to resume my procrastination. I'm really supposed to be writing the lit review for my thesis, but can't quite find the willpower to sit down and review the stack of research papers sitting before me.

The prevailing theme in my life this week is exhaustion. I started out exhausted from my trip to Shit City last weekend, and it just got worse. Last night was the first time I really slept until my body awoke on its own. Ten-and-a-half hours. Not that I'm not still tired...I may take a nap later to further my procrastination and restfulness.

Thinking back on this week, though, I'm kind of amazed I made it through in as good a shape as I did. Monday and Tuesday, I was a walking wreck, napping pretty much anywhere I had a chance to put my head down. I got the bare amount of work done that I needed to...

Wednesday, after dinner with our new applicants, I went to a late Deal's Gone Bad show at Cobra Lounge. The $3 12oz. Guinness was a nice refresher from Vegas's shitty beers and even shittier overpricing, so I took a bit of advantage of that, especially since it was a free show. DGB played a two sets, and I was able to run into a few people I've made acquaintance with. Oh, and I was able to dance, too...So while going to a show that let out at 1:30am may not have been the best idea, or anywhere close to smart, it was worth it.

Thursday was another long day...I barely had time to eat lunch even, from all the work I was doing. Then I hauled ass from school to my house for a quick change to shorts and then up to the Metro for the Falcon show. Which rocked. The Copyrights were one of the openers, and while they played a good set, they stuck mostly to stuff from their new record, which I still don't have. The Falcon tore it up pretty well, playing I think every song they've written. In between sets, I got rousted by Metro security for falling asleep while sitting on a bench, and then for even sitting on the floor. God damn. "Who the fuck is Renee Zellwegger?"

By Friday morning, my right ankle - the one I sprained so badly two years ago - was starting to feel pretty sore. By Friday evening, I was again in shorts and out at the Metro for the Bouncing Souls show. World/Inferno opened, and their set wasn't as good as the last time I saw them in early 2005. Part of it may have been the stage height, or the crowd, or the fact that they played primarily songs off their new album which isn't particulary my favorite. None of the really uptempo songs of theirs that I like. Whole Wheat Bread just annoys me, and I spent their set reading a pretty depressing epidemiological study of post-invasion mortality rates in Iraq. Street Dogs put on a pretty good set, though; there's at least one scab on my arm where it ran into some kid's teeth. The Bouncing Souls gave a pretty damn good showing, and after all the teenage boys had worn themselves out slamming into each other, the singing and dancing was pretty sweet too. After show I stopped at the rock'n'roll DQ for a Blizzard. So I went to bed in a pretty good mood, and slept the sleep of the dead.

Earlier this week I met a girl who, from her body language and the way she would touch my arm and hugged me goodbye, seemed to be pretty into me. Granted, she was teeth-benumbingly drunk at the time. In the moment and in my exhaustion, I was pretty into her too, or at least into the idea of a girl who was into me. I would have done just about anything in that situation, and I'm glad the opportunities for anything serious didn't really present themselves. That's because as soon as I started heading home, I realized that I wasn't really that attracted to her at all. Thinking more on it the next day, I realized it's because I didn't feel challenged at all. Not in the sense of attaining affection, but in the sense of being inspired. The simple fact is that the gut feeling wasn't there.

Of course, I'd told her I'd call her, and I would probably enjoy having her as a friend, but I feel like I'd be an asshole for stringing her along, however unintentionally. The question is whether I'd be a bigger asshole for never calling...

Chinga Las Vegas!

I'm back from Las Vegas, and what a trip it was. And just once I'd like to get home from vacation without feeling exhausted.

To start everything off, that fuckhead-in-chief G.W. Bush was flying out of O'Hare Thursday night. Which means all sorts of shit was fucked-up and late. Shana and Rob and I waited in the airport for five hours for a three-and-a-half hour flight, and then when we got on the plane it was too late for them to show the movie, although they were able to play like eight episodes of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Christ in a fucking wheelchair.

So we get to the Venetian around 1:30am and check in. Then we're hungry again since it's been nine hours since we ate dinner, so we hit some cafe in the hotel that's owned by the Cheesecake Factory. Now, I like the food at the Cheesecake Factory. It's usually flavored pretty well, whatever you say about their decor. But this place bit it. $15 for fish and chips, and the chips were fucking shite. Even the fried calamari and zucchini Rob ordered was bland. I mean, how do you fuck up fried calamari?

