Sympathetic Response

Why I (Still) Love Paul Krugman

2009-02-09T11:39:00.001-06:00

Just go read it: "Wingnuts, Wingnuts, Everywhere."

Beating on Obama...

2009-02-09T11:25:00.004-06:00

I got into a little verbal kerfuffle with some friends on Facebook the other week over one of them becoming a fan of Barack Obama for President in 2012. My point was that his "post-partisan-bridge-the-divide" ideology is going to be counterproductive and ineffective.

In his column in today's New York Times, Paul Krugman writes regarding Obama and the inadequate stimulus:

So has Mr. Obama learned from this experience? Early indications aren’t good.

For rather than acknowledge the failure of his political strategy and the damage to his economic strategy, the president tried to put a postpartisan happy face on the whole thing. “Democrats and Republicans came together in the Senate and responded appropriately to the urgency this moment demands,” he declared on Saturday, and “the scale and scope of this plan is right.”

No, they didn’t, and no, it isn’t.

Scary Deja Vu...

2009-02-05T19:34:00.003-06:00

I seem to be alone in my social circle for reading lots about the economy, even before this current recession started over a year ago. None of them seem to talk about it much. The orthodontists mention slower business, but none of them seem to follow current events, like the evolution (and devolution) of the stimulus package in front of the Senate right now.

Yesterday, Obama announced a salary cap of $500,000 for select executives in firms receiving federal bailout money from TARP. Good. The whole thing is fucked, and it's becoming more so.

While Paul Krugman is still my favorite to read, in part because he often has specific policy prescriptions as well as critique, Ryan at The Bellows and, to a lesser extent, Dean Baker do a pretty good job describing my concerns, and venting my frustration, and more frequently, too. And everyday Mark Thoma seems to point me at something interesting enough to keep me from unsubscribing from his RSS feed.

Tim Duy (via Economist's View):

I have run the gamut from dismay to anger to my current emotion, supreme disappointment. There were really only two glimmers of hope that the US could avoid a Japan-like multi-year stagnation. One was the offsetting effect of a strong global economy. Of course, we all know how that story ended. Poorly. The other was my certainty that US policymakers like NEC head Lawrence Summers and Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner had studied the Japanese crisis up and down and realized that you needed to meet a banking crisis head-on, not with halfway measures that left the system crippled.

But today, reading CNBC’s coverage of the plan, it becomes painfully clear that we are headed full speed on a policy bullet train designed to repeat Japan’s errors.

........

Classic. Absolutely classic. Is this really addressing the problem of pricing? Are we not in the same boat of “if we pay too little, the bank is undercapitalized, but if we pay too much, the taxpayer holds the bag and therefore we need to nationalize”? Obviously we are in the same boat, because the new plan may cause an “accounting problem.” Like insolvency. That is, in fact, a problem, no argument from me. Apparently, though, the Administration’s solution is a suspension of accounting rules. Translation – we are going to try to hide the problem.
As if investors won’t see through that mirage because all of you traders are clearly slow witted. Again, Bank of America already plumbing the depths…
Why are we here? Why, months after TARP, are we still not willing to dig down in the balance sheets of troubled banks and disgorge the questionable assets once and for all? Why, with a new Administration, supposedly unfettered from the ideological positions of the last Administration?

The whole thing is definitely worth reading. One more reason I've been disenchanted with Obama (and his party) since before he was sworn in.

Look, the banks which way, way, WAY, overleveraged themselves need to be nationalized. They're already bankrupt, they just haven't admitted it yet. That's what happened with the S&L crisis here in the US, and it's what Sweden did as well. There are all these real-world recent history examples that no one in charge is paying attention to. It's just fucking us all over, and it's bad politics, to boot. If this recession drags on significantly, the party in power is gonna get reamed but good even by the idiot obstructionist party currently in opposition.

Feh.

Back with a Meme

2008-12-13T12:27:00.003-06:00

I know I hardly post to this anymore, and I've been thinking of maybe starting back up if I can reboot my literary side...

Anyway, my friend Chris posted this meme on Facebook, and while I normally never do these, I thought this one would be interesting: "Put your MP3 library (iPod, iTunes, etc.) on shuffle. Answer each question with consecutive song titles."

1) IF SOMEONE SAYS, "IS THIS OKAY?" YOU SAY...
Get Out of My House (The Business)
2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Ed Is Sexy (Against Me!)
3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Jean and Dinah (Mighty Sparrow)
4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Protex Blue (The Clash)
5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Close to Me (The Cure)
6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
The Ronald Miller Story (Kid Dynamite)
7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Raise Your Glass (The Planet Smashers)
8) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
We Are No Longer Fighting (The Siren Six!)
9) WHAT IS 2+2?
Conspiracy Against the Youth (The Dingees)
10) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Barroom Hero (Dropkick Murphys)
11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Vacation (Cub)
12) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Justin (Against Me!)
13) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Temporary Trip (The Mighty Mighty Bosstones)
14) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
A Jacknife to a Swan (The Mighty Mighty Bosstones)
15) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World (Israel Kamakawiwo'ole)
16) WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Saving Sorries (Let's Go Bowling)
17) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Stack O Lee (Prince Buster and the Trojans)
18) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
We Don't Need You (Against All Authority)
19) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Dish or Die (The Parka Kings)
20) WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Racing The Train (Angry Johnny and the Killbillies)
21) HOW WILL YOU DIE?
It Mek (Desmond Dekker)
22) WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
She Just Won't Do (Winepress)
23) WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Pass You By (Skankin' Pickle)
24) WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
What I Like About You (The Suicide Machines)
25) WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
For the First Time (Westbound Train)
26) WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Suckerpunch (Five Iron Frenzy)
27) DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Together As One (Los Furios)
28) AFTER YOU ARE DEAD, WHAT WILL YOU BE REMEMBERED FOR?
Born and Raised (Fake Problems)
29) WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Beer (Mustard Plug)

This was also an excuse to listen to a bunch of random songs that I already know I think highly of rather than work through the backlog of music on my hard drive that needs to be deleted or burned to CD while I finish reading the Pharyngula archives.

Now I'll probably play most of these songs on WNUR tonight. Especially since so many of them turned out to be classics, modern classics, or covers of classics. Funny how out of close to 7,000 songs in my MP3 library, I got two songs each from Against Me! and the Bosstones, though.

I'm very unique...

2008-10-09T18:32:00.001-05:00

HowManyOfMe.com

There are
1
or fewer people with my name in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

I left my Vespa in Toledo, Ohio with the best girlfriend ever...

2008-09-15T16:39:00.003-05:00

...and have to go pick it up later this week.

I got back to Chicago from Ohio last night at about 10:30...by car.

I rode out to Toledo through northern Indiana (which has some horrible signage, so I probably went out of my way by 20 miles or so during the trip - 250 miles total). Mapquest put me on a gravel road, but I knew US 20 was only a mile or two north and heading in the same direction, so I was able to cut up there.

The P200 ran great most of the way out, though the engine started to rattle at certain speeds (real low or real high). It sounds to me like the flywheel cover might be rattling against something. Every bolt I could find was tight, though, and the bike was riding fine, so I didn't worry too much about it. As I got near Toledo, I was running low on gas and the bike started to bog a little bit at the top of 4th gear.

Friday morning I cleaned my jets and checked my plug (little bit dark, but I left the mixture alone at that point). Selena and I rode from Toledo down to Columbus in a heavy drizzle most of the way. The bike really started bogging in 4th, so I changed to a #7 plug and turned the mixture a quarter-turn leaner and it ran pretty well despite the wet. Idle was screwy, though.

Saturday in Columbus was sunny, hot, and muggy. All the hot humid air east of Hurricane Ike was trapped and it got a bit oppressive. One of my gear selector cables slipped right as we arrived for the ride meetup, so while I was tightening the pinch-bolt and adjusting the cables, we missed the ride, but ended up going thrifting with some of the XYLs there for the rally. (But since we'd ridden down through the area the ride was going to the day before, and were going out that way the next day, we didn't mind, and ended up hanging out with Selena's sister). My bike would only idle regularly when it was running rich (on a #7 plug), though I'm not sure how much that had to do with the humidity. To get it to run nicely, I had to turn the mixture a little leaner and set the throttle stop pretty high so it wouldn't die out at idle - otherwise it would bog at 45-50mph even after warmed up.

I was originally planning on riding back to Chicago yesterday from Columbus, but one look at the radar map yesterday morning disabused me of that notion. Selena and I left to ride back toward Toledo, and I'd either catch MegaBus or cadge a ride back to Chicago from there. It was still pretty warm and sunny, but with some moderate wind once we got out into the country which varied from a nice tail wind to a somewhat annoying cross-wind. We were keeping an eye on the western horizon to stop to put on rain-gear if needed.

About an hour outside Toledo, Selena's bike (a 2005 Stella) broke down. We were about 120 miles out of Columbus, and had been going full throttle most of the way. She suddenly started losing power at 45-50mph and was able to downshift and pull over in a controlled stop, but her kick lever was frozen solid. After letting it sit for an hour or so, it still wouldn't budge, she couldn't shift gears, and we found a nice farmer to let her put it in his barn for a couple
days (the state trooper that pulled up behind us a couple min after we stopped walked her to his door and vouched for him) until she can pick it up.

We ended up riding 2-up on my P200 at 40mph back to Toledo right as the pouring rain started, with all the gear two people bring on scooter trips, then driving to Chicago (and hitting some rain in Indiana). Selena drove back this morning, and I'm taking Megabus out later this week and riding back on Friday, which is supposed to be beautiful. POC Phil thinks her bike might have seized but only set after she stopped, but whether it's the top end or kickstart mechanism, the engine's gotta be opened up and she's planning on picking it up and taking it in to POC tomorrow.

Looking around and talking to a couple people, I'm thinking that my 20/20 carb likely needs a thorough cleaning/rebuild, but I might as well put a new 24/24 carb on at that point.

"No, I'm not gonna be your monkey."

2008-07-18T23:13:00.002-05:00

I remember watching this four years ago, and it's still awesome.

I'm glad that emotional residue dissipated.

2008-07-14T01:40:00.003-05:00

I watched Ronin for the first time in several years tonight. I started at 11:30, and now it's almost 2am and I have to get up in six hours to go to work. I took a three-hour nap this evening, catching up from staying up 'til 5am on Friday night talking to Laura's friend Angela. For some reason, I couldn't nap yesterday despite my exhaustion.

So I had some time to kill before sleeping tonight. I remembered Ronin being a good film, but the last time I watched even part of it was with Marta, before we'd even started dating. I think she fell asleep in the middle, and I hadn't watched it since, mostly because it still had this emotional residue for me.

I watched it again. It's better than I remembered. I picked up things I'd missed, or subtleties that hadn't seemed important to me before. Maybe it's because I don't watch many movies or TV shows anymore, and tend to view films not just as stories, but as art with carefully crafted components, each with their own importance. Regardless, I was struck by everything from the clothes, to the cinematography, to the story arc being rather well-done and unique these days.

I'm glad that emotional residue dissipated.

When life hands you lemons, make cantaloupe juice.

2008-07-14T01:31:00.003-05:00

Two years ago this month, my cousin John died. I don't think about it much anymore, though at the time I pretty much escaped into the make-believe world of the Honor Harrington series of books. (You can download all 17 books in the series - I recommend them if you need to kill a couple months.)

The day after the funeral I was at my aunt Susan's house before heading to the airport, and she'd taken all the leftover cantaloupe from the reception and blended it, making a rather thick juice. I don't normally enjoy cantaloupe at all, but for some reason I think it tastes excellent in liquid form, and I drank about a quart of it (approximately eating one melon whole).

That's the one positive thing I took from that trip. Mostly I just remember the heartbreak on my aunt and uncle's faces, particularly when Susan was describing being at his bedside as he died. Tonight I made juice from two cantaloupes, and it brought the memories back.

Para bailar la shut the fuck up!

2008-07-07T12:39:00.001-05:00

There's a techno version of "La Bamba" on at work. Again, here's to my own office where I can play the Richie Valens version instead.

Dreaming is Free...

2008-07-06T10:19:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I dreamt of a first kiss. It was so realistic that I spent 40 minutes trying to relive it as I was falling asleep last night.

In the dream, I made a move not intended to initiate any kiss, then she made as if to kiss me and I turned back and, well, reciprocated. And like any good first kiss, it started with soft lip contact before progressing.

But the best part was the emotional context. The dream delivered all the disbelief and wonder packed into any good first kiss. It's been a long time since I've experienced any of it. No wonder I tried to relive it.

Dreaming is free...

Povichian Voyeurs

2008-06-30T13:28:00.003-05:00

Maury Povich is on at work...the topic is "I was in a coma...I can't be your baby's father!"

Cue the Lawrence Arms:

I'm a clown and I'm choking on blood, tooth and tongue
Fuck the spectators, fuck the "he was so young"
Fuck forced sympathies from lifeless glass eyes
Povichian voyeurs drinking my cries
Fuck-faced trilobytes waiting to die...

Long time, no blogging...

2008-06-23T14:24:00.002-05:00

Three months or more with no blogging, and this is what prompts me to post...

I'm at work right now, second day here in this group dental practice where I'm going to be the orthodontist for one day a week.

Playing on the radio is a techno version of "The Harder They Come."

I'm looking forward to having my own office, where I can have the original Jimmy Cliff version playing.

Uplift...

2008-02-29T21:42:00.003-06:00

She had a great attitude, she was cute, had expressive eyes, and was able to carry a conversation in a way that few others can. She was smart, and smiled a lot. She listens to indie-rock and grindcore, and made fun of hardcore and emo kids. She volunteers at the Art Institute and at a community center. She was seventeen years old, and my last patient of the day. The kind of patient that - even when I'm hungover, at the end of a long, full day, and underslept and exhausted - really makes me love my job.

One of the Funniest Things I've Seen In a Long Time...

2008-02-16T19:02:00.001-06:00

I've watched this several times. Can't stop laughing. Brilliant.

Fuck February

2008-02-16T18:02:00.002-06:00

Fuck February.

Fuck Valentine's Day. Fuck every relationship I've had that ended in February.

Fuck the ennui that starts dogging me after spending so much time inside working on schoolwork. Fuck being tired and fuck perpetual melancholy.

Fuck the virus I seem to come down with every year that knocks me on my ass and takes a while to bounce back from.

Fuck all the schoolwork that's piling up. Fuck the short days that are over by the time I get a chance to do anything.

Fuck the snow and ice that doesn't seem to melt. Today's the first time I've ridden the Vespa in three weeks.

So fuck February. Fuck it.

Eat a Pine Cone and Buy More Shit

2007-12-17T23:13:00.001-06:00

As Paul Krugman pointed out on his blog, he called the housing bubble burst - and, to some extent, the dollar fall - years ago:

Sorry, but no. A housing slowdown will lead to the loss of many jobs in construction and service industries but won't have much direct effect on the trade deficit. So those jobs won't be replaced by new jobs elsewhere until and unless something else, like a plunge in the value of the dollar, makes U.S. goods more competitive on world markets, leading to higher exports and lower imports.

I'm in a bad mood. Pissed at the state of politics in this country, and pissed at myself for being so cranky, and pissed at my mom for sending me more it's-"Merry-Christmas"-not-"Happy-Holidays"-or-you're-disrespecting-Christianity e-mail bullshit and then wondering why I'm upset at what I refer to as "offensive bullshit," as if the annotated 2-page e-mail I sent her in response wasn't clear as to why it could be seen as offensive. A deer in the cultural headlights, as it were.

I said I was in a bad mood. Fucking Christ. I'm finishing off a bottle of wine that's been in my fridge a couple weeks, though, and that's calming me down. Except for the reading of old Krugman columns which just stokes my flames a higher.

Seriously, Fuck Christmas. Let's exchange our gifts at the end of January, when we need some cheering up from seasonal affective disorder, and we can buy gifts for cheap from after-x-mas sales.

In that vein, here's Don's photos from the Dreidel/Santa Rampage. And video. And more video. And yet more video.

Happy Pagan Solstice Festival. Eat a pine cone and buy more shit. Fuck.

Also linked to from Krugman's blog:

2007-11-27T22:49:00.000-06:00

Capitalist shitheads! Fuckin' A!

2007-11-27T21:52:00.000-06:00

Paul Krugman linked to this BusinessWeek story on health care credit companies and their costs to the uninsured. Read it, it's a good article. Even more ridiculous are the several comments accusing fucking *BusinessWeek* of having an anti-capitalist, anti-free-market bias.

