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."