It’s kind of relaxing, cathartic, almost Zen-like

For my 6th birthday I got the Return of the Jedi AT-AT toy/vehicle/playset. Along with the Millennium Falcon which entered my possession at one point and the X-wing I got when I was three or four, and the few action figures I had - the first being C-3PO and R2-D2, which I remember receiving in the car while dropping my dad off at his bus stop (or maybe picking him up) one day. I think I was three. I don't think my parents realized my simultaneous excitement for having *Star Wars* action figures and disappointment for not really wanting those two. I wanted something cool, like Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had a cape and lightsaber that retracted into his arm, or Darth Vader, who had a cape and lightsaber that retracted into his arm. Thats what I knew from seeing Paul's action figures, and damnit! I wanted that too!

I remember the AT-AT, how by the time I outgrew it, it had no more cargo door, the motorized guns didn't work, the cockpit had lost its cover, and it was pretty trashed. I used to cram all my Star Wars toys into that one big AT-AT box.

This evening I started building the Lego AT-AT I bought a year ago. It's kind of relaxing, cathartic, almost Zen-like. I say almost because it can get a little frustrating when I'm looking for one piece for 15 minutes.

Laura called from Madison and we talked for over an hour and a half. Actually, I think she did most of the talking, since I was tired and distracted. She brought up how Marta told her I had Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. Sure do! Not ashamed of that one bit. She's coming to the city this weekend for the Deal's and Tossers shows and might be crashing my couch one of those nights.

I spent almost $200 today, so I decided to forego Delilah's and the Bottle tonight in favor of not spending money and starting the semester off reasonably rested. But I have nice new tires on my bike, a good repair kit ready to go, and some other stuff I needed and expect to last a good long while. I did get the shower and windowsills cleaned. Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub away! I was actually just finishing the last bit of that when Laura called.

I'm listening to the "Unsound" comp. Fortunately Epitaph figured out not to call it "Punk-O-Rama" when it's mostly poppy shit and an insult to punk rock, but unfortunately that's because Epitaph is not really putting out punk rock anymore. There is some on here, including the Draft (yay!) but not much new stuff. It's pretty much from established Epitaph bands like Pennywise, Bad Religion and the Bouncing Souls. That's it, actually, aside from the Draft and Some Girls. It looks like there might be a few good hip-hop songs on here, too. I'm ten songs in and the best song so far is by some indie-pop band called Youth Group, whose album I didn't like much.

I need to shear myself. But first some stolen words from Poetry magazine:

More Foolish Things Remind Me of You by XJ Kennedy

Theses on archetypes in rapsters' lyrics,
Menus describing hash in panegyrics,
Cheap vases aping Mings -
Pretentious things
Remind me of you.
Loud slurping noises from the next apartment,
A critic's lecture on what Hitler's art meant,
Dead snakes the tomcat brings -
Disquieting things
Remind me of you.

You came, swell dame, swooped down on me.
Like Visigoths you looted me,
You burnt me down, then booted me.

Lines sliced to little bits by deconstruction,
Loose gobs of fat removed by liposuction,
Toys after children's play -
Sheer disarray
Reminds me of you.
A sculped Discobolus with penis missing,
Forgotten novelists, Surtees or Gissing,
Leftovers growing mold -
Everything old
Reminds me of you.

By God, how odd to call to mind
Those tortures that you tried on me,
How, least of all, you lied to me.

Cheeseburgers gussied up with shrimps and chili,
Victorian bathing gowns, a gilded lily,
Fingers with monster rings -
Overdressed things
Remind me of you.
Fallacious arguments, a dozen doughnuts,
Car windows shot to hell when policemen go nuts,
Suburban lawns with moles,
Things full of holes
Remind me of you.

Fucking fucks.

Those fucking fighter jets are still buzzing my house. Fuckers. Fucking Air and Water Show. Fuck that shit.

Fuck it. I'm going outside to put new tires on my bike.

Boring days and stolen poetry

I had great food at Mirani's last night. Kaveh wouldn't let me pay so I plopped down a twenty-dollar tip. I did manage to get the credit card all done but then he voided the sale.

WNUR went well. Plenty of rocking out to good music, but what else do you do when alone for three hours in the control room? The main speakers are screwy when you turn them too loud, though.

There are some errands I need to run today that I just didn't get to yesterday. At least my apartment is looking even cleaner. I don't think it's ever been this clean. Still a hair messy, but that's just a few papers and CDs.

And now for a little copyright infringement, courtesy of Poetry Magazine:

What Humans Do by Wendy Videlock

The candlelit
after-dinner
careful screw,

the under-the-moon
shooby doo
be doo groove,

the from behind,
the sixty-nine,
the is there time,

the I need wine,
the twisted talking
dirty grind,

the Erica Jong
zipless screw,
the I-got-somethin'-

to-prove ruse,
the primal bang,
the power game,

the long play,
the itchy-ish, sudden-ish
roll in the hay,

the take me away,
the once a month
married way,

the hail mary,
the holy-joe-
I-can't-believe-

my-luck hump,
the side to side
slow pump,

the grudge fuck,
the quick poke,
the hard core,

the tenderest lap
of waves on the shore,
and the gushing rushing

endless coming
of I've never felt
this way before.