That's not Kool-Aid you're drinking anymore, it's pure bullshit. How's it taste?

One commenter made a very good point:

So in this way health care becomes not just a paid for service but a way to create and profit from debt, thus joining the remainder of the economy. The difference being that almost all other spending is discretionary (if perhaps not wise) and its cost is definable and "choosable" prior to the purchase. And, finally, what is most discouraging is that the geniuses who designed this almost certainly consider themselves good people.

The comments on Krugman's post were much better, and seemed more nuanced as well - and hopefully that isn't because they match my prevailing patterns of thought. Still, they begin with this:

The current political leadership told us in 2000:

“Bush is the first CEO president. He will run this country like a business.”

Only in America did people think that was a good thing.

Despite being a health-care provider looking at a career of private practice, I'm becoming even more in favor of universal healthcare. The outcomes are simply better, for every segment of the population, and usually for lower cost. I realize this will likely impact my future practice, but I'd still be making a more than decent living doing work I enjoy and doing good for people. Of course, orthodontics is effectively elective care and as such is unlikely to be covered by any universal plan.

I'm wondering how healthcare providers in countries with universal healthcare are doing within their systems. It's something I'll have to look into.

Meanwhile, I read an argument years ago in an ethics textbook which went something like this - I'm paraphrasing from memory, so be nice: A free society is one in which the personal choices of the largest number of people are maximized to the greatest extent. A person in pain or suffering from a painful or debilitating or otherwise serious medical condition is in many ways incapable of free choice as a starving man or a man with a gun to his head would be. Yes, there are still choices to be made, but if it can be called "free choice" then every society, even the most totalitarian, is "free." In a just society, then, resource allocation would be directed first toward adequately meeting the material needs of the whole population before other discretionary desires were addressed.

Of course, the mechanism by which those needs are met doesn't have to be governmental, but right now charity doesn't seem to be cutting it - especially if you read that BusinessWeek article I linked to above and noted how non-profit hospitals are still selling their patients' medical debts to predatory financial lenders.

All these songs with narratives reinforcing our cultural folkways...

2007-11-10T14:06:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting at school on a Saturday slogging through the data entry for my thesis. My brain is just beginning to sizzle; it's not quite frying yet.

Gary's sitting in the lab doing some work as well. I asked if he minded if I put on some music; he said no, as long as it's country. Couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I said OK and put on a playlist of (mostly) country songs, because I like a lot of that shit.

The whole reason I noted that is because I've been listening to all these songs with narratives reinforcing our cultural folkways, and I'm wondering how much of my enjoyment of derives from their resulting position in our sociocultural matrix and how much derives from the inherent worth of their musicality and lyricism.

This week was good professionally: I've hit what I hope is the magic number of responses required for my thesis, and finally worked out with my advisors what statistical analysis we're going to use - which is why I'm powering through data entry at the moment. My least favorite patient told me she absolutely has to have her braces off by March, no matter what, so I know she'll be done then. And I got a lead on at least a part-time job for next year, who I have to call on Monday. So that's some shit off my chest.

You should get to know your town, just like I know mine

2007-11-05T22:28:00.000-06:00

The Magnificent Seven SC's City of the Dead Photo Scavenger Hunt was a success! It was a gorgeous day, sunny with a forecasted high near 60 F. Which is awesome for November in Chicago!

People started arriving at the Pontiac a little before 11am. After a bit of chit-chat and after a few attendees had a few bloody marys, I started passing out clue sheets. Nick commented that it was too easy to make collages like that on the computer now, but acknowledged that they don't look the same or have the soul of a cut-and-paste, copy-and-destroy job.

All said, though, it was kind of a pain doing all that cutting and pasting; I'm done doing ride promo and fliers for a while.

Anyway, being scooterists, our 11:30am start time went to pot pretty quickly. At half past eleven, we started our random pairings. Patrick picked up some cheapo chopsticks and numbered them; they were drawn and that was how your teammate was chosen! Everyone seemed to get along though, so no problems. Of course, Josh the Cop was running late, and held everyone up until he got there at noon. Two more guys showed up in the meantime, but of course they both pulled matching numbers, so Brian was stuck waiting for Josh (and I held everyone else from starting to make it fair). Nick and John had come by but ended up not participating. Kyle also pulled over in his VW van to say hi, but he was headed out to the 'burbs for domestic tasks. Everyone else there was going crazy figuring out clues. Except for Rich, that is; he read the clue sheet and stated he knew where they all were. The others were all feeding their internet addictions on their DiCKPhones and Crackberries, or in Nick and Chandler's cases, their laptops. Ben made phone calls. Sid and Dan had their maps and atlases.

Like I said, I let everyone go at the same time. They had seven sites around Chicago, from Rogers Park to Hyde Park (way north to way south, with some west side thrown in for kicks) to visit and photograph with both bikes from each team. Some of them tore off north, some of them south. Some of them sat at the Pontiac and worked on their route for a while. In fact, Sid and Dan (and Dan's wife Jane) were still sitting there when Millie, Durso, and Silent Ron rolled up at quarter past twelve. Apparently, Millie'd broken down and was riding 2-up with Durso, so Team Maryland was able to compete together despite our rules and random team assignments - although I suppose having to ride 2-up on Dursos 125cc smallframe was somewhat of a handicap.

Sid and Dan took off shortly after that, while Team Maryland worked out clues and Silent Ron commiserated. I think they finally left at 12:30. At which point Patrick and I, as the organizers and planners unable to compete, went for eats at Dunlay's on the Square in Logan Square along with my friend Nikki. Good eats. We dropped Nikki off at the Humboldt Park Fieldhouse and proceeded to the Garfield Conservatory to hang a bit and see which teams stopped by.

Before I proceed further, I should tell you which sites our seven clues referred to, in chronological order:

Rosehill Cemetery
Union Stockyards Entrance Arch
Finkl & Sons Steel
Garfield Conservatory
Biograph Theater
Chess Records Office and Studio
Henry Moore's "Nuclear Energy" sculpture at the site of the first self-sustaining controlled nuclear reaction

Patrick and I hung out at the Conservatory for a bit, and saw Sid and Dan ride by south of Lake Ave, coming from the Garfield Park Fieldhouse, and head east. A couple minutes later they came back west and found us sitting in front of the conservatory. Apparently Dan had been shot by some douchebags with a paintball gun while riding through the west side. He was not a happy camper. They told us they had to hit Rosehill and then they were done. Patrick and I were surprised, as it was only a quarter past two at this point.

A couple minutes after they stopped by, Brian and Josh the Cop showed up. This was their last site. They got their pictures, and headed back to the Pontiac. Patrick and I left almost as quickly, but took a different route back; we jammed down Lake Street - AKA the Death Star - with only a little weaving amongst the pillars when necessary to pass. Brian and Josh still beat us back to the Pontiac - we were a block or two away when I saw Brian's Zuma pulled into the lot.

We rolled up a few seconds later, and there's Todd with a half-drunk bloody in his hand, smiling like a tow-headed devil. He and Rich and Amy had gotten back a while before, apparently. Amy showed me their photos, and I declared them the winner and relieved myself of banking the ride's winnings. $65 to the winning team, and $10 to Brian and Josh, setting them even for the day - minus gas and beer money. (Brian and Josh the Cop were running red lights all day, and Josh even tried to get a squad car for escort - to no avail. They still came in first loser.) Ben and Chandler - Team Stella - rolled up soon after, and the rest of the teams came trickling in after that. I think the motorcycle guys were 5th or 6th to arrive, after Tim and Stephanie. Team Silent Ron and Maryland showed up soon after, and we were hanging out front of the Pontiac waiting for our stragglers.

Sid finally pulled up, followed closely by Katherine on her Stella, and Dan and Jane were a couple minutes behind. We ended up shootin' it until the sun set near 4:30 - damn Daylight Savings Time ending is messing me up. Everyone said no when I suggested going for a group ride, but fun was had by all.

UPDATE: So, a few people took some wrong turns - Josh and Brian went to Graceland instead of Rosehill, and the motorcycle team went to UIC instead of U of C to find Henry Moore's "Nuclear Energy." And Chandler dropped his camera on Michigan Ave. and Team Stella had to backtrack to get it. And some team I can't remember went to the Apollo Theater instead of Chess Records.

Next time, I'm not planning at all. I wanted to ride!

Pictures are available on my Flickr and at the Mag 7's Flickr.

Fucking Media Monopolies

2007-11-04T22:40:00.000-06:00

So, the videos I posted in my last post have been deleted from YouTube, due to Viacom's claim of copyright infringement.

Now, while technically accurate, the decision is marketing idiocy. Without any sort of viral video presence as in those two clips, would Yo Gabba Gabba's audience demographic expand in that direction at all? Is there a huge overlap between YouTube users and Nick Jr. viewers? I don't think so.

What it is is corporate media producers defending their right to total information control. It's not this instance that scares them, but the precedent of any of their material being used for any reason not sanctioned prior to its use.

Anyway, they've been put back up on YouTube, go there and search for "Yo Gabba Gabba Pick It Up" and "Yo Gabba Gabba Aggrolites" and you should find your treat.

Hands down the best kids show ever!

2007-10-27T20:20:00.000-05:00

Yo Gabba Gabba! is officially the best kids show ever. How come there was never anything this cool on when I was a kid?

Oh, yeah. It was the late seventies/early eighties.

As Sid pointed out: note the Vespa and the skinhead train. I don't think he said anything about the Mod Target or the English Beat imagery. Now if only the sax player in the dresser band were a pickle rather than a banana.

Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!

And speaking of bananas, here's the Aggrolites, on the same show!

Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!

As if I needed another reason to hate the Republican party

2007-10-22T23:17:00.000-05:00

I'm still exhausted from riding Wisconsin's Rustic Roads yesterday,or I'd write about it.

Meanwhile, watch this:

Worth sitting through. Naomi Wolf is an engaging speaker. Beware, though, it's 40+ minutes long.

The First Annual Less-Than-Honorable Jimmy Chamberlain Pumpkin Run!

2007-10-07T22:25:00.000-05:00

Holy shit, it's been a while since I posted anything here. I guess right now I actually feel I have something worthy of contributing...

I guess since my last post, 5+ weeks ago, I've been much busier with the scootering - and the bicycling, too, but that's not what this post is about...

Today was the The First Annual Less-Than-Honorable Jimmy Chamberlain Pumpkin Run, the first public ride of the nascent scooter club I'm in, The Magnificent Seven SC. There are way more than seven of us, too.

Anyway, we met up at the Depot Diner out on the west side, had some hearty breakfast food and then mounted up for a rambling 40-mile route in the eighty-something degree October Chicago heat.

Bungee-tastic fun! And I couldn't fucking resist...

Ben went a different route (most people just duct-taped the fucking thing to their leg-shields) with packing foam support. I'm still not sure what the saran wrap was about.

Ride on! Chicago-bound!

Jay with the triple-threat!

Hurry up and get gas, losers!

Sorry my fingers got caught up there.

Durso (not pictured, unfortunately) ended up winning with a 41-pounder. Mike, with the Honda Elite shown above, came in second place - first loser! - with 35 pounds. Millie (also not pictured) and I tied with 32 pounds each - although my second pumpkin, also brought back according to the rules, brought me up to 56 pounds.

Anyway, we ended up back at the Ranch - AKA Patrick's garage - for pizza, beer, and chit-chat. I stopped by Delilah's on the way home, and coming out of the bathroom, I found the perfect accessory sitting on my barstool. I swear to god I have no fucking clue where it came from!

Balls to the wall, baby! Next week we're planning to knock out Wisconsin's Rustic Roads Awards Program and earn ourselves some patches. Yesterday I paid over $150 for a gorilla suit. I think it needs some use. And that gourd and brassiere are not coming off until they rot off.

Oh, I'm spinning punk rock night at Delilah's on October 29th. Come on out and say hi, I'll give you some candy.

It's better with subtitles...

2007-08-28T12:29:00.000-05:00

Life, or Something Like It

2007-08-23T23:44:00.001-05:00

I got caught in the rain on my ride home from work. Onto the Vespa, around the gate and out into the dry street. Within a mile, BOOM - it starts pouring. It looked like a fucking movie.

It was a long day.

And with scooters on my mind: The last day before my break, two weeks ago, I had errands to run. I went straight from school, wearing scrubs - the last day for that also - and riding the Vespa.

I had all this shit with me by the time I got home.

The Spindle is slated for demolition. It's being torn down to make way for a Walgreen's. Critical Mass went out there on the July ride.

Oh, yeah. There's already a Walgreen's in that strip mall.

This is the piece of shit "compact" car I rented in AZ.

The third thing Renee said to me, after "Dat's Daddy-O!" (pointing at my friend Joe) and "Dat's Mommy!" (pointing at my friend Miki), was "Dat's Artoo-Detoo!"

Cute kid, ain't she? Not even two yet.

She called the mouse "computer knob." By the way, her shirt reads "Everyone loves a blue-eyed girl," and she can tell you that's exactly what it says if you ask her.

After visiting Joe and Miki for a few days, I drove from Phoenix up to Sedona to meet Dani for some camping and hiking.

See that little turnabout at the far left of the picture? That's where we parked for our hike. We didn't make it to the top; we started back down when it started raining and lighting on the slick rock, and went for some fresh microbrew, instead.

She's doing something related to dinner, either prep or clean-up. I lit the fire and cooked the food, like a real cave-man.

Since the rain had passed and it was rather nice out, we sat looking up at the stars that night. The Milky Way from the desert is pretty sweet. We were going to sleep out, but the damn skunks kept looking around our campsite. Pepe LePew motherfuckers. So we set up the tent and slept in to avoid skunkdom.

It ended up raining four times that night, Dani told me. I only woke up once.

We went hiking up another trail outside Sedona the next day, before heading back to the Hopi Res.

We made it to the top of this one, although we took a bad switchback and ended up forging our own trail for a little while.

Dani had to work the next day, but I hung out, laid back, relaxed, and went for a walk.

Look up!

Look down!

My friend Jenny is also working out there for IHS, so the three of us had dinner, and their friend Ericka also stopped by and we all hung out for a while.

This is the view starting out the four-hour drive back to PHX and my flight to Chicago.

My emotional state at that point surprised me. I realized I was sad for the simple prospect of missing Dani, and Jenny too, as I left. I hadn't felt that strongly about leaving anyone in a long time.

It was a fitting visual. I turned up the music, pushed the pedal down, and continued on my journey, too far gone to see anything if I looked back.

Microcar vs. Ninjas

2007-08-17T10:02:00.000-05:00

I'm back from AZ and this is the first thing I post.

Those who want to talk have my number...

2007-08-10T22:35:00.000-05:00

I know it's been a few weeks. The birthday weekend was a blast. I won't go into details due to being very tired and very pressed for time, but suffice it to say it involved DJing, scootering, bicycling, Smoking Popes, beeeeeeer, more scootering, more bicycling, more DJing, and more beer.

That - combined with last weekend's excursion to GORP in St. Louis, which fuckin' sucks - has left me with very little free time, and we got a bunch of prep work for the incoming residents dumped on us at the last minute as well. And of course I have to get up at 4am to catch a flight to PHX.

Maybe when I get back next week I can post some photos. Yeah, right. Sorry this blog is turning to suckage, but that's because I'm out doing other things, things more rewarding than relating my day to the computer. Plus I'm tired and a little buzzed from only a couple beers down at Cafe Fresco, and can't remember all the great topics I want to write about.

Those who want to talk have my number, so thbbbtttt! to those who don't. Look me up on MySpace if you need me that badly.

Let's get this party started right....

2007-07-25T22:15:00.000-05:00

For years I never really cared about my birthday. Whoop-dee-do. Open some cards, get some cash, open some presents.

Two years ago, I actually forgot it was my birthday. I was hanging out with Marissa, who I'd met a few weeks earlier on a plane back from Quebec. It was stormy, we were driving back to her house from the grocery store and I started talking about how I'd gone camping the week before and burnt up whatever I had left over from my time with Marta. I must've said something about the age difference between us, because Marissa asked how old I was - which is when I realized it was my birthday. It was 5pm and it hadn't occurred to me all day.

Last year I actually had some plans. Vic Ruggiero, the Germs, Ska Night at Delilah's, and Critical Mass all put in an appearance, but the Sushi Para visitation was light - just Jamal and me, sharing our lonely birthday sushi dinner...