If you've never been to Vegas, you can probably guess from the preceding that my tale will portray several examples of over-priced underwhelming bullshit.

We were staying at the Venetian, which bills itself as a replica of the real Venice. The truth is, the whole thing is so fucking plastic it's annoying. Having been to Venice, I'd much rather go back, even though I was bored when I was there. At least it was a real city, even if it was full of tourists, too. Just because you have a fake-ass grand canal and your security guards dress like carabinieri doesn't mean you've replicated Venice. Your plastic facade and stench of simulation belie the truth.

Las Vegas is a plastic-and-neon monument to artifice and superficial monolithic greed. Everything is overpriced. There isn't a drinking fountain in the entire fucking city, but every casino has huge fucking fountains out in the desert sun. Me being a frugal bastard, I found myself getting dehydrated throughout the day rather than spend $3 for a bottle of fucking water. And if you read my last post, you've probably figured out that I didn't gamble, although I did watch Shana flush $40 down a roulette table on a whim before we left.

I don't think there's anything authentic in the entire city. It's a chilling vision of the future of Republican America, with everything owned by giant corporations; crowds of people interested in superficial baubles and attention grabbing amusements, like pigeons to the sparkle of broken glass; and flushing their money down their toilet because they can't find the gall to violate cultural mores without permission from some fucking marketing campaign. The whole fucking city is an exercise in branding.

And shit, it was sickly humorous that almost all the people on the Strip who were schilling for the strip clubs and escort services were obvious immigrants. Women and foreigners making money off each other to serve the puerile interests of moderately more well-off Americans.

Everywhere I tried to walk was filled with slow-ass people that were looking at everything but where they were going, oblivious to everything around them but the shiny flashing shit.

On Friday, we went to the GAC party at Madamme Tussaud's Wax Museum. I was standing next to the Andre Agassi statue and some woman said we looked alike. Great. The food was bland - surprise! - and the beer was all weak shit - like the whole damn city! - but the hard liquor was free. I tied a big one on, and managed to fit my fist in my mouth for the first time ever - it left big teeth marks on my knuckles for a while. That last free drink kept me pretty fucked up for the rest of the night. Too fucked up, really.

After the late arrival Thursday night, I just wanted to sleep on Friday. Then that girl Amber that I met at GORP two months ago texted me at 8:45 in the morning. Fuckin' A! Anyway, I called her later in the day and she said was going to the Wax Museum Party and so I said I'd see her later, not really too excited to see her again but not willing to just discard someone who was being friendly.

At the museum that night, Anoki asked where my "girlfriend" was; after I said I hadn't seen her, Shana took my phone and texted her:

Shana, on my phone: Where r u?
Amber: Eating at the palm at ceasers
Shana, on my phone: I miss u!
Amber: [no response]
Shana, on my phone: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!
Amber: [no response]

Needless to say, we were all laughing over this, me included, because, really, who gives a shit about some girl that lukewarm with her friendship? When I saw her as I was walking out on a lecture the next day she kind of acknowledged my wave of hello. Hah.

Note to self: Shana may never touch my phone regarding any girl I'm seriously interested in.

I did have some relaxing times sitting out by the pool, enjoying the sunlight, and/or reading Gilligan's Wake. My dad called to warn me not to give into temptation since Las Vegas is a very tempting city. Don't worry, Dad, the place disgusted me.

The highlight of the weekend was seeing the Pogues and Against Me!, even though the show was overpriced and at the House of Blues. I ended up meeting some skins from Chicago, and making fast friends with some punk kids from L.A. and some Vegas skins as well. But a ton of dancing, not a real heavy crowd, awesome music with group singalongs; just a very classic show. I was asking the Vegas guys if there was any good place to get a beer in town, and they said it sucked, it was all touristy shit. Wow, even the locals can't recommend a good bar.

After the show I was so thirsty I ended up drinking out of the sink at the Mandalay Bay, which houses the House of Blues, and walking the two-and-a-half miles up the strip back to my hotel and collapsing. Sunday was all-you-can-eat buffet brunch at the Bellagio, then a hellacious wait at the fucktarded Vegas airport security only to find another delayed flight. I got home late and spent today yawning and wishing for a nap.