And I wonder...

...if I'm ever gonna see the horizon eclipsed by billboards and shopping malls.

As if I needed another reason to not shop at Target, *every single billboard* at the Washington el stop was a tacky-assed Target ad.

Thanks for visually polluting my commute, fuckers.

I'm not crazy, just frustrated.

There was a really pretty girl on the train, too. She even made some eye contact with me, but I was too chicken-shit to talk to her. Oh, sure, I can rationalize it by saying that no one wants a stranger to introduce themself on the train, or I was getting off in 2 stops anyway, but really I was just too scared.

I walked home in the pouring rain and got soaking wet and felt alive. I was jumping around rocking out. I fixed my bike tire and then washed a shitload of dishes.

My mom told me they're trying to decide whether to put my dog to sleep when they move. He's still perky, but he's blind and a little cranky since he's *old*. I told her to take him with and do it if he can't adjust afterward.

I forgot to eat dinner again.

I feel like this story needs a conclusion, but there isn't one.

Heat Wave Sequelae

OK, so how the fuck do I have 24 blog views today? Who the hell are you people? I know a few of you who read this thing, but I don't even have 24 myspace friends. Hell, I don't think I really even have 24 real-life friends that would want to read it.

Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the attention, I'm just surprised. Thanks for the votes of confidence, gentle readers. That's how I'm interpreting it.

Ryan was nice about my writing - props, dude.

I think I popped my rear wheel tube this weekend. I have a feeling I hit a curb too hard, but I don't know exactly when. This has happened to me before; one of the hazards of aggressive cycling I guess. I noticed the pressure was light on Sunday coming home, so I pumped it up Monday morning, and it was light again Monday night coming home. I pumped it up Tuesday thinking I probably need to get a new tube, but maybe it's the heat (yeah, right), and last night it was too flat to ride. So I walked the almost 2 miles home at 11pm, still like 90 goddamn degrees out. It could've been worse though. The walk