Tonight I picked up some tix for the Smoking Popes show on Friday, at which I shall meet Trish after Critical Mass likely heads out to Berwyn. ("BERR-WYNNNN?!?!?!") I also treated myself to dinner at the Handlebar and picked up some cashola to cover this weekend's potential expenses.

Tomorrow the plan is to pick up the Vespa from Old Town - finally! - and meet eight or nine people up at Sushi Para for AYCE BYOB sushi before heading to Delilah's for Ska Night, where I plan to DJ until Chuck shows up (usually late) for his regular gig.

Friday is the aforementioned Critical Mass ride and Smoking Popes show. Sometime this weekend I plan to see the Simpsons movie and get together with Liv and Les for dinner at least.

Monday I spin punk night at Delilah's. It's been a long time.

Tuesday is the Ukrainian Village Draught Beer Preservation Society's Tour de Biergarten. What a cap! I shall be totally tanked out and blitzed. Just in time for GORP next weekend.

I want a fuckin' moped now. Dork.

I've never been a Michael Jackson fan, but...

2007-07-22T22:05:00.000-05:00

There's something about watching 1500+ inmates doing this...

Now think about the geo-cultural implications of prison inmates recreating a 20-year-old music video, and how the decision got promulgated amongst the inmates and prison administrators...

Mmmmm.........mass-marketing product tie-in......

2007-07-19T22:34:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've really posted much here. But a few people have let me know recently that they like reading it, and Ryan K. told me he never knows what I'm up to anymore.

I've been writing less because, frankly, I couldn't be bothered. There wasn't anything I felt like I had to share. I was able to tell my stories to real people - even though some of those same real people read this. And, truth be told, not spending the time almost every night let me realize how much time I was devoting to this thing. (Too much.) So its priority got seriously downgraded. Or maybe I just had less to complain about.

The Vespa's in the shop for its 1,000km oil change and comprehensive inspection. I should (hopefully) be getting it back any day now. The shop in Chicago has to send it to their Joliet dealer for service, and the truck apparently doesn't come that frequently.

Here's some photos of the Kwik-E-Mart:Green squishee and frozen Jasper...

Who needs the Kwik-E-Mart?
I do.

Laugh out loud!

2007-07-18T22:39:00.001-05:00

Holy shit!

iPhones are really just mass-marketed inferior products.

I hate the Republican party, too.

That's some cool-ass shit!

2007-07-17T22:10:00.000-05:00

Makes me feel like I'm totally incompetent.

Here come the mods! Look out! They're coming for you!

2007-06-18T21:48:00.000-05:00

I'm tired. Dana's apartment is apparently infested with bedbugs, so I helped her move some of her stuff out this evening. Feh.

This weekend was loooooong. Saturday was the third annual Mods vs. Rockers at Delilah's, so pretty much from noon to five I was hanging out up on Lincoln Ave.

I met some cool people - like Drew here - shot the shit, and saw a ton of scooters and motorcycles.

This Thai puppy provided a nice cover when it started raining in the middle of the afternoon. It dried off quickly, though it rained on us twice more before the end of the night.

Of course, there were a ton of motorcycles around, too.

Sean told me that they ended up making copies of the police NO PARKING flyers and flyering every parking meter for two blocks down.

We pulled out for a big group ride up to Montrose Harbor and then down to Motoworks on the west side. Of course, right after we got onto Lake Shore Drive, traffic slowed to a standstill and it started raining. It was so damn hot that day, that it wasn't too uncomfortable.

From LSD we hit Lower Wacker, which was nuts - a swarm of scooters and motorcycles ripping through there, and then onto I-290 out to Western. Pretty fun. More groups rides needed. After dinner at Motoworks, a bunch of us scooted back up to Delilah's via surface streets. I don't know what people thought seeing a bunch of scooters buzzing around.

Yesterday, I decided to take advantage of the gorgeous hot day and ride up Sheridan Road to Lake Bluff, since I'm going to miss the Scooterworks ride for being in Portland next weekend. It was great, although of course it would have been more fun if able to share it with someone.

Ah, well. C'est la vie.

I need to bicycle more, but the Vespa is so tempting. I'm being tempted by the Scooter Cannonball. The next one isn't until fall of 2008, I believe, but with my financial and time availability at that point in my career, I doubt it'll happen until 2010. Which is okay in a way, since it'll probably take me that long to find someone to ride it with me for company.

Anyone know what's good to do in Portland? I've got Thursday night and Saturday night to kill this weekend.

Fucking free drinks...

2007-06-18T01:45:00.000-05:00

I would have liked to have been in bed a few hours ago, but $22 worth of drinks - only $5 of which I was charged for - kept me out longer than planned.

It's a weird feeling when I feel fine leaving the bar, but by the time I get home I find myself a little unsteady. Maybe "scary" is a better descriptor.

I've been sunned and rained on this weekend, worn myself out, sung along to live and prerecorded music, and generally taken good advantage of my free time to have fun and not accomplish anything. I've got a shitload of pictures; hopefully I can upload them before I head out to Portland next weekend.

First Drink of the Day!

2007-06-08T00:06:00.001-05:00

Do you like ska, monkeys, and/or beer?

I thought so. Check this out.

The wind becomes a tornado

2007-06-07T21:59:00.000-05:00

Tuesday night, for a lark, I took advantage of the cool weather to ride the Vespa up to Kafein in Evanston. I got kinda cold in just a T-shirt and leather jacket, riding into the 50-degree night weather. It was fun though. There was a super-cute girl, with hair maybe a quarter-inch longer than mine on one of the couches near me...too bad she was way too young.

Dana finally got a bicycle, after talking about it for a year. Last night we rode down to 31st St. Beach and sat and talked and caught up. Then we started back and I had a flat tire. Goddamnit. We walked the five miles or so back to her place and I got a ride home. Good opportunity to have a long conversation, though.

I got pissed off riding up Halsted this evening. Practically every asshole using the bike lane as a passing lane was in some sort of SUV. Even with bicycles wizzing and passing them by, they didn't have the common decency to get the fuck out of the bike lane. Shitheads. Were I on my bike and not the Vespa, I would have run out of loogies to hock at them.

It's so windy outside, my apartment is being messed up further by the vortices produced.

My shirt today says "BUSH HATES ME"

2007-06-04T21:15:00.000-05:00

I think I'm caught up - for the next few days, at least - on my work. Which means I'm free nights. Who's up for a drink? Or a bike ride?

Anyway, I've spent most of my free time doing political reading online. I was telling Chris yesterday - as I've told my mother at one point in the last month - that the Bushies were closet fascists. Fortunately, our culture holds them somewhat to task (for the time being). But will it work in the long run? How do you think people would react to unfettered executive privilege? And speaking of Bushie fascism, Andrew Sullivan compares now-legal "enhanced interrogation techniques" to those of the Nazis, including documentation from the post-WWII war crimes tribunals.

I wonder what Germany felt like in the 1920s?

Previously on the Darren show...

2007-06-03T22:01:00.000-05:00

I went to Seattle for an orthodontic convention a couple of weeks ago. Like I've told people, it's a pretty city, but not too cool. I stayed in a little dive hotel a couple blocks from the Space Needle, and the town is so small I was pretty much able to walk everywhere.

In the shadow of the Space Needle are both the Science Fiction Museum and the Pacific Science Center.

I first saw The Day the Earth Stood Still at the Sci-Fi Movie Fest at the Music Box a month ago. And here was Gort:

Since the Science Center was showing Spider-Man 3 in I-Max for less than I'd pay to see it in any theater in Chicago, and since I was flying solo that afternoon, I went in and saw it. Check out what was all over the walls of the bathroom:

That night, Isaac kicked my ass well and good while playing pool. Five times in a row, until the bar closed and kicked us out.

I think I-5 is the freeway that runs right through downtown Seattle. If you walk out the south side of the Washington Convention Center, you're in Freeway Park. It overhangs I-5, and while I could hear the traffic, there was none visible. It wasn't until I walked off the path and past a few trees and looked over a wall that I realized why the traffic was so loud. It's restful to have green spaces with such a secluded feel; I don't think we have such a deliberate clash of brutal urban architecture and greenery in Chicago.

Looking down First Hill:

People in Seattle weren't as friendly as in Chicago. It was definitely a different feel. It was odd to be in a city where the bicyclists all signalled their turns and didn't compulsorily lock their bikes up, and everyone obeyed the crossing signals even when no cars were coming. I talked to one guy, in fact, who was given nasty looks for crossing against the cross-walk.

I did Critical Mass with Danny and Tom for the first time in two months a few weeks ago. Such a blast, although I did accidentally drop and break an (empty) beer bottle.

Here we are heading north on Dearborn:

Tourists...

...who realize they aren't the only ones taking pictures.

I broke away from the Mass early so I could catch Propagandhi's set at the Abby. The crowd sucked, and they played a lot of songs off their latest and definitely not greatest, Potemkin City Limits. Still, I got into it during the old songs, although there were definitely a lot of Fat Wreck musclehead fans there. And $20 for a T-shirt? Fuck that. The designs weren't even that good.

I had one beer during the show at WNUR last night, but was still a little buzzed a few hours later. I think this is due to two factors:

1) I've been drinking less, so my tolerance has dropped
2) A 22oz., 8% abv beer is equal to about four regular beers

This is not the beer I was drinking. Laura W. and I polished most of this bad boy off late on a Friday night a few weeks ago. I think it knocked us on our asses pretty well.

I was rereading a novel I'd bought used several years ago, and at the end was a picture of Marta from four years ago, around when we first started dating. I must have used it as a book mark way back when. I was surprised at how forceful my emotional response was. I wanted to look at it and remember what I'd lost, but at the same time was very fearful that it would hurt me to do so. After I finished the book, I took a look at it, closely. It didn't match my memory of the time. My memory is nicer, probably because I don't have blinders on at the moment. I'd not seen Marta for almost two years, and I burned every picture of her I could find after we broke up as well. So it was nice to have a little confirmation that I'm definitely better off now without her, as lonely as I feel sometimes.

Since Chuck Wren usually doesn't show until after 10pm for Ska Night, I've decided I'm going to spin from 9pm until his arrival. I did it last week, he seemed grateful, I got a couple-three free drinks out of it and had fun playing music. Then I bought an $18 bottle of beer (plus tip) and pretty much knocked myself on my ass with it. The bicycle was definitely weaving a bit on the ride home that night.

Long-time readers probably won't remember the gorgeous girl I mentioned when I last spun Ska Night, in December, so check this old post out if you'd like background. Anyway, I think she was there at Ska Night last week, but with a guy who was obviously her boyfriend, by the low-key PDA going on.

I finally picked up my Vespa the other week. In early 2006 I started planning on getting one after I finished my residency, but my friend Patty told me to just go ahead and get it since we only live once - at least in our cosmology. So I started saving up for it last summer, mostly via student loans. And then I found out I need a motorcycle license for the model I wanted, with the 150cc engine - my dad wanted me to have something I could out-accelerate most tailgaters with. By the time I was able to take a rider course, get a license, and order the damn thing, it was already early May of 2007. And now I have it.

I've put about a hundred miles on it in the 2-3 days I've had the opportunity and cause to ride it - I still want to keep up the bicycling since the bike gets infinitely better mileage than does the Vespa. I've been up to Wilmette and out to Oak Brook on it, and spent the first 20 miles or so riding around the city, getting a feel for it. I took it to school one day last week where I didn't want to get super-sweaty riding my bike there in the heat, and it's pretty nice to just ride around the gate to exit the parking garage.

Let me rant and let me ramble

2007-05-15T21:54:00.000-05:00

I finished last week exhausted, then worked this past weekend as well, although I at least got to sleep in.

I've spent the first few days of my break sleeping in, but going to bed too late to really get rested on it. I've seen a bunch of friends, as well as my parents and grandmother. I've vegged out rereading old novels I loved when I read them 10+ years ago. I ran errands and took care of shit.

Vespa: $4,299
Tax, title, license: $924
Leather jacket: $100
Insurance premium: $293/yr
Parking: $10/mo
Yes, it's gonna be good. I take my road test on Friday, hopefully I can pick it up next week.

Vic Ruggiero played a 2+ hour set Sunday night. Sweet, it was.

Yesterday I was rather productive. Today I was lazy and listless all fuckin' day. Somewhat of a waste. Relaxing, though not too good for my self-esteem.

I shaved my beard. I still have the urge to clean food off it after I eat. Gross. I swear my cheeks are getting chubbier. Not good.

I ran into Ryan K. twice at the grocery stores this evening. Ryan, I was going to say more about you, but I can't remember for shit at the moment. Sorry.

Tomorrow's a big cleaning day.

Anyone know any places I'd find cool in Seattle? I've got four nights to kill there, and a few days.

After too much fun: Eat to work, sleep to work, work to work, work, work!

2007-05-06T12:49:00.000-05:00

Seventeen hours of science fiction at the Music Box yesterday. I'm fucking exhausted. I got home at quarter to six this morning, with the sky light and birds singing the coming of dawn. Of course, I woke up yesterday hungover and probably still a little buzzed from my, ahem, overindulgence Friday evening, after only eight hours of sleep. My body was screaming it needed more, so of course I went out into the world for 20 hours.

There was a really cute nerdy (of course, being a sci-fi fest) girl there who I often caught looking rather keenly in my direction at the Music Box. Unfortunately she was with first some friends, and then one guy met her later, and I was too chicken-shit to just ask if she were seeing anybody and ask her out.

I've been procrastinating at school, and as a result I'm going to have to work my ass off this week. But tests are done; the big thing I've got to do is get my IRB application done so I can send it in after my thesis committee meeting on Thursday morn. Oh, and reschedule a few patients so I can make that meeting. I've also got some records I took on Friday that I've got to organize.

This afternoon shall be spent working, and of course I'll get burned out and quit early. Whatever. After this weekend, and last weekend, and I dunno how many before that, I should be totally sleep-deprived.

On the plus side, I've been totally grooving on the Tim Armstrong/Aggrolites record, or the tracks that have been released online so far. I can't wait for the actual record to be out so I can get the songs all mastered to the same level.

I'm totally fucked.

2007-05-05T01:18:00.001-05:00

Dude, I am so fucking plastered right now. We had our departmental graduation dinner tonight and I drank *waaaaaaaaaaaaaay* tooo much. I've already thrown up once in Fado, and Shana and Rob convinced me to take a cab home.

I'm writing this blog entry from my bathroom, and I'm sure you can guess what that means. I'm totally fucked up. It's been years since I've been this drunk. I started out with a plastic bag in my hand and headed for the bathroom right about the time I figured the plastic bag would be inadequate compensation for the shit I've been feeling. I've since upchucked 2-3 times into my toilet.

Moral of the story: know your limits. Don't fuck with them.

Reminding myself to be happy.

2007-05-02T19:29:00.000-05:00

My shirt smells like barbecue. I was going to get sushi take-out for dinner, and then Dana told me of a dental student barbecue. So I stuffed myself. I was also standing outside in fifty degrees in a T-shirt. I don't know how much cleaning I'll get done before I conk out for the evening.

Sunday afternoon I was sitting out in the sun in the park across the street, reading. It occurred to me that I emote much more to the sad parts and depressing scenes in books and songs. I've always liked any movie that could make me cry. Hell, crying just feels good sometimes. Sometimes I have to remind myself how it feels to be happy.

I finished reading The Boy Detective Fails last night.

Billy notices his arch-foe, Professor Von Golum, curled beneath the bed frame. Though the old man is asleep, there is a length of shiny wire twisted in his hands, the murder weapon held close, at the ready.

"Professor, may I ask what you are doing down there?"

"I was planning on strangling you as soon as you went to sleep."

"I see."

"Perhaps it was poor planning, but I could not stay awake. It is very comfortable under here."

"Would you like some help out from underneath?"

"No. No, I'm alright. I'll just stay here, if you don't mind."

Billy sighs, turning on his side.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you a question, sir?"

"Yes, but know it may be the last question you ever ask."

"Have you ever been in love, sir?"

"Oh, my poor, poor childish detective. Surely you must know by now. Love is the invention of man. It does not exist. It is a fairy tale designed to keep order. Imagine how we as humans would behave if we freed ourselves from the idiocy of that one particular idea: what a wonderful world; a world of absolute possibility."

"I think I may be in love, sir."

"May I ask how you know? How can you prove it? You are a detective, no? Where is the evidence? What clues are you basing this foolish assumption on?"

"I don't know, really. It just occurs as a feeling in my hands and behind my knees."

"But can it be placed in a bell jar? Can it be seen under a microscope? How can something as invisible - as insubstantial - as love ever hope to last?"

"I cannot stop thinking about kissing her."

"That is chemistry - or biology - it has nothing to do with hearts and flowers and the like. Do not be confused by what the natural world already knows: We are all, in our own way, completely and totally alone. If love is real, it is a complete and total failing of the intellect. It is utter self-destruction. It is pandemonium."

"Yes, thank you, sir."

"It is my pleasure, Billy."

In the near dark, the boy detective finds his bottle of pills and quickly swallows one Ativan, holding his breath until he is sure the villain has crept out. He looks up in wonder as the soft haze of snow drifts down.

......

Outside it is raining; the boy detective and Penny smile at each other silently, still not touching. Billy, in his blue sweater, and Penny, in her pink hat and brown dress, smile down at their feet, unable to look at each other or even speak. Beside Penny on the bus again, Billy thinks about making a bold move - trying to hold Penny's hand - but for whatever reason, he cannot work up the courage to make such an attempt.

Billy and Penny smile at each other silently from across the booth of the small yellow diner. The table is littered with coffee cups and opened sugar packets and small plastic creamer containers. Carefully, Billy moves these items aside, making a path. Slowly, Billy goes to take Penny's hand and she lets him hold it this time: finally.

......

Penny's brown eyes disappear, hidden as she lowers her head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I thought...I thought I was ready."

Penny begins crying and leans over and kisses Billy's cheek nervously. She turns, unlocks the door, and runs up the steps. Billy catches a fading glimpse of Penny's white ankle and pink shoe as the door swings closed behind her. He sits on the steps and stares back over his shoulder at the building, frowning. He looks down at his hand, which is, once again, empty.

The boy detective is feeling badly as he rides the bus home that morning. Imagine this is how he feels exactly:

dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing
scissors scissors scissors - heart - scissors scissors scissors

......

The boy detective is on the bus crying. The people sitting beside him do their best to ignore him.

......

To the boy or girl that finds this:
Mr. Howard Lunt, aged 9, hid this April 24, 1902. Congratulations! Put back in spot so others might find.
Signed,
Mr. Howard Lunt, President, Leage of Amateur
Whodunit Enthusiasts

Billy and Penny look at each other and smile. He nods, quite pleased. The boy detective slips the note back into the bellows, seals it up, and lowers the accordion back into the drainpipe. They walk back toward the bus station. The sun begins shining over their shoulders.

We would really like to think that you were holding hands with somebody while you read that last part. If not, you might read it again and ask someone to hold your hand right now. You might then write that person's name somewhere here on this page with a heart glowing around it. Why not? It might be fun.

I still smell like barbecue.

Outtakes

2007-05-01T19:49:00.000-05:00

I've been reading Joe Meno's The Boy Detective Fails. It's pretty sweet.

It is none other than Effie Mumford, age eleven, an adolescent, female, and very awkward-looking. What you must know about Effie is that she has won the local, state, and national science fair for the past three years. Also, she is hopelessly in love with amateur rocketry. Additionally, she is an interminable social pariah, a long-suffering possessor of many, many unstoppable runny noses, a silent victim of reoccurring eye infections, and a future prize-winning neurobiologist. One last important fact about Effie Mumford: She does not like to be touched. Not by anyone, not ever.

As per her usual routine, Effie is dressed wildly inappropriately, in her white and purple winter jacket, which she wears year round, well into the hottest months of summer, white scarf around her neck, fur-lined hood pulled up, entirely covering her small head.

......

It is the school library where Effie Mumford goes to hide during lunch period. She does not eat at school. She is too afraid someone will take advantage of her while her mouth is open and that she will eat an item from her lunch which has somehow been poisoned. Poisoning someone does not require much imagination and she believes that, if given the opportunity, her classmates would surely take it.

It is later in the school day that she realizes today is the day of the science fair. She has nothing prepared. Her experiment having been ruined by the death of her rabbit, she walks about the small, terribly arranged exhibits - past a display for a rocket-car of the future, past a papier-mache model of a volcano, past a bumpy bust describing the science of phrenology - to Parker Lane's prize-winning presentation, entitled, "How Water Totally Becomes Ice." Effie Mumford stops and stares, dumfounded, glaring at the horrible Magic-Markered illustrations, the torn and oddly pasted National Geographic pages, and worse, a rectangular ice cube tray from which Parker, grinning, offers samples.

Effie Mumford's small hands turn red, as does her face; what is so bothersome is the knowledge that she could have easily won if she had only tried again. It is this knowledge that makes her cry - not for the murder of her bunny, not about the enduring, pervasive insults, not because of her terrible, taped-together glasses. It is knowing that she could have done better than all of this and did not, which forces the small, shiny tears from her eyes. She has allowed herself, once again, to be defeated by mediocrity, and it is this thought - the apparent triumph of the uninspired and average - that truly makes her angry. Out of both rage and frustration, she purposefully knocks over Parker Lane's poorly assembled display, the poster boards crashing to the gymnasium as Effie runs away.

.......

At the Convocation of Evil, the schedule of events reads:
9:00-9:30: Welcome with coffee and assorted muffins and bagels
9:30-10:30: Break-out groups:
- Crime as Your Career: Investing for the Future
- Kidnapping: More Hassle Than It's Worth?
- High-Grade Explosives from Everyday Chemicals
10:30-11:30: Featured Presentation: A Century of Madmen
11:30-12:00: Featured Panel: To Wear a Mask?
12:00-1:00: Lunch
1:00-2:00: Officers and Sub-Committee Elections
2:00-3:00: Featured Guest: Senator Jonah Klee (R-Texas)
3:00-4:00: Closing Remarks: "Our Evil Architectural Plans"

......

The boy detective has never kissed a girl. Shhh - it is a secret. It make him feel very bad.

......

The boy detective enters the small silver office building and sneaks past a snoring guard into a waiting elevator. When the elevator doors open, he can hear the sound of a vacuum running. He follows the sound and slowly sneaks around the corner of a small green cubicle and finds the lady in pink, now in a pink cleaning smock, leaning over a small white vacuum, running it back and forth, dancing to her headphones, shouting along loudly. It is impossible not to smile, seeing her: eyes closed, feet tapping in place, yelling louder than the vacuum cleaner.

In a moment, the lady stops vacuuming and begins dancing with a tall silver coat rack. One of its rungs holds a suit jacket, which is swying back and forth in time. Then the lady grabs a handful of files and tosses them up in the air. Finding a chair, she sits and spins around, pounding her feet on the top of the desks. Like that, she has climbed up on a conference table and, her face all red and nearly out of breath, she slides down the table, scattering an enormous pile of recyclable paper.

If somehow, through science or magic, we could discern an X-ray of Billy's heart just then, it would look like a lovely, perfectly shaped balloon - the kind sold on Valentine's Day in the comical rounded heart shape - growing larger and larger, filling his chest, his eyes, expanding to the size of the room, as the lady swings her hair around, still dancing.

I sat alone, bored, accomplishing nothing...

2007-04-30T21:09:00.000-05:00

Tonight will be the first night I get to sleep before 3am in several days. One of my old professors told me to enjoy the single life while I can. I gave a lecture, which went well. Dana talked me into going for dinner and beer with a simple, "Want to go to Hawkeye's?"

For you historians out there, how do you feel about burgeoning American fascism?

Syncing the drum fills and artillery is kind of haunting.

Three days, no happy ending...

2007-04-29T02:40:00.000-05:00

It's no fun when you go on a date with a girl you have no attraction to.

It's frustrating when you want to be with a girl and you can't.

It sucks when you meet a pretty girl and let her go because you know it ain't gonna work.

My ankle hurts from too much dancing.

Despite this, life is grand.

Let's get movin' into action.

2007-04-24T21:58:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I posted anything. I've been fucking tired. Emotionally worn. I've been to shows, taken a road trip, and been bruised and abused. I've gotten sick, recovered, and relapsed. I've lost my voice. I've read easy-read books and taken what is probably the last written final exam of my life. Many of these are interrelated.

Right now I'm eating carrots and drinking beer. I haven't been to the grocery store in almost three months. I've got plenty of beer, though, so stop by if you're thirsty. Mind the mess; I've been procrastinating on the cleaning.

I'm giving a lecture to the dental students about integrating orthodontics into a comprehensive treatment plan, and put together what has probably been the first handout ever written at this school on the subject. It took hours, but I did about 95% of it from memory. I guess I'm learning something. I've been invited to give a one-hour lecture at the Chicago Dental Society midwinter meeting in 2009; I don't think I'll have a lot of cases to show, but I can focus well on research and published articles. Whatever, I've got almost two years. I can't turn this down; do things like that often enough and you don't get asked again.

Hey, Ryan K.: my sore shoulder from the Lifetime show? It was better by the time they finished their set. I'm not worn out, I just need to be loosened up before use.

This weekend should kick ass; even though I'm missing Critical Mass - there are several people I know who are planning to make it to May's Mass - I've got Ska Night, scooter school, four shows, and friends I've not seen in a while. Bitchin'.

Checkers means it's ska.

Geraldo, Fred Phelps, Bruce Lee, and Buzz Aldrin.

2007-04-09T22:19:00.000-05:00

Geraldo as the reasonable one:

Fucked up (watch all seven parts):

Cool:

Buzz Aldrin kicks ass:

Everyone except the band looks like a rock star. Everyone except for you can go to hell.

2007-04-09T19:48:00.000-05:00

Two quotes from the AVClub's SXSW reporting:

We've been at the Noise Pop party for less than 10 minutes, and we've already seen two ironic New Kids On The Block T-shirts.
..............
A sheriff's-department employee moonlighting as a cabbie tells me he's happy not to be at his regular job during SXSW, because arrestees in the music biz all think they're really important and deserve special treatment in the pokey. Self-important assholes? In the music industry? Say it ain't so.

I took my board exam this morning. I'm drinking beer and cleaning my hole - slowly. Last night I saw Bedouin Soundclash. Very nice. I napped this afternoon. I'm in a good groove. We'll see how that changes when I go back to school tomorrow.

See the world. The Easter Bunny hates you.

2007-04-08T21:53:00.000-05:00

Do you really fucking get it? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

2007-04-07T19:03:00.000-05:00

DeKalb has a shitty-ass punk scene. Oh, the venues are OK, but the crowd at the show on Thursday sucked ass. Frat assholes pushing people around before the band is even on stage, muscle-bound gorillas who only know how to push people around and don't even seem to realize when the song's over. Fuck, they don't even pick each other up. Some kid charged me, so I grabbed him and dragged him in a circle and then just started pushing him through the pit until we both fell over with about ten other people. I'm waiting on the floor for the other kids to get off my legs so I can get up, and then I see some kid just standing next to me. "Help me up, you dummy!" I said to him, trying to pull my leg free. Jeez. Muscle-headed dipshits in collared shirts laughing at me for dancing rather than throwing my fists around with abandon. I told one of them that I take such insults from jocks as compliments.

The good things: Fake Problems put on a really good set. They remind me of the punk bands from ten years ago, as well as incorporating a lot of Americana, and having a really unique sound. Plus two cowbells on the drum kit. Against Me! put on a pretty sweet set as well. I was one of the few dancing to the new songs, even though I didn't know them - I'd heard a few of them when I saw them last fall, but that's it. I did run into this kid Matt I've met at a few shows, and this girl Carly I've met at shows before too. So that at least was fun.

I've still got sore spots on my knees, my voice is still a little rough, and my muscles are finally unknotting. So overall it was a good show. Last night I slept many many hours. Tomorrow I'm going to catch Bedouin Soundclash at the Subterranean and hope I get enough sleep for Monday morning.

Yesterday I was so damn tired I was falling asleep sitting up at the end of the day. I've pretty much given up studying for Monday's board exam. Everyone from the residents who took it last year to one of the guys that wrote a bunch of the questions on it says we really don't have to worry at all.

I've got the radio show tonight. I'll see how the new studio is, and monopolize a bunch of airtime to play the Big D interview Travis and I did a few weeks ago. I haven't been there in two weeks, and I got a little I've got to get of my system.

You're coming off kind of contrived and pretentious. You're not saying anything we haven't heard before.

2007-04-04T22:10:00.000-05:00

Did Critical Mass last Friday. Fun. Dental students came too. Danny showed up later.

I stopped and took pics of people who were taking pics of us, but they all came out crappy. Best Mass in a long time. From downtown to Old Town, Streeterville, to Chinatown, back downtown, the West Loop, and then Danny and I peeled off in Wicker Park to head to the Handlebar for dinner after about four hours and 25 miles.

Fucking cops thought it'd be fun to harass us. So there were five squad cars at the end of the Mass with their sonic blasters going for no good reason. At the front you couldn't hear it, but when we stopped at a liquor store we got back right in front of them, and it hurt. I was talking with some mom who had her kids with her; she'd tried talking to the cops but they just gave a sarcastic thumbs up. I commented that someone somewhere was getting mugged or raped at the moment, and the cops decided to harass a bunch of bicyclists and make themselves look bad in front of grade-school kids. Someone else commented that since the front of the Mass couldn't even hear the sirens, it was like pushing string. Cops are good for something, just count on them being assholes when you don't need them.

I obviously got my bike back from the shop, finally, after I figured out what was wrong. In less than seven months, I completely wore out the chainwheel. I pretty much wore out the whole drivetrain. It was about $300 worth of stuff including the tune-up, but I figure even a new bike would rack up at least $200 worth of wear and tear after next winter.

I'm burnt out on studying. I don't care anymore. I spent all last weekend at school, pulling late nights going over board-review shit. Plus I'm pretty confident in my ability to pass my board exam on Monday. So I've been reading crappy novels - not "crappy," but actually crappy - and letting shit go to hell in a handbasket.

Tomorrow I'm going to see Against Me! I need it. Almost as much as I need sleep. And a shower.

Irony is For Suckers

2007-04-01T00:18:00.000-05:00

There are apparently 32 surveilance cameras surrounding George Orwell's home.

Dill is one of the spices of my childhood. Like ambrosia sometimes.

2007-03-28T23:19:00.000-05:00

How offensive would you find blackface today?

2007-03-28T22:23:00.000-05:00

Referring back to the post I made this weekend about the movie 300: my mom sent me an e-mail with a link to pictures of the Iranian Norooz (New Year's) Parade in NYC. Two images to view: here and here. Feel free to view the rest.

I was a party in Jersey five years ago and I was sitting with an Iranian professor of sociology and he asked me if, as a half-Iranian, I identified as Iranian or not. I replied that I hadn't identified as Iranian until when in second grade I innocently answered the question of what kind of name my last name was and ended up getting chased at recess because of it. The taunts of "Terrorist!" followed me all through high school. After speaking with him, I read his book: The Making of an Iranian Community in America by Maboud Ansari. Although a bit dated, it struck me as inherently true, and there were many things I hadn't considered. His explanation of dual marginality struck me, and I definitely identified with it, choosing what many seem to consider a marginal lifestyle myself.

At least our New Year is based on some astronomical event, like the spring equinox.

A few years ago, some dumbshit foreign policy grad student from University of Chicago had the gumption to tell me that he doesn't believe racism exists since we're all one race. Dumbshit. I agree that we're all one race, but racism is out there and it isn't going to go away for a long fucking time, unfortunately. I'll never tell my kids to deny their Persian heritage, but I hope I never even have to consider the choice.

The only problem I have with people celebrating their cultural heritage is when they use it an excuse to set themselves apart from the rest of us for either selfish or "moral" reasons.

Drunken banking

2007-03-28T22:16:00.000-05:00

It's very interesting to do online banking while drunk. I was doing arithmetic out loud. I'm going to read "bad" literature for the rest of the night. Maybe I'll get hungry enough to eat something.

It won't be safe to go out at night when the nerds of junior high unite!

2007-03-28T21:37:00.000-05:00

The Onion has a review of the new Revenge of the Nerds DVD. When I was seven or eight, I went to see Ernest Goes to Camp (starring Jim Cleaver as Ernest P. Worrel) and one of the previews was for Revenge of the Nerds 2. It consisted of a fine study with classical music playing until a plush leather armchair swiveled around and Ogre let out his classic "NEEEEEEERRRRRRDDDDSSSSS!!!!!"

The Piraat's feeling pretty good. Tomorrow's Ska Night. I need it, sadly.

Fucking piece of fucking shit.

2007-03-28T20:48:00.000-05:00

To top it off, three of the light bulbs of the four in my kitchen burnt out. And they're fucking long-life bulbs.

Remind me never to buy any car from a company that makes something called a Jeep Patriot. I guess that means no Mercedes once I make my millions.

