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.

Deciphering my drunken writing in a notebook from Las Vegas

I am plastered right now.

Darren + open bar = fucked up.

I ate and drank so much that even though it's been 2+ hours since my last drink I'm getting more and more drunk. I'm even slurring words in the notebook I'm writing this in.

I guess it's a sign of recovery when I start hiccupping the words...now they're coming fast and furious.

Anyway: Vegas. Tourists. Fat, lazy American tourists, or so it seems. I tried walking down the strip a little bit today to get a feel for the city, but I just wanted to smack all the fat lazy people standing around gawking at all the blatantly obvious tourist shit. Oh, look! A man-made volcano! Big fucking deal. Same with the pirate ship and the rest of that shit.

And gambling. Fuck!

It's like investing in something with zero percent return. Fucking A! Unless you've developed the poker skills, you're a fucking sucker.

Anyway, I'm really fucked up right now. Concentrating-on-not-puking fucked up. The problem here is that the tap water tastes like chlorinated shit and won't make me feel any better.

Derek and Anoki and I were in some club and I only ordered water and they gave me a $5 bottle! Fuckin' ripoff. Yet, if I [illegible] drinking tap water now I'll be praying to the toilet all night. Now, due to my own self-induced inebriation, I have to stay awake LONGER just to keep the nausea at bay.

Shana tonight took my cell phone and started texting Amber with all sorts of shit that made me look like a lech. I guess she was right; if Amber were really interested, she'd have been at the wax-museum event, and if not who cares how stupid I seem?

I've had bile in my throat at least three times tonight. Hopefully I can hold everything down long enough to go to sleep.

Sunlight can do wonderful things for my mood.

I was walking home from the bike shop (routine maintenance this time, thankfully) and it was sunny and windy and cold, and I thought to myself how relaxing it was to just walk and listen to music without a huge amount of time pressure to be anywhere or just do something.

Last night I was talking with Dana in her lab, and she brought up how lucky I was that I love my career. Which is true. I may be draining myself out now with school, and have no life or anything, but it's an investment in my future. I have goals and a vision for my life, and my work actually helps people and gives me some purpose, so I do have something.

Anyway, this weekend will be purely relaxation and just a little bit of learning, so hopefully my mind and body return to Chicago refreshed.

Empty life

Trish called me today to talk and say hi...and I really had nothing to tell her. Not that I didn't want to talk to her, I just had nothing to talk about. My life is really that empty, I realized. It's all school and music, and really, most people don't give two shits about either. I mean, half the time when I go out with people I feel like I was invited as an afterthought or out of pity.

I wonder how bad things will have to get before I get over my shyness and get proactive about making new friends.

$67 is the most I've ever paid for a show by about $40 or so.

I'm getting psyched for my trip to Vegas this weekend...I mean, free four-star hotel, some possibly interesting educational opportunities (NO, I am not talking about prostitution!) and a great show.

So far it's cost me $299 for the airline tix and $67 to see the Pogues and Against Me! on Saturday night. Ticketbastard added something like $12 in fees to a "$52" ticket (House of Blueshit added another $3 "facility charge"). I believe that's worthy of being called financial ass-rape. I'm gonna try and flow as much free food from the conference as I can. Hopefully I can avoid the over-priced club alcohol. Free reception at Madam Tussaud's Friday night, though, so that should fill me up.

I"m fucking excited. The next month is going to be crazy show-wise:
The Pogues/Against Me!
The Falcon/The Copyrights
The Bouncing Souls/The Street Dogs/The World/Inferno Friendship Society
Lucero
The Lawrence Arms
Heavens

I may not have any voice left by Thanksgiving. Rock on.

Anyway, I've got to plan on doing some laundry and cutting my hair before I take off on Thursday. I finally feel like I'm getting handle on my thesis, though, which is nice. I ate a free half-chicken for dinner tonight. It's no wonder I've gained weight.

Jesus helps me trick people.

Laura stayed on my couch after WNUR last night, and was already gone for Mad City by the time I woke up this morning.

After pissing half the day away looking up stuff for my Vegas trip next weekend and looking into records I've wanted to get, and then indulging in some music piracy, I headed off to school.

I discovered another 15-20 research articles I'd filed to be read, so I read some of those, and put some into the circular file. I shot the shit with Chris and Ryan too, and ate a dinner that was probably twice as big as it should have been.

