Extensive amounts of food and drink distract and satiate me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bring your bored, bring your broken-hearted

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This post is useless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can resume forgetting the things I've lost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I feel old.

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

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

I saw myself in the mirror.

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

I feel old.

Freezing rain...

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

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

Apathy and Exhaustion

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

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

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

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

Blow it out your ass!

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

The British have it in real life.

I'm going to go home and sleep now

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

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

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

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

I'm going to go home and sleep now.

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow, life got in the way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon. Sleep soon.

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

One last passage (I hope) from Fallen Dragon:

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