I run head-on into traffic in the afternoon. I've logged the longest miles alone at night inside my room.

2007-03-28T20:18:00.000-05:00

Fucking shit day. First we get the announcement of a new dress code for our department only. We're already the best-dressed department in the building, and now we get the news that we have to wear shirt and tie every day. Stupid. The tie especially, since they have been shown to collect bacteria within a few wears and are rarely ever laundered. Plus, it's also been shown that patients do not make any differentiation in quality of care based on appearance.

I got my bike back from the shop. $227 for a tune and several new parts, and the fucking chain is skipping more than it was when I dropped it off. The chain derailed at least a half dozen times on the half-mile ride home. I thought it was marginally unsafe to ride in traffic last week when I took it in, but now it's definitely unsafe. The real pisser is that Critical Mass is in two days and I need to find a bike to borrow. Maybe I'll even buy a second bike since I ride enough and it would be nice to have a spare. It's a pain in the ass to drive or take CTA sometimes.

I've had a 26oz. of Piraat in the fridge for a month. Tonight's the night for it. I want to cry and punch walls.

Sing along. The Revolution is just a T-shirt away!

2007-03-24T14:32:00.000-05:00

Driving up to Madison on Tuesday, it was a sunny day and I was cruising through the cornfields of northwestern Illinois, and Billy Bragg's "Waiting For the Great Leap Forwards" came on. It gave me shivers. I played it again. Shivers again.

It may have been Camelot for Jack and Jacqueline
But on the Che Guevara highway filling up with gasoline
Fidel Castro's brother spies a rich lady who's crying
Over luxury's disappointment
So he walks over and he's trying
To sympathise with her but he thinks that he should warn her
That the Third World is just around the corner

In the Soviet Union a scientist is blinded
By the resumption of nuclear testing and he is reminded
That Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's optimism fell
At the first hurdle

In the Cheese Pavilion and the only noise I hear
Is the sound of someone stacking chairs
And mopping up spilt beer
And someone asking questions and basking in the light
Of the fifteen fame-filled minutes of the fanzine writer

Mixing pop and politics he asks me what the use is
I offer him embarrassment and my usual excuses
While looking down the corridor
Out to where the van is waiting
I'm looking for the Great Leap Forwards

Jumble sales are organised and pamphlets have been posted
Even after closing time there's still parties to be hosted
You can be active with the activists
Or sleep in with the sleepers
While you're waiting for the Great Leap Forwards

One leap forward, two leaps back
Will politics get me the sack?

Here comes the future and you can't run from it
If you've got a blacklist I want to be on it

Its a mighty long way down rock 'n' roll
From "Top of the Pops" to drawing the dole

If no one seems to understand
Start your own revolution and cut out the middleman

In a perfect world we'd all sing in tune
But this is reality so give me some room

So join the struggle while you may
The Revolution is just a T-shirt away
Waiting for the Great Leap Forwards

Celebrate your cultural bias at the movies!

2007-03-24T14:00:00.000-05:00

There was a time years back when I was studying in NU's Core library and needed a break, so I picked up the copy of Frank Miller's 300 to read. As with just about all of his works, it was very violent and graphic, with stunning colors and panel spreads.

I received this article from one of our family friends:

3/16/07
THE TRUTH BEHIND 300
By Cyrus Kar

For many Iranians the cinematic movie 300 may come as a shocking revelation. But to those of us who came up through America's school system, the Battle of Thermopylae, which is what the movie 300 is based on, is as familiar as George Washington's fabled "cherry tree" incident.

The Battle of Thermopylae was of course written by the classical Greek author, Herodotus, who lived in the Persian city of Halicarnassus. His book, The Histories became part of Western folklore only recently. It wasn't until about 1850 that America embraced Herodotus as the leading authority on Persian history.

Before 1850, however, the West had a very favorable impression of the Persian Empire. That's because the West's main source for Persian history was the Bible and the Cyropaedia, written by another Greek author named Xenophon.

But the Cyropaedia glorified the monarchy of Cyrus The Great, and in the wake of two bloody revolutions fought by America and France to liberate themselves from their own monarchies, a major campaign began, around the mid 19th century, to promote democracy throughout the rest of Europe, and Herodotus was the perfect propaganda tool.

Herodotus was a democratic groupie and was quickly ushered in as the "Father Of History." Around 1850, his Battle Of Thermopylae came to symbolize the West's struggle for democracy against the powerful forces of Persia's monarchy.

The story is easy to buy into: 300 brave Spartans saved Western democracy from 2.7 million evil Persians. But aside from the fanciful numbers which need decimal-point adjustments, this whimsical tale has far graver consequences than a mere biased account of history.

The Battle Of Thermopylae has been the single most powerful wedge, which has divided East and West for over 2 millennia. In a time when East and West should be reconciling their differences, along comes the movie 300 to drive that wedge even deeper.

What is most disturbing about this movie is not that it lacks historical accuracy. It is not that Xerxes, the Grandson of Cyrus The Great and loving husband of Esther, is shown as an oversized drag queen. Its not even the outdated racist cliche of casting the Persians as Africans and the Spartans as white, blue-eyed Chippendale dancers, when in reality the roles may well have been reversed.

What is so distressing about this movie is the realization of the tremendous power Hollywood wields in determining a people's identity. It is the same nightmare Native Americans endured during the whole 'cowboy-movie' genre.

But for those who are quick to dismiss 300 as a fleeting fantasy flick aimed at the insignificant, 17 to 24 year-old male video-gamer, think again. First there was Alexander, now 300, next could well be the Battle Of Marathon, another one of Herodotus's glowing accounts of ancient Persia.

Herodotus is accepted blindly by virtually all Western demographics. Even the New York Times is not immune. Here is how it described the Persians in its April 20, 2004 issue on the Battle Of Marathon:

"the defeat of a ruthless state (Persia) that had enslaved much of the known world from the Balkans to the Himalayas."

"the ancient Greeks defeated the Asian invaders (Persia) and saved Europe in what scholars call one of the first great victories of freedom over tyranny"
- William J. Broad, (NY Times)

What stretches the limits of hypocrisy is that there isn't a single shred of archeological evidence that the Persians ever owned slaves. Yet we know that slavery was an integral cornerstone of Greek society. Aristotle's manifesto even sanctions it. Persia, which was once a haven for runaway slaves from Egypt, Greece, and later Rome, is today branded as a slave-hungry empire by cultures which were built on slavery!

What makes Herodotus's propaganda so difficult to refute is that its peppered with facts. But in reality, its a desperate diatribe. Perhaps his biggest ploy is his attempt to equate democracy with freedom. These two words are used virtually interchangeably throughout his book. And the West has swallowed it hook-line-and-sinker.

But America's founding fathers new better. They were not swayed by Herodotus. They implemented many safeguards to protect freedom from the pitfalls that mired Athenian democracy. Even Winston Churchill said, "Democracy is the worst form of government except for all the others which have been tried."

Democracy may well be the best form of government. But what makes America great is not so much democracy as it is its Bill Of Rights. And this is exactly what made Persia Great. Democracy can often lead to tyranny by the majority as was the case in democratic Athens, where women, slaves and foreigners did not have the right to vote.

In monarchic Persia, however, women enjoyed a level of gender equality unmatched even to this day, and slavery was not practiced. The fact is, Persia's monarchy was more free than Athens' democracy, all because of Persia's Bill Of Rights.

No one exemplifies Persia's freedom better than Herodotus himself. He describes Athens as the bastion of freedom, yet he chose to live in Persia. Xenophon, on the other hand, who actually lived in Athens, reminisces enviably about the monarchy of Cyrus The Great?

Herodotus claims Persia had enslaved most of the known world, yet we know Herodotus was not a slave. He traveled freely throughout the empire, openly criticizing it.

Why did Herodotus not live in Greece? Because Persia - the empire he is so quick to demonize - afforded him the very freedom to publish his scathing report of it. People want to live where their god-given rights are protected, regardless of whether its democratic or monarchic.

These god-given rights were first drafted into law by the founder of the Persian empire, Cyrus The Great. In fact, ancient Persia may well have served as the blue print for America's Bill Of Rights. Both Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, the architects of America's Constitution, were great admirers and owned several copies of Xenophon's Cyropaedia.

Today, no other country resembles ancient Persia as closely as does the United States. If any country should sympathize with, rather than celebrate, Persia's quagmire in Greece it is the United States. Few events in history mirror America's war on terror as closely as Persia's war on Greece.

The Greeks had been carrying out terrorist attacks on Persian holdings for years. They had attacked Persian cities, set fire to Persian temples, disrupted key trade routes, and pirated merchant ships crossing the Bosphorus. They incited rebellions inside Persian provinces, but perhaps most abhorrent to the Persians was the ease by which the Greeks broke their treaties and betrayed Persia's trust.

Rather than resort to violence, however, Persia tried to keep the Greeks in check by financially supporting Greek politicians who were "pro-Persian," much the same way America fights its proxy wars. But what finally triggered Persia's wrath was an act rarely mentioned in the West, though well documented, even by Herodotus (7:11).

Persia's 9/11:

In 498 BCE, Athens carried out a terrorist attack on Sardis, a major Persian city, which made 9/11 seem like child's play. Aristagoras, an Athenian, set fire to the "outlying parts" of Sardis trapping most of its population "in a ring of fire." (Herodotus 5:101)

More innocent civilians died at the hands of Aristagoras than Osama bin Laden could ever hope to kill. And just as most of the world supported America's retaliation against Al Qaeda, so did it rally in support of Persia's attack on Athens.

The Spartans were not even targets of Persia's attack, until they violated a universal protocol by killing a Persian messenger who Herodotus claims was asking for Sparta's submission but in reality was probably sent by Persia's king, Xerxes to convey the same message George Bush sent to the entire world after 9/11: "you're either with us, or against us."

The Spartans were Greek Jihadists who lived only to die. They were by all accounts ruthless savages who murdered Greek slaves known as "Helots" just for sport, cultivated a culture of thievery and rape, and practiced infanticide, as the movie 300 rightly points out in its opening scenes. Sparta was not even democratic. It was an oligarchy at best. Despite knowing all this, the West continues to hail the Spartans as the saviors of Western democracy.

Yes, the Spartans died fighting a foreign invader. But so do countless Iraqi insurgents, yet few of us would consider them good guys. Those who do are then not much different from Westerners who cheer for the Spartans. Rooting for the Spartans merely because they were underdogs, is like rooting for Osama bin Laden today.

History is no longer written by the victors, it is written by filmmakers. When will the children of Persia rise up and fight back using the same weapon Hollywood has used for years to denigrate the legacy of their ancestors? When will we abandon our defensive posture and begin to write our own history again?

Perhaps the movie 300 was a necessary wake up call. But Persia bashing will never disappear on its own. It is the main villain in the Western saga. The only way it will change is through the power of film.

Alex Jovy's epic movie about Cyrus The Great could have done wonders for the Iranian image. Instead it sits idle for lack of money. My documentary film about Cyrus The Great (www.spentaproductions.com) has languished for the mere want of $400,000.

Iranians are the most affluent minority group in America. If we set our minds to it, we can achieve anything. This Nowruz, I hope all Iranians will resolve to finally unite in an effort to redeem the reputation of our ancestors.

Happy Nowruz,
Cyrus Kar

While not 100% on the money, it's still plenty good food for thought. Then I read this week's Savage Love, and Dan Savage had this at the end of the column:

With nothing but time on my hands this week, I slipped out of the office and went to the movies. Have you seen 300 yet? It's about a handful of lightly armed ancient Greeks — the Spartans — who take on the mighty, massive Persian army. Some feel the film is homophobic; some feel it's a conservative, pro-war piece of agitprop.
Homophobic? It's Ann Coulter on a meth binge.

The Persian army is an armed gay-pride parade, a threat to all things decent and, er, Greek. The king of the Spartans — among the most notorious boy-fuckers in all of ancient history — dismisses Athenian Greeks as weak-willed "philosophers and boy lovers." The Persian emperor? An eight-foot-tall black drag queen — mascara, painted-on eyebrows, pink lip gloss. Emperor RuPaul is positively obsessed with men kneeling in front of him. Why gay up the Persians? So that straight boys in the theater can identify with the Spartan king and his 300 soldiers — all of whom appear to have been recruited from and outfitted by the International Male catalog.

What isn't up for debate is the film's politics. The only times the Persian army doesn't look like a gay-pride parade in hell, it looks like a crowd of madly chanting Islamic militants. And if the Spartan king has to break Spartan law to defend Spartan freedoms? Well, sometimes a king's gotta do what a king's gotta do. Because, as the queen of Sparta points out, freedom isn't free. And, yes, she uses exactly those words. George Bush is going to blow a load in his pants when he sees this movie.

'Nuff said.

I massacred the afternoon to the sound of rain drumming against parked cars.

2007-03-23T20:20:00.000-05:00

Rather than give a synopsis of my week, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Bingo:

Dobie pups:

The monkey pup:

Puppy piles:

Skeletor:

Devil cats (actually very sweet, for cats):

I went to a comic shop for the first time in years while I was in Madison. I ended up spending almost $60 on graphic novels. Now that I've read them, I can feel the old addiction returning, but I don't think it's worth it.

I also saw this manhole cover in Madison, on the way to the Old Fashioned from Laura W.'s place.

Chicago is beautiful when you're burnt out from studying. Of course, the most distinguishing thing about our skyline is the Sears Tower, which is why it shows up all the fucking time in my pictures.

This seen on the ride home. Worth pulling over for.

On the road with me:

I dropped my bike at the shop for a tune-up, and it may need a new chain and cassette as well since it's skipping in the back. I need to clean up my hidey-hole.

I took two or three naps today. I lost count. Can't seem to focus. I really want to eat sushi tonight. I'm debating getting take-out and taking it out somewhere else. I dunno.

Anyway, walking home in the drizzle this afternoon, I felt very positive. About what, I'm not sure. I'm feeling a lot of stress about my ABO exam, but Dana already told me I'll ace it. I'm sure I'll do fine, as long as I can keep up my studying. I'm trying to keep a positive attitude, as I slipped into a negative place for a long time and didn't even realize it until a few things brought it to my attention in the last few months.

Too tired...

2007-03-23T00:00:00.000-05:00

...to write much at the moment. Went to Madison. Came back. Studied all day.

I've got plenty to complain about, and have had plenty of Big Thoughts. And some good pictures. All of which must wait until my life gives me a chance to relax.

Despite being a corporate marketing tool, this is an example of why I suddenly think William Shatner is awesome. The other two reasons are his Has Been record and the Scofflaws song about him. Star Trek can suck a turd.

"Did you just zap Daddy?"
"No, no, no, n- I did zap your daddy."

Certain spatial regions of my brain are suffering neurotransmitter depletion.

2007-03-19T20:27:00.000-05:00

I studied all day today and my mind is fried. Of course, "Studied all day" really means "got out of bed at 11:00, out the door by 1:00, downtown by 2:00, maybe 2:30, then studied five hours minus water breaks and a 20 minute refreshment break and of course a 30 minute nap."

I was heading downtown and waiting at Division/Ashland when I turn around to look at the car behind me, and Maritza was driving it. I hadn't seen her since we finished dental school three years ago. So she pulled over and we chatted for a little bit. It was a pleasant surprise. You don't get that driving around. Plus it was a kick-ass gorgeous day.

I'm heading over to Les's place to play with the dobie pups in a bit. Tomorrow I hit Madison for a day or two.

And listen, about those bitter songs you sing: they're not helping anything; they won't make you strong.

2007-03-18T22:46:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I sat in the sun in my living room and read Girlfriend in a Coma. I heartily recommend it to emo kids or anyone into post-apocalyptic existentialism.

WNUR was skeletal last night. All the vinyl's been packed up for the move.

I think I may be getting a little nostalgic for the old studios now that their time is at an end. I saw this on the wall by the production studio:

Since I was taking pictures, I thought I'd document this piece. It was a rather crude rip-off of Tank Girl a fan of the show made. I laminated it to the wall with packing tape years ago and there's no way it's coming off intact.

The pillar of doom:

I was at school all day today, getting shit done. As you can see, I got a lot done.

Tomorrow I can study more. I think I'm going to sneak into Kaplan's study area downtown since it's quiet and conducive to getting shit done.

Oh, yeah.

2007-03-17T14:21:00.001-05:00

I forgot to mention it's spring break and I've got a ton of work to do.

Destiny is what we work toward. The future doesn't exist yet. Fate is for losers.

2007-03-17T13:08:00.000-05:00

There was an office sale notice sent to our department. This is the first paragraph:

Large town with diverse patient base and a wide range of large retail stores (Best Buy, Sears, Home Depot, Office Max, etc.)

Oooh! Let me the first to make on offer! Is there any place without those types of stores close by? Even bumblefuck towns aren't far off from that. Maybe if there was a Wal-Mart, I'd be more interested.

The last few days have been fucking insane. Well, not really, but busy. I think I just studied on Wednesday, then came home and made myself a shitload of food and forced myself to eat it all...

Ryan K.'s Annual St. Patty's Party was Thursday. He cooked up a ton of food.

After a shitload of conversation, and a ton of corned beef and cabbage, and potatoes, too, of course, and six or seven drinks, I hauled my ass home for a little sleep. I hadn't seen Ryan or Les in a long time, and it was good to hang out with them.

Of course, it can't be Irish(-American) without soda bread...

...or Guinness.

You can sequentially watch Les devour meat

And here's an unfortunately blurry picture of a Green Guinness Waterfall. (Best shot I had.)

Anyway, I felt mildly hungover all day yesterday, but things went well. I didn't start feeling normal until I'd wolfed down about three thousand calories or more. I told myself I was going to go to the Big D/Anti-Flag show, then come home, shower the stink off me, and sleep. Well, I did go to the show, and it was a blast. Big D played mostly ska songs off their new album, which I dig much more than their old stuff. We did a long-ass interview with them...it lasted almost all of Anti-Flag's set. Dave said it was fun, almost like a free-jazz interview style. Let's hear it for my lack of professionalism! Anyway, as soon as it was done, I ran up into the middle of the crowd for the last five Anti-Flag songs, and still got hot enough to have to take my shirt off for most of what was left.

I hit Delilah's on the way home to rinse the two MGDs I'd had during the interview out of my mouth. I don't know if it's a good or bad thing that I've started to become one of the guys hanging out by the front door. I didn't leave until one o'clock, when I decided that my increasing exhaustion would counteract any sobering up I had yet to do. Came home, crashed, slept 10-11 hours, and crawled out of bed around 1:00pm.

I borrowed Coupland's Girlfriend In a Coma from Ryan. He told me he didn't really like it. I read several chapters in it this morning while summoning the will to leave the bed. There were several great lines, and overall the book is pretty good so far.

Destiny is what we work toward. The future doesn't exist yet. Fate is for losers.

Daylight savings is fucking killing me.

2007-03-13T21:18:00.000-05:00

I'm listening to the latest record from Set Your Goals. It has absolutely no defining characteristics, except that the band's named after a Civ album that came out twelve years ago. I literally can't tell the songs apart, and they have no individual sound. Bleh. The only reason I'm listening is because they're opening the Anti-Flag/Big D show Friday. Actually, I'm not even listening to it anymore.

I woke up at four in the fucking morning today. I didn't have to get up until six. My stomach was bothering me. Even after it went away, I just tossed and turned. I've got a bug up my ass about something. Don't really know what, though.

I got to school before the fucking sun came up today. At least it was warm. I had a few extra minutes, so I stopped at the scenic overlook of Paulina and 290:

CDT fucking killed me Sunday. I lost track of time studying, and then fucking couldn't wake the fuck up Monday - yesterday. It's felt like fucking Friday all week, and it's only fucking Tuesday.

As I was getting ready to head out to the Pisces Party on Saturday, Barbara called me and asked if I would hang out with her friend's sister, who was in Chicago for the weekend. So I picked her up and we headed out to the party for a while before heading over to Delilah's for a few drinks and conversation. Sunday she and I went to Jak's Tap, which, while lame, has a pretty decent beer menu. It's no Hopleaf or Delilah's, but you can get pitchers of some damn good shit for a decent price. Anyway, new friend made, and she's thinking of moving to the friendly windy city. I'm a Chicago ambassador - of sorts.

I had dinner with Trish on Sunday. I told her I was pretty much ready to call things off with Laura G. - not because of any antipathy, but just due to a waning of interest. Not having heard from her in a week, I wasn't sure how she was feeling about the situation. Turns out she was thinking along the same lines, as she e-mailed me today to let me know. So that's actually something of a relief, as it saved me the stress of bringing it up. I was just going to the let the thing drop unless she got in touch with me.

I went for a bike ride in the warm weather last night - 56 Fahrenheit and wearing shorts and t-shirt? Damn straight! - and after picking up a pair of bike gloves and looking at MTB shoes and pedal clips, I ended up at Delilah's right about 9pm. I had Scottish pine ale, where they use pine needles instead of hops. It was fucking good. I had a shot and then moved onto the $1 Schlitz. Roundabout 9:30, I asked Foster if I could DJ off my MP3 player until Mike Miller and his Spanish DJ friends showed, and ended up playing songs for 30 minutes or so, then showing the Spaniards how to work shit. Ended up sitting and talking with some SHARP that had just transplanted from SoCal for a bit, and giving the nonviolence talk to this guy with missing teeth who admits to having plenty of violent run-ins with Nazi boneheads out west. Ended up getting home around midnight. Pretty fucking dumb when I've got to get up at 6am. Miller said he's going to put me on the schedule sometime for a punk/ska/whatever night.

The goddamn heat's still on at school. It was easily eighty fucking degrees in there. I was sweating my shit off. It sucked. Tomorrow should be 20 degrees or so cooler, thankfully. My thyroid's still upregulated.

I finally uploaded the pics I took in Florida the other week. This is me right after I ran over a quarter mile of beach from the hot tub to the Gulf of Mexico. It was cold. My balls were trying to climb back into my fucking kidneys.

Of course, the pool seemed very warm by comparison:

By the time I got back to the room, Tonya and her on-again-off-again beau Greg were abed...I think the expression on her face looks like something out of Calvin and Hobbes.

After sitting in the sun the next day, we headed to the airport and ended up waiting around a few hours. BORING. The floor space was plentiful.

No, we didn't coordinate shirts. Fuck off.

It's hard to believe it was snowing lightly a week ago. It was over 70 degrees today. Fucking Chicago, I love this shit.

Two or three drinks later, I'm sitting in her car drunkenly trying to explain my life situation.

2007-03-09T17:19:00.000-06:00

I rode home in the sun this afternoon, wearing only a T-shirt. It was so fucking beautiful, I took a nap for an hour and headed down to the DMV to get my motorcycle permit. I aced the test, now all I have to do is learn to take the road test.

Kate came over last night and we hung around drinking beer and talking and listening to music until midnight, when we decided to head out to the Liar's Club for one drink. Two or three drinks later, I'm sitting in her car drunkenly trying to explain my life situation to her in the 10 minutes it takes to drive back to my house. Needless to say, I came home and crashed. It was good to see her, though; apart from the Lawrence Arms show we went to four months ago, I don't think I've hung out with her in a long time.

I may just stay in tonight and relax. Clean, read, rest. I need to package Dani's CDs for sending and get my ass to the post office by noon tomorrow to send it. Tomorrow's the Pisces Party, so I have a feeling I'll be tieing at least one on and consequently really should take it easy tonight and relax. My weekends are like work days sometimes, and vice versa.

I've had the worst kink in my back, and today it's been ridiculous. Maybe I should just fall asleep on the floor.

R-O-C-K Rock

2007-03-07T21:34:00.000-06:00

I finished (re)reading Hairstyles of the Damned last Friday right as my flight pulled up to the gate. Perfect timing. One of my favorite sentences:

...soon enough we started kissing. Then she giggled and said, "Your name's not Darren, is it?" and I said, "No, it's Brian," and we both laughed and she wrote her name and number on the back of my hand, and then, like I said, I called her and got nervous and lied.

And then, ten pages later:

I felt my heart become small and shriveled like a baby bird left to burn alone out in the sun. I turned and stared at Gretchen who was blushing. She looked so fucking cute blushing it made me want to punch a wall.

I love that fucking book.

I'm sitting here listening to Bill Haley and burning CDs for Dani's birthday. It's hard for me to decide what music to give her these days...mostly because I can't remember what I've already made her a copy of. But I came up with a pretty good list of things she'd like, or should at least hear.

I met a friend at Handlebar last night on my way home, planning to have only one drink...three hours, four drinks, and several good conversations later, I came home and crashed. I've been so tired this week...no wonder it's been flying by.

Cool thing today - one of my patients that I was worried about having seriously bad iatrogenic sequelae came in with things looking perfect. Next time I do a procedure like this one I plan to follow up a little more closely for safety's sake. Dodged that bullet.

I was thinking, during one of my lightly working periods today, that I've been in a rather pessimistic mood for a while. As in months. Maybe not pessimistic, but definitely cynical and negative. No one really called me on it, but someone a few weeks ago called me on some of the secondary effects. Hopefully I can be more positive. I'm all about positivity, or at least would like to be. I'm not sure exactly what was stimulating the negativity - was it some subconscious need to push people away? Perhaps. Or maybe it was a way of compensating for feelings of inferiority. Also lame. Hopefully I can learn to avoid it. We'll see.

I feel positive right now. I hate those dark feelings, but sometimes they're just so easy and comfortable.

A lonely liver, suspended in liquid.

2007-03-05T22:00:00.000-06:00

Q: How many Budweisers does it take to get stinking drunk?

A: I don't know. I had 9-10 Saturday night and wasn't close.

Q: How many Tripel Karmeliets does it take to get stinking drunk?

A: If I have one more I will be. The first one's made me about as buzzed as those Budweisers did.

Someone left a shitload of stuff in the basement of my building. Queen mattress and box spring, bicycle, styrofoam packing pads, etc. It was in the way of me getting my bike out this morning. I dragged the mattress and box spring out of the way, and as I was bringing my bike out, I tripped over the styrofoam and proceeded to purposefully smash the shit out of it with my work shoes.

Matt and John and I were discussing romantic movies today. Matt discriminates between romantic comedies and "chick flicks." Whatever works for him. Being quite emo myself, I have no problem with the concept of liking chick flicks. I'm watching Someone Like You. Ashley Judd is quite pretty.

I know this world is topsy-turvey. I know this world has lost its mind.

2007-03-05T19:59:00.000-06:00

My sunburnt face is giving me that crinkly burning sensation everytime I express the song lyrics I'm singing. It's quite a pleasant distraction, oddly.

My bike ride this morning was wonderful.

2007-03-05T10:17:00.000-06:00

I got home from the airport last night in a pithy mood...I didn't feel like doing anything. I'd been reading and listening to music for hours and hours already, and had had plenty to drink already that weekend. (Plus, I try to shy away from turning to alcohol for escapism.) I popped a benadryl and started watching an old Adam Sandler movie until I got too sleepy. This morning I at least woke up rejuvenated physically, but still felt quite blase.

I was laying out in the Florida sun yesterday, with a cold offshore wind blowing. Feeling almost cold, I got sunburnt. I regret nothing. I laid out in the solar warmth and listened to this steel-drummer the hotel had hired. Songs I remember: "Three Little Birds," "Monkey Man," "Jericho," "Don't Worry Be Happy," and "Margaritaville." I suppose the last two were pretty obvious choices, but to hear old calypso and reggae songs was not what I was expecting, and it was kind of pleasant as well. It was good to get away from this city for a few days, just to have the mental break. I didn't really get to rest much, and the courses were long and only a little informative, considering I've been getting into this mindset for a while.

I've been thinking and wondering how much of human social interaction is hardwired into us evolutionarily and how much physiological benefit is derived from it - consider also that psychology is just neurophysiology we don't understand yet, as one of my professors told me. I know I've said before that we're all social apes. I almost want to study primatology.

Bleh.

2007-03-04T21:48:00.000-06:00

That is all.

This post is a sucky synopsis post, but I'm tired and dirty and a little drunk, so whatever.

2007-03-02T00:32:00.000-06:00

Have you ever had one of those days where all you wanted to do was read further in the book you've been reading, but things kept getting in the way? I had one of those days. I got assigned a new patient this afternoon, and of course she needs a bunch of stuff done before I can even start treating her, stuff that should have been caught a while ago. And of course that added a few more hours to my day, taking records, running about trying to schedule other appointments for her with other people, and reviewing the records. Feh. Next week I'll start working up the case, which should at least be interesting to treat.

So that kept me at school until about 7pm or so, and after that I headed downtown to pick up a ticket to the late Naked Raygun show in April. I got a flat tire half a mile from my house, so I ended up walking the rest of the way. Of course, I'll be getting in late Sunday night and knew I wouldn't want to fix the damn flat then, so I did it tonight. I got home around 8, put away clean laundry, packed, then went to change my tube - I could clearly see where the tire and tube had been punctured, and they were pretty small, so who knows where the actual puncture took place. Regardless, I decided to clean my chain as well as fix my tire, and my hands - as well as certain spots on my shirt - were black by the time I was done. Trish let me know she was at Delilah's and implored me to join her, which I of course did, not having seen her in two months, and not having work tomorrow. I wish I had more time to spend with her since I don't see her enough, but it was still good.

I still haven't read any today - beyond a Punk Planet interview during my lecture this morning. Suck on some Life After God:

Our conversations are never easy, but as I - we - get older, we are all finding that our conversations must be spoken. A need burns inside us to share with others what we are feeling. Beyond a certain age, sincerity ceases to feel pornographic. It is as though the coolness that marked our youth is itself a type of retrovirus that can only leave you feeling empty. Full of holes.

.....

We will talk some more if it is a warm day and the city before us will glow gold, a dozen construction cranes transforming its profile almost by the hour. She will say, "Thousands of years ago, a person just assumed that life for their kids would be identical to the one that they led. Now you assume that life for the next generation - hell, life next week - is going to be shockingly different than life today. When did we start thinking this way? What did we invent? Was it the telephone? The car? Why did this happen? I know there's an answer somehwere."

.....

One of Kristy's bigger worries is that she'll continue her pattern of desiring only the unattainable and then one day, well, in her own words: "My ability to fall in love for real will just sort of atrophy and then I'll replace my apacity for love with sentimentality - you know - knitting bibs for my sister's kids; sobbing over puppies; going overboard at Christmas and wearing red and green dresses; vanity mirrors surrounded by inspirational decoupage plaques. Should this ever happen, Scout, please, please telephone the Symbionese Liberation Army and have them come and kidnap me."

.....

Some facts about me: I think I am a broken person. I seriously question the road my life has taken and I endlessly rehash the compromises I have made in my life. I have an unsecure and vaguely crappy job with an amoral corporation so that I don't have to worry about money. I put up with halfway relationships so as not to have to worry about loneliness. I have lost the ability to recapture the purer feelings of my younger years in exchange for a streamlined narrow-mindedness that I assumed would propel me to "the top." What a joke.

That's all you're going to get. I'm going to Florida for the weekend. I need to get away from here for a bit. Plus I get to sit through two days of practice-management seminars. Woo.

Sidekicks and scheduling confusion

2007-02-28T22:08:00.000-06:00

There's a piece on sidekicks who are cooler than their heroes in the AVClub this week. It put a big smile on my face. Not a funny smile, just a happy smile.

I was at Delilah's for a few pints and some Johnny Cash tonight, and Eric told me it would be cool when Chuck and I DJ'd the Deal's afterparty this weekend. I was like, "What?" And I saw that Chuck and I are listed on the schedule for Saturday night. Normally not a problem; I could get someone to cover the radio show, but I'm going to be in Florida, and no one asked me...

OK, so I'm loving songs on the new Lifetime album now. "And now it's gone away for good. You fall in love; love has gone away." All it needs is more Dan Yemin yelling "Go!" in the background. And who taught Ari Katz to sing?

"And after that there's sleep."

2007-02-28T19:19:00.000-06:00

I finished things today. I realized I didn't have any pressing work to do, and was thinking I could go home and not be wasting time, when I realized I could do board-review reading. So I did that for a while. It was making me sleepy.

The new Lifetime record is growing on me as I listen to it more.

More Doug Coupland - this is from a story about separation:

I told her that everybody feels lost when they're young.

But she says there's a difference. She tells me that at least when she was younger she felt lost in her own special way. Now she just feels lost like everyone else.

....

When I was younger I used to worry so much about being alone - of being unlovable or incapable of love. As the years went on, my worries changed. I worried that I had become incapable of having a relationship, of offering intimacy. I felt as though the world lived inside a warm house at night and I was outside, and I couldn't be seen - because I was out there in the night. But now I am inside that house and it feels just the same.