This weekend was pretty good, especially considering the inauspicious start Friday night. It was the first time in a month that I've gotten around to blacking my nails, and it was kinda depressing to take it off tonight. I got to dress pretty light this weekend too, thanks to the Indian summer we've been having here in Chi. The bike jersey I wore yesterday was pretty comfortable and looks odd enough that I'm tempted to get more, but I bet they cost a pretty penny. Today I broke out the camo shorts again, plus a baby-blue T-shirt stating "Jesus helps me trick people." - perfect Sunday apparel.

The new record from The Draft is pretty good, but not great. It's like the continuation of Hot Water Music's decline.

No patients tomorrow, just a ton of boring lecture.

The crust of salt on my skin tells me that the clothes I'm wearing would be best aired out, or even better, washed.

Today's riding almost made up for last night's missed riding. If it were longer with a large group of friendly people it would've been fantastic.

After a long drugged-out sleep, I got up and rode up to the Irish American Heritage Center off Lawrence and Elston to sit in on Laura's class. It was pretty fun. I don't think there's an Iranian-American center like that in Chicago - it would be cool to get more in touch with my ethnic roots. The American rural Christian life of my mother's side I think I've had enough of, however.

Anyway, I rode the 7.5 miles up there, had a decent free lunch, sat in on the class and learned something, talked with Laura a bit, then rode the 9 miles to school to do some labwork and get some reading done.

A productive day here at UIC: I got my unit ready for Monday morning inspection, treatment-planned a case, and finished reading the papers I had out for my thesis. Tomorrow I plan to start putting together either criteria or questions for my surveys and formalizing my protocol...I also need to start filling out the IRB forms, I suppose.

Laura's coming to NUR tonight, as well as some new faces, so that should be fun. Right now I need to ride home and shower and change, as I've gotten pretty ripe with all the riding. I've also got a keen new bike jersey I got as a thank you for presenting to the Odontographic Society (they were leftover from a few years ago). If it weren't so rank, I'd wear it the rest of the night, but the crust of salt on my skin tells me that the clothes I'm wearing would be best aired out, or even better, washed.

In the meantime, ruminate on the irony: the actress playing Mary in the Nativity movie is 16, unwed, and pregnant.

Is there an optimistic turn on the horizon?

Right now I'm sitting in the dark, listening to the old MP3 player (and I mean the old one, not the new one; the old one I save only to plug into the various stereos in my house for random home-made radio stylee) and recovering from the drunk I got myself on. The only chilled drink I had was Irish cream, and I drank most of a medium size bottle while watching a cheesy action comedy I borrowed from Mike last weekend.

That's me when bored and depressed: opiating myself with alcohol and television. The American way. How pathetic.

Eleven to your seven, yeah.

After watching the movie, I lay down on my kitchen floor, watching the full moon with the lights off until I either sobered up or dozed off. I think I did more sobering up than dozing off. As often happens when I'm feeling depressed and lonely, my thoughts turned to my ex-girlfriend. Yeah, I know it's been almost two years since we broke up, but it was my first time really being in love, so there's still some latent emotional sewage to wade through. Overall, I think I've made progress. And for more on that topic, you'll have to find a copy of my zine when it comes out, as soon as I get my shit together and finish it.

Yeah, so I've got a bunch of great ideas. I'm drunk enough still that I feel optimistic enough that if I write tonight it'll be an accomplishment. I'm also at the stage where I don't give enough of a shit, and if I'm not about to pass out at the end of my writing bout, I think I'll put a new inner tube on my bike and go for a ride somewhere. I'm not sure where. At least an hour or so, maybe exploring the north side.

Who the fuck knows where this night will lead?! Drunken romantic reminiscence followed by rambling music-driven bicycling! All on an empty stomach and a bottle of Irish cream! What an exciting life I lead!

I'd trade it all for a friend to sit on my couch and talk with me.

The Broadways, "Rainy Day":

You've been down for so long
The world can really do that to a kid
But you can't dwell on that shit
Gotta make the world the best you can
But there's not reason for crying
Whoa-oh, keep on trying
Drink everyday to make the pain feel like it wasn't really there
Kill dreams in front of TVs
That is just what they love to hear
Maybe sometime...I will get off this fucking couch
I won't let this world drag me down
Kids like you and me will be free
Maybe sometime I won't have to wake up
And see another rainy day
A boring afternoon
There's no prize at the end of this rainbow
No one to love
No one to talk to
So I'm gonna grab my umbrella and run outside
No rain's gonna drown my ambition
Gonna make it this time

I want to cry and throw things

I was all keyed up to go on the Oak Park-Evanston Meet-Up Mass tonight, and I get out of school and I have a flat fucking tire. By the time I got it patched, there was no way I'd be able to get home, put on a new tube and get out to Oak Park on time. Dumb fucking luck.