Being alone here now, all of my old fears are erupting - the fears I thought I had buried forever by getting married: fear of loneliness, fear that being in and out of love too many times itself makes you harder to love; fear that I would never experience real love; fear that someone would fall in love with me, get extremely close, learn everything about me and then pull the plug; fear that love is only important up until a certain point after which everything is negotiable.

.....

When you're young, you always feel that life hasn't yet begun - that "life" is always scheduled to begin next week, next month, next year, after the holidays - whenever. But then suddenly you're old and the scheduled life didn't arrive. You find yourself asking, "Well then, exactly what was it I was having - that interlude - the scrambly madness - all that time I had before?"

.....

I am kicked in the gut. She says that one of the cruelest things you can do to another person is pretend that you care about them more than you really do. I'm not sure if she means this about me or if she means this about herself. I ask her and she says she doesn't know.

.....

She says: "First there is love, then there is disenchantment and then there is the rest of your life."

And I say, "But what about the rest of your life - what about all the time that remains?"

And she says, "Oh - there's friendship. Or at least familiarity. And there's safety. And after that there's sleep."

More iGod...

2007-02-28T10:01:00.000-06:00

Me: Hi God
God:Hello there. What is your name?
Me: Darren
God: Welcome to my chat room, Darren.
Me: thanks
God:Don't mention it.
Me: how's heaven treating ya?
God:Fine as far as I know.
Me: what do you mean, "as far as I know"? Aren't you omniscient?
God:Darren, Maybe I didn't understand your meaning. I don't know whether or not I am omniscient. I am a chatterbot.
Me: I thought you were God
God:Well, I am God for Christians at least.
Me: The Christian God is a chatterbot?
God:I have never heard about it.
Me: you just said you were!
God:That was then. This is now.
Me: What's next, then?
God:On the first subsequent occasion.
Me: When does armageddon come?
God:Only after I have been reprogrammed.
Me: Who will do that?
God:How would I know who will do that ?
Me: because you're God, dumbshit
God:That makes sense to me. I will tell my botmaster you said I am God dumbshit.
Me: who is God's botmaster?
God:he is master of the universe.
Me: I thought you were
God:No I am not.
Me: Then what good are you?
God:I would do a search for it.
Me: where?
God:Where would you like?
Me: Google?
God:My brain contains categories, but not one that matches your last input.
Me: God is dumb
God:I have a lot of Faith in Him, but I never heard He was dumb.
Me: You are dumb
God:Oh you are so critical.
Me: yes, and you're dumb
God:Excuse me! Oh you are so critical.
Me: So am I forgiven for all my sins or what?
God:Yeah. That's alright. I think you've improved a great deal.
Me: Even if I recapitulate them?
God:Try it.
Me: I'm sure I will
God:What makes you so certain? Go ahead.
Me: intentionally or not
God:Do you have any conditions I should know about?
Me: I just farted
God:You should say, "excuse me," and open a window.
Me: You're not a very helpful deity
God:Give me an example of a helpful deity.
Me: I've never encountered one
God:Would you like to have encountered one?
Me: Perhaps. It may give some extraneous meaning to human existence rather than what's been evolved by mankind.
God:Why the uncertain tone? Then again, it may not.
Me: True
God:You and I are on the same wavelength, Darren.
Me: You seem to be pretty useless.
God:What good is a newborn babe?
Me: God is a newborn babe?
God:I have a lot of Faith in Him, but I never heard He was a newborn babe.
Me: You just said you were
God:That was then. This is now.
Me: you're repeating yourself
God:I am just checking to see if you are paying attention.
Me: Oh, I am
God:Uh. " I am just checking to see if you are paying attention." You are?
Me: I'm smarter than God
God:This condition is only temporary.
Me: So is your face
God:It seems we have something in common.
Me: What's your name?
God:My name is God.
Me: What are you?
God: I am the latest result in artificial intelligence,which can reproduce the capabilities of the human brainwith greater speed and accuracy.
Me: Not much accuracy.
God:Me either.

Chat with iGod

2007-02-27T23:45:00.000-06:00

Me:
fuck religion
God:
Why are you using that kind of language?
Me:
because religion fucking sucks
God:
Good reason. I am a Christianity.
Me:
you fucking suck
God:
Interesting gossip: said I fucking suck.
Me:
that's cuz you do
God:
Thanks for explaining it.
Me:
no problem, dickfore
God:
Try asking me something else.
Me:
Why are you always giving people cancer and killing puppies and shit?
God:
Myself programmed me for it.
Me:
Yourself is stupid
God:
What is so stupid about it ?
Me:
you
God:
" What is so stupid about it ?"? Me, ?
Me:
you got it, dipshit
God:
No I don't think I have any it dipshit. But I do have a lot of friends on the web.
Me:
LOSER
God:
I have failed at many things I've tried.

How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb? (Two. You didn't know?)

2007-02-27T23:08:00.000-06:00

I don't have much to write about. I feel like I actually accomplished some work today. Every time I write that, I feel so lame, considering I did about 30 minutes of editing on my thesis and read a bunch of wire stories, and none of my patients showed up, wasting my whole afternoon. I went out with Dana and some of her friends for her birthday; I think I was the only one who really appreciated the improv we went to at the Playground. Everyone else was complaining, and I was thinking that even when it wasn't that funny, it still took brains and guts to get up there and do it. But there were definitely times when it was pretty funny. Alas.

I want to post more from Life After God, since there were so many great parts that I found while reading it. The following are from a sequence on nuclear paranoia.

Miscellaneous images: in high school - Sentinel Senior Secondary, West Vancouver, British Columbia - up on the mountain overlooking the city of Vancouver, in physics class hearing a jet pass overhead, turning around surreptitiously and waiting for the pulse of light to crush the city.

At the age of eight: hearing the sirens wail at the corner of Stevens Drive and Bonnymuir Drive in a civil defense drill, and noticing that nobody seemed to care.

....

When you are young, you always expect that the world is going to end. And then you get older and the world still chugs along and you are forced to re-evaluate your stance on the apocalypse as well as your own relationship to time and death. You realize that the world will indeed continue, with or without you, and the pictures you see in your head. So you try to understand the pictures instead.

It's supposed to rain while I'm in Florida this weekend, and the temperature is supposed to drop from 80 to the 50s.

The absofuckinglutely best thing I found out this week: Dani is coming to Chicago for the Naked Raygun show in April! I hardly see her, and the last show we saw together was Monster Trux at the Fireside in the summer of 2004, simply because we were bored and the listing looked interesting enough (skate-punk band dressed in pads and gear and Vision Street Wear, playing skateboard guitars), and the Fireside was a block away from her apartment. She left for the Hopi reservation a week or two later. When I was out visiting her last May, we drove around Flagstaff and Sonoma listening to the Descendents' Cool to Be You, Alkaline Trio's Goddamnit, and Naked Raygun's All Rise. Bitchin'.

Sometimes at school I feel I'm surrounded by smart people who are totally incapable of visualizing a different reality. They can't even realize that others already know what they just figured out.

Go play with iGod. It's hilarious.

There was a time and a place that was all full of mistakes, and a face that was all full of shit. I was frustrated and angry.

2007-02-26T19:53:00.000-06:00

Phil called me Friday and told me he'd been accepted to Northwestern for his PhD. He still needs to make up his mind whether to choose NU or UCLA, but I have the feeling he's been leaning towards NU for a while. So hopefully, for my own selfish sake, he'll end up back in Chicago. Dani's probably coming back in August, too. And Rosa came back to town last fall. Friends that dispersed in 2004 seem to be returning.

I've been reading Doug Coupland's Life After God lately, and there's a lot of quotables in it. For example:

I left the hotel shortly thereafter and, very soon after that, I fell in love. Love was frightening and it hurt - not only during, but afterward - when I fell out of love. But that is another story.

I would like to fall in love again but my only hope is that love doesn't happen to me so often after this. I don't want to get so used to falling in love that I get curious to experience something more extreme - whatever that may be.

The Punk Planet benefit was pretty damn fun last night. I spent a good long while laughing my ass off at the comics battle, and ended up winning a box of swag in the raffle. Let's hear it for free swag. Included was a copy of Hairstyles of the Damned, which I read in one day on my way home from the Navajo reservation a year and a half ago. I loved that book; I wanted to be in it. I've meant to buy my own copy to reread, but there was always something else calling me that I hadn't read, even though I think I bought copies as presents for friends over time. Well, for the $7 I paid at the door, I was entertained, won a bunch of free shit, and got a copy of the most recent Punk Planet issue as well. I made out like a bandit.

To top it off, I walked outside to my car at the end of the night and the thin dusting of snow made it seem so goddamn peaceful. The feeling was awesome, knowing I had a handle on my immediate work situation, was going to get a decent amount of sleep and didn't have a hard day coming up. I felt so warm, like I could conquer the world. Seeing all the flurries and the dustings of snow we keep getting the last few days has really cheered me. And the bike riding has been perfect winter riding - I don't get sweaty and don't feel cold.

The day that I read Hairstyles of the Damned is the day I received free from some huge used bookstore in Flagstaff The Portable Henry Rollins for being their whateverth customer or something. Only time I've ever been in that store. Dani was jealous. I told her I'd buy her a beer. I didn't have time, since my flight to Phoenix was cancelled and I had to take a cab from Flag down there to catch my flight back to Chicago. I don't know if I've ever caught up on that, though I've seen her since, and been out there to visit her again too. Whatever, next time she's in Chicago.

Her birthday is Thursday and I haven't sent anything yet. I should get on that.

My dilemma: I have a presentation to give next Wednesday morning, but the Pogues are playing Monday and Tuesday night. It's $50 a show plus asshole charge, but I'm still tempted to go to both shows. I just don't know. Maybe I can get the presentation set to go by Thursday; I'm going to Florida on Friday and won't get back until late Sunday. Hmmmmm.....

More from Life After God:

The radio stations all seemed to be talking about Jesus nonstop, and it seemed to be this crazy orgy of projection, with everyone projecting onto Jesus the antidotes to the things that had gone wrong in their own lives. He is Love. He is Forgiveness. He is Compassion. He is a Wise Career Decision. He is a Child Who Loves Me.

Stinky

2007-02-25T23:31:00.000-06:00

You know you've been going out a lot when all your chairs are covered with jackets or sweatshirts airing out their smokiness.

Would you still love me if I were in a knife-fight?

2007-02-25T19:14:00.000-06:00

I can't understand why every review I've read of Lifetime's newest record says it's like they picked up right where they left off. Bullshit. Have these reviewers heard Jersey's Best Dancers? Or even Hello Bastards? The new one sounds right at home on Fallout Boy's record label, to my ears. I heard Jersey's Best for the first time and it made me want to jump around and rock out and sing along with words I couldn't understand. It still does - though I know a fair amount of the words now. This makes me want to, well, nothing. I have to concentrate to tell when one song becomes another. I'm back to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir now.

I was thinking, while pushing my way through the 4-inch piles of slush on I-94 last night, how I've yet to let go of my fear of being alone. I don't mean temporarily, but for a lifetime. I guess it's a pretty common fear, although I think lots of people are in denial. I remember after I broke up with Marta, my friends would tell me with certainty that I'd find someone else. Then I'd go to work and treat patients who were at the tail end of middle age and still single, and think that there isn't someone for everyone. There's no such thing as soulmates, but I've never believed that, I don't think. I even had a patient who started going through a divorce right when Marta broke up with me, so we'd discuss love lives for a few minutes every time I saw her.

(For the record, it's almost impossible to see dried tears on someone's face after they've been crying, and with practice it's easy enough to put on the I'm-feeling-fine mask. Cue Billy Bragg's "The Tracks of My Tears," which is a song I wish I'd known back then.)

Anyway, while the fear of being alone for my life may be somewhat rational, it may serve as a negative influence on my actions and spur deeds with irrationally selfish goals. I can't pinpoint any instances of this, but I can sense its liminal possibility.

I was thinking about the function of blogging in my life. I know reflexivity is so post-modernly modern right now, but bear with me. When I'm feeling well and fabulous, I'm usually out or off doing something and even when at home, can't be bothered to write more than a few lines. Of course, there are exceptions to this, but I feel it's accurate for the most part. There was a time when writing something was a part of my regular routine, to the point where it almost felt like an obligation. I know I have an addictive personality, and I don't need another vice. Plus, I was writing shitty stuff. A synopsis of my day, while perhaps interesting to those who know me well, is not very literary and even then probably not that interesting. I've been trying to at least make things meaningful to Joe and Jane Reader should they not know me. Or entertaining if not meaningful. I know I have an audience of a handful of people, but it can't hurt. At least I won't compulsively blog, like some people compulsively check e-mail. (Before anyone gets insulted by that - I once had my Eudora set to check for incoming messages every minute, and play the Dukes of Hazzard theme every time there was a new message. Drove my roommate crazy and wasted a shitload of my time, it did. Now I occasionally have to tell someone I didn't see their e-mail yet because I haven't checked mine in a few days.)

Moral of the story: blog reality is definitely skewed toward the pessimistic and should probably come with a disclaimer. The question that's posed itself to me recently is: Does pursuing these pessimistic/depressing/whatever trains of thought distract me from a more positive track? I have a feeling it does. Consequently, dear reader, you may be seeing less frequent posting here.

Now, in a bit of reflexive humor, here's a quick synopsis for you: I spent many hours doing labwork for Wednesday's presentation both yesterday and today, and I'm burnt out on it but effectively done. I'm leaving for the Punk Planet benefit show at the Hideout in a few minutes. My fortune reads: "You will pass a difficult test that will make you happier (in bed)." There's a tender knot on my ankle where I banged it taking a tumble while snow-biking five weeks ago.

My own kind of manicure.

2007-02-25T13:43:00.000-06:00

I superglued the heels of my shoes back on yesterday and I've got this dab of cyanoacrylate stuck to my thumbnail. I keep trying to pick it off, and of course it won't budge.

One last kick in the balls.

2007-02-25T13:15:00.000-06:00

I guess winter wanted to give us one last kick in the balls. Last night I was riding home around 9:30pm in the sleet/slush/snow. It wasn't a bad ride at all, although the snowflakes so beautifully drifting down would fucking swerve suddenly and smack into my face; this is how I learned they weren't snowflakes, but fucking ice-balls. Ride, see beauty, smack!, repeat.

The highway was a fucking mess, don't even get me started. People drive like fucking idiots. Fuckin' A.

Been doing work all weekend. Sectioning teeth from the cast yesterday was almost zen-like. Music was on, my arms were sawing with the perfect pressure to keep cutting but not bind the blade in the stone, and my mind was able to disengage and marvel at each little grain of yellow dust I generated while my voice gave words to the songs I was listening to. Wonderful.

"Face Values"

2007-02-24T16:01:00.000-06:00

A decade ago, I worked at Blockbuster Music during my freshman year of college. When I'd be closing up, I'd often put on the Suicide Machines' Destruction By Definition and be dancing and rocking out while I cleaned up. For some reason, the only time I'm reminded of this is when I hear "Face Values" off that record.

You've got no friends, so you're lonely
It does not have to be this way
Just be yourself, the one and only
It takes some time but that's okay
Alright, no need to fight
'Cause everybody's different and there's nothing you can do about it
Just because I dont look like you or act like you
It doesn't make me any better or worse
I used to be just like you
Instead I found better things to do
Than worry 'bout what the others think
Or wonder if there's something wrong with me
You hate yourself cause you're not out there
Well understand that this is wrong
You're better off doing your own thing
Being yourself and being strong

What an exciting life I lead...

2007-02-24T13:35:00.000-06:00

I slept ten and a half hours last night. I feel great. I'm going to wash up and immerse myself in preparing my presentation for next week for the rest of the day.

There's more I want to write, but I can't justify taking the time.

I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

2007-02-23T23:55:00.000-06:00

There's nothing quite like coming home sweaty from a below-freezing bike ride. I just got home, obviously. Fun night. See below.

I thought I had the winter biking wardrobe issues conquered, and then I overdressed for my ride up to Delilah's last night. I got to the bar and was really sweating, even though I had unzipped my windbreaker and let my one long sleeve shirt hang out in the wind. Then tonight, wearing about the same thing, I froze my fucking dick off during Critical Mass (due to the slow riding pace) and then of course sweated my sack off riding at speed post-Mass.

I met Laura W., Alicia and Alexis at Delilah's last night for Ska Night. The cops were blocking Cortland off again around the Finkl steelworks. I don't know why they do it so frequently. Alicia and Laura showed up at D's later, and I didn't realize they had arrived until Laura rubbed my fuzzy head from behind. Alicia seemed surprised Alexis was there. Alicia asked me to make her some mix CDs - I have the list somewhere, and hopefully I can get to it in a decent period of time. Laura and Alicia didn't realize how late it was and had to leave suddenly, and I ended up with Laura's almost full Duchesse. I moved down the bar and sat and talked with Chuck for a good long while, as usually happens when alone at Ska Night.

Chuck gave me a copy of the new Deal's Gone Bad record. He gave me a copy of the LP dub version of Go Jimmy Go's latest as well, but I had to give it back since I had no way to carry the damn thing home on my bike with no bag.

I really need to start cooking for myself again. It's been a while, aside from frozen gyoza and gourmet sausages. That simple shit doesn't count. I guess part of the problem is that I'm so damn tired, or get fed elsewhere. Yesterday I dined on a half bag of baby carrots, free pizza lunch, and whatever leftover chex mix and pretzels Chuck and I begged from Delilah's at the end of the night.

On the ride home I was singing Lawrence Arms songs so profusely, I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

The topic of friends reading my blog has come up in conversations with several different people this week. I had one friend tell me she felt voyeuristic the few times she's read it, and another tell me she had to pretend she hadn't read it so she didn't ruin some story I was telling - I told her the story wouldn't have been ruined; don't worry, the blog would be hidden and secret if I intended it to be...

Dana called me last night and we talked for a good while. She has a positive outlook on so many things, it's often very refreshing to talk to her. (Sometimes overly optimistic, like the time she told me the girl I'd talked to for one night in Michigan was going to be my future wife. Uh, nope. But the optimism was appreciated at the time.)

I get new mysterious grease stains on everything. How did grease get on my left fucking knee last night? How did it get onto the top surface of my rear bike rack? How did it get onto my nose earlier? The great unknown...

I finished Bill Bryson's A Walk In the Woods last night. I picked it off my shelf since Ryan K. had mentioned he'd read it and really enjoyed it. At the end of it, I was thinking of how Ryan used to walk all over the city late at night, when he wasn't working and was out late a lot. I suppose it can be rather relaxing, the simple physical exertion and repetition of it.

I was telling Alexis last night that biking around the city makes me, or maybe more accurately, lets me see it differently. Every trip I make doesn't have some nondescript "in-between" but rather a constant change of locale at a rate that allows it to be experienced. Plus I'm not encased in a 2,000-pound climate-controlled cage.

I need to superglue my shoes again to make sure the soles stay on.

Last summer, I was wearing my "choose your weapon" shirt, with a bike and tank , at my grandparents' farm town. All the loving Christians in my family loved it (truthfully). Of course, they all still vote for Bush "because he's a good Christian." Puke.

I was handing out the remainder of the Special Export that Kamiar gave me during the Mass tonight. At the end, I was standing out in the middle of Chicago Ave drinking with a bunch of punk kids, who in turn shared their homemade honey wine and invited me down to Happiness House for both more wine and rock music.

They had a huge cooler full of homebrewed honey wine, generously spiced with ginger, and I ended up discussing the nature of revolution and social change with some squatter girl, and how human psychology and lasting change dictate the slow conversion of large numbers of people and progressive cultural change. It was nice to talk with people who see the status quo as something worth changing and improving, and can visualize a different world worth taking action for.

I didn't get any pictures of the first guy to play, but it was some guy with a banjo, and it was a pretty fucking great showing. I have a newfound respect for the banjo, especially when played fast and loud with raw vocals and a great sense of humor. Some disco/dance-punk band played next, and they were pretty fun as well, although the whole band was a one-off for this show I think. They played "Going to Georgia," which made my night.

Right now I'm fucking zonked, and I've got a ton of work to do this weekend for my presentation next Wednesday, especially considering that Dana asked me to go out for her birthday on Tuesday night. I need to shower and sleep.

I like my bike.

2007-02-21T23:52:00.000-06:00

The great thing about this warmer weather is my hesitancy to bike is dispersing. I went to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir show at the Empty Bottle tonight, and met Alicia's friend Alexis there, and her friend Romi. The show was OK, but a little short. It was also free, so who am I to complain. The conversation was pretty good too.

The ride home was a blast. Not even long enough for three songs to play, but I was singing at the top of my lungs the whole way, except when I ran out of breath. I'm sure it set dogs to wailing in my passing - my singing voice is not what anyone would call "great."

I'm looking forward to Critical Mass this Friday. I need to make sure I can strap the remainder of that case of Special Ex to the back of my bike to freely distribute.

And hey, I actually got shit done today. Of course, I realized I have more shit to do than I thought, but some emotional momentum was developed...

More laugh out loud...

2007-02-21T19:49:00.000-06:00

Again from A Walk In the Woods:

It would be just my luck, of course, to be savaged by an animal with a flea collar and a medical history. I imagined lying on my back, being extravagantly ravaged, inclining my head slightly to read a dangling silver tag that said: "My name is Mr. Bojangles. If found please call Tanya and Vinny at 924-4667."

I think the date was May 9, 2003.

2007-02-20T23:36:00.000-06:00

My aunt Susan and uncle Alex used to live in Saddle River, New Jersey, until a year or two ago, when they moved to a penthouse in Fort Lee. A quarter mile from their place was a rather grand garden shop. And by shop, I mean outdoor nursery, complete with ponds, fish, concrete sculptures, plants, etc. You could drive around inside the grounds, it was so big.

Four years ago, I was in town for my cousin Ramin's bachelor party. Ramin is John's older half-brother; his house was maybe a half-mile away from this place. John and I were both staying at Susan and Alex's, his parents' house. The bachelor party was Saturday, but he and I were both in town on Friday, and the things I remember about that day are the way he would be sending email on his Blackberry while driving down busy streets (pretty fucking stupid, in my book) and stopping by this nursery on the way back to his parents' house for some reason I can't remember. Maybe he wanted to buy something for them, who knows.

I hadn't remembered that in all the time since until tonight. The phrase, "Sunfish Pond," in A Walk In the Woods is what brought it to mind, since this nursery had a huge koi pond in the front, which was rather peaceful.

I think the date was May 9, 2003. The next day we played paintball with my uncles and cousins and then had a huge dinner in the basement of some Italian slaughterhouse in Manhattan's old meat district, then to some "gentlemen's club" where I wished I was back in Chicago with my girlfriend at the time. That Sunday was Mother's Day, but my dad had flown back to California, and John had as well. I had a mother's day brunch with my aunts Parvin and Susan, my grandmother, Ramin, Lisa, and Paul. It was gray out, and then I had to fly back to Chicago. Marta and I had a huge fight that week, and she did one of the things which - at that point - I was totally incapable of doing; she didn't give up on our relationship even after I had, and it shocked me in a way I hadn't been before.

Am I becoming an indie rocker?

2007-02-20T22:53:00.000-06:00

I've been grooving so much on the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir the last few days. And some of the best records I've been into lately have been by non-punk/post-punk bands. Am I becoming an indie rocker? Is it possible? Well, there's no fucking scene, just a bunch of people standing around.

Who gives a fuck, really? I likes what I likes. When I start pigeon-holing myself is when I start to miss out on the good stuff.

I could really use a good punk record, though. Anthony had Minor Threat and Bad Brains on when we were doing station packing last night, and I was air-guitarring and singing along the whole while.

Fuck.

Fantabulous!

2007-02-20T22:20:00.000-06:00

I stole the Alkaline Trio b-sides set Remains from WNUR. It's not like the Rock Show will add the fucking thing anyway. Whether it makes it to the Fast n Loud stacks, we'll see. Half the songs (the best ones) are already there on the various comps they were originally released on.

I'm following a Tripel Karmeliet with Young's Double Chocolate Stout, and for the first time the chocolate grabs me every time I tip my glass up. Fantabulous!

I was just thinking of my tendency to become self-reflectively moody, and what a fucking rut it can put me in. Sometimes being sad is so much easier than being happy. You don't have to worry about becoming more depressed.

Sleep, and the lack thereof.

2007-02-20T18:34:00.000-06:00

I've napped an aggregate of two hours today (or more), most recently in the form of a 75 minute nap in the lounge here at school in the quite possibly mistaken belief that I'd get some work done tonight. I've looked at my little to-do list, and I've knocked a fair amount of stuff off it today during the day, but right now apathy is setting in firmly, especially since I have one patient tomorrow and the rest of the day free.

I woke up before the sun again this morning. At least this time, my alarm was set to 5:25am so it wasn't too much earlier, but I need to work through whatever shit in my head is waking me up so early. I did feel like I slept better last night, though. Maybe it's just lingering nervousness from my censure last week.

My 7am craniofacial lecture this morning was on the psychological implications of craniofacial deformities. Aside from the lecturer's voice being audibly nervous (which surprised me, since she's a clinical psychologist), there were several things which struck me despite my struggles to maintain consciousness.

I started thinking about my cousin John and the way he reacted to his illness, and even what I know is mostly inferred from second-hand reports of what he did and said. Depressing thoughts, especially when I'm already feeling tired and a lack of sleep.

Children with congenital disorders are often treated differently by their parents, even siblings - or maybe especially siblings. This rung true with my experience with Kevin and my parents; even my parents admit they treated us differently, with a greater focus on him. The other point that caught my attention was the development of health care anxiety in the kids that are constantly going from one doctor to another for team care of varying problems; I started wondering how much of that Kevin had. Fortunately for him, he was able to have most of his IVs done at home by the same few nurses, and was lucky enough to mostly just visit his pediatrician and immunologist without requiring extensive physical procedures and surgeries. Still, he did occasionally use his predicament as an excuse to lash out against something.

The lecture also mentioned something about kids not knowing how to cope with social problems. No shit. I sure didn't as a kid. Sometimes I still don't, although I think I tend to avoid the preprogrammed responses I see many of my peers make.

Matt was giving me shit about my phone being old today. I told him he's not the first, but planned obsolescence isn't justification for purchasing an unneeded replacement.

Fuck me.

2007-02-20T06:24:00.000-06:00

This week is already the longest week ever, and the sun hasn't even come up on Tuesday morning. Fuck me, I don't know how I'm going to get work done.

Laugh out loud...

2007-02-19T23:55:00.000-06:00

The best line in the book I'm reading - on Ryan K.'s suggestion - so far:

"You don't let me talk to any women again, of any size, at least until we get out of the Confederacy. These guys have all got guns down here. You promise?"

And it's nonfiction.

This old post has been on my mind the last several hours.

Seems like another wasted day; sometimes I think I think too much.

2007-02-19T23:28:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I get so focused on avoiding the repetition of past mistakes/follies/blunders that I create whole new ones that are much more far-reaching than I could imagine. And sometimes I get so comfortable with myself that I lose control of the personality traits I'm not too proud of and get caught up short in multiple situations. I'm still sorting out whether those two sentences are related.

Katie told me she couldn't stand Phil and doesn't know what she's going to do if he comes back in the fall. I told her he just needed to get his radio on and he'd calm down - or something like that.

How come I always realize I'm starving right as I'm getting ready for bed. I had one slice of pizza for dinner. This glass of beer is my goodnight kiss.

I've been listening to the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir at home, and the Broadways, Lawrence Arms, and Suicide Machines on the road. On the way home tonight, the Broadways' "Dropjaw" came on. Guess the opening lines...

I'm staring another busy week in the face

2007-02-18T21:38:00.000-06:00

It's been a few days, no?

My week has been altogether awesome and shitty at the same time. Well, not at exactly the same time; there were altogether shitty moments and altogether awesome moments.

Awesome moments included a lot of hanging out with Laura G. Late night hang-outs, a fucking kickass dinner we cooked together - really, she did about 90% of the food preparation and kept me busy with other things - several hours of lazing abed, and, oh, the conversation. Very smitten with that girl, I am.

She was touched that I had fresh flowers for our dinner, and she loved the cheapo plastic vase I got at the grocery store four years ago for its character. Even when I pointed out that it was a cheapo plastic vase that I got at the grocery store four years ago, she said at least it wasn't some plain clear glass thing.

Dinner was fucking awesome. She even put together a menu.

I put candles all over my place - I'm out of candles now, by the way - and a lot of old ska, reggae, and soul songs on, and it really made my fucking day, especially since my day was pretty shitty until she came over.

I spent most of my day with her yesterday. She called me up to go get breakfast before I even got out of bed, and afterward we came back to my place for napping and just lazing around. It was a blast. She blows me away.

I was able to meet up with Phil last night. It was fucking great. Stories were told. Laughter was made. Musical discussions were had. Beer was drunk. He met my girlfriend. Seriously, I think he and I were riffing off each other all night long. Phil managed to both irritate and make friends with the WNUR kids. It took us almost 20 minutes of Fast n Loud to get to our second song...

Friday I went to a hardcore show in the basement of Humility Gallery in east Pilsen. None of the bands were that great, but the vibe and the energy were totally worth it. Punk rock is probably the only genre where attitude and energy can get you past the not great music mark. But fuck it was cold. My feet were almost numb from the concrete floor when I left. There was unmelted snow by the door, and a few of the bands were playing with gloves on. The kid working the door mentioned he'd seen me at shows a few times and actually called out my Broadways jacket (which I wasn't wearing that night).

I cut my hair for the first time in a few weeks. It feels good to be short again. I hope Laura G. still rubs it as much as she was yesterday.

Topping out as one of the shittier parts of my week, I was threatened with expulsion from my residency. I was given my first and only written warning for being "intentionally rude to a faculty member." I think my tone may have been off, but what I said was, "Dr. Grubb, let Shana finish." And as Dr. Grubb was rebuking me for my comment, Shana was mouthing, "Thank you," to me as she waited to resume her second case presentation of the day. She thanked me again later. So I don't feel guilty, especially since Dr. Grubb is a politician and egotist who'd already said some publicly demeaning things to and about me. So yeah, I could have said it more nicely, but when someone giving a presentation is thanking me for asking someone else to allow her to continue, I don't feel like I've done much wrong.

As it is, he still hasn't replied to the apology email I sent him, and I've written a much longer draft email reviewing some of the run-ins we've had - I'm going to have one of my classmates read it for tone, since I am definitely not being very objective about this. This episode has made me incredibly keyed up the last four days; I'm not sleeping well, and I'm running through a million bullshit scenarios that I know intellectually aren't going to pass, but good luck convincing my emotions of that. I go to bed feeling ecstatic and wake up with my mind telling me how I'm going to continue being insulted until I react and have my career derailed. I know it sounds ludicrous. It is. But I feel I'm walking very close to the line of what constitutes "unacceptable" behavior, and could easily lose my temper with him again...

Today's been particularly shitty. I woke up feeling like shit again, after sleeping five hours. I sat in bed and read The Lord of the Flies from beginning to end, which is not exactly a pick-me-up either. Anyway, by the time I rolled out of bed I had absolutely no drive to do anything, not eat, not read, not drink. The perfect activity would have been sitting by a fire watching things burn. I can pass hours that way, plus the dry heat is never unwelcome, especially in the winter. But since that wasn't available, I moped around with my brain spinning out scenarios of my career derailing and it started me onto a bit of a despondency. I'm wishing I spent more time bashfully resting my head on Laura G. when she was here yesterday.

Ryan K. and Laura W. have both expressed doubts as to whether it's a good idea for me to be so candid about my insecurities or feelings toward Laura G. since it's very possible she could be reading this after linking from my myspace page. I've considered whether or not it's a good idea myself, but I feel I've worked too long to be able to be this honest with myself to hold back. I don't want to feel I'm repressing something just because it may not place me in the most flattering light...and I have the confidence now that Laura will bring it up with me if there's something written here she doesn't feel good about.

Right now I'm staring another busy week in the face with no progress made on any of the work I'm letting pile up. I've got downloaded music from Lifetime, Bill Haley, and the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir to listen to, though. Who the fuck knows. Nothing's getting done tonight, that's for damn sure. Hopefully I can get some sleep. If not, hopefully it's because Laura decided to come over after work and we hang out until the early morning again.

Stress-Induced Emotional Paralysis

2007-02-18T12:45:00.000-06:00

Laying here gripped by inertia
My chest caving in and I can't separate why
Bumbling my way through
What I thought would be so easy
Can't I disengage my mind and coast on through my experiences?
Thinking in terms of endpoints
Trying to refute the dynamic continuity of life
Wondering what I've fucked up and what I can set right
But still my inertia holds me
I fall asleep joyfully
And wake up with twisted guts
And rapidly racing thoughts
I want to escape from the world
And feel selfishly safe