Right now I want to cry and throw things. The weather is so great for a bike ride, but I'm too fucking demoralized to care anymore. I might get together with Tara later, but I don't hold high hopes for that. Everyone else is busy.

Have a great fucking weekend. Choke on your plans.

The October Fifth Roundup

It was a busy day today. I feel like I really got a lot done, but at the same time realized how much more I have to learn in some areas. I did some new things and some straightforward things. Clinically, educationally, it was a good day.

Tomorrow we have an all-day lecture from a well-respected gnathologist. Or, as Schneider calls them, Goddamn gnathologists! So I plan on bringing some research reading to do. Or something. I figure I'll get sick of this guy's BS rather quickly.

I decided to go on the Oak Park-Evanston Meet-Up Mass tomorrow night. Which means a 7.5-mile bike ride out to OP and then a rambling 15-mile ride back to downtown Chi and then out to the Billy Goat a mile from my house. Cheezborger, Pepsi No Coke!

After my evening lecture and clean-up and then dinner tonight, I was too worn out to do anything. I really have trouble getting back into that work groove. I slept 8 hours last night and it was wonderful!...I still fell asleep in my 8am lecture today. Tonight I'm going to crash out early as soon as I'm done writing this. Well, I'll shower and clean myself a bit first.

Riding around the city I've seen many many beautiful sights. Or photogenic ones, anyway. I wished I had my camera. Sometimes I think I've been influenced too much by commercial images, though. Well, I still think my photos are cool, and I've gotten good feedback on some of my stuff that I think is hackneyed.

Some good spots, for when I find the time to carry a camera and tripod on the bike:

• Halsted crossing the north branch: great view of the downtown skyline with old steel bridge and industrial areas in the foreground. At night.
  
• Division on the Goose Island crossing: another great industrial foreground with famous skyline backdrop, just look down any cross-street. At dusk.
  
• Off my front porch at night. I was sitting out there tonight after my ride home and it was lit so serenely. It was great. It would take some playing with the camera settings to capture it, but it was so clear and oddly contrasted it was beautiful.

Sushi Tuesday!

Today was a good day. Clinically straight-forward appointments, followed by S-U-S-H-I sushi! Sixteen of us took over half of Sushi Para and proceeded to demolish their all-you-can-eat BYOB offering.

The six miles of riding was also pretty nice. It wasn't really enough to get me really worn, but it did work up a nice sweat. The peach Bicardis were pretty sweet, too.

I also apparently have the ability to drive girls wild with my wink. Too bad I don't have the ability to write for shit.

Fuck this post.

The last week or two I've been totally exhausted. Bone tired. I'm having one of my bouts of self-disgust, too, since I've been rather unproductive and too self-indulgent for my own good. High-calorie shit diet, minimal work done, shit piling up, bleh. I can't even think of anything worthwhile to write here.

The only high point the last few days has been totally wearing myself out biking, and tonight I can't even do that thanks to the raging thunderstorm that started on my way home from school.

Tomorrow night I'm having a ton of sushi, at least, so that'll feel good. I think I need sleep and a lack of distraction. I still have three movies left that I borrowed from Mike last night, so eventually I'll be done with this little phase and get back to life.

I hate my TV in a way that I can never express. I am too easily wooed back.

"Thanks for ruining the picture."

At the beginning of August, I went to a conference for orthodontic residents in Ann Arbor, MI. They took a group photo, after making us move back and forth five or ten times. I don't know why the photographer couldn't just move over.

I got sick of it quick:

Don't sit too close to the TV - it'll rot your brain.

I borrowed a bunch of movies from John last weekend, and I've watched them all already. Not that it was a waste of time, but the ease with which I ignored other responsibilities to accomplish this TV watching was scary. It's really a piece of good luck that my VCR conked out on me last spring. The time is much better spent reading or writing or riding.

Being the total aging emo kid that I am, I ended up watching several romantic comedies. The tear-jerkers. It's been a long time since I've watched a romantic movie - or any movie, for that matter - with someone to cuddle with.

I know it's lame to admit to feeling lonely, but sometimes I feel like my whole life consists of dentistry and underground music. I have trouble finding time to really get together with friends (note that I still had time to watch six movies) or even sleep enough, so I don't know how much of this is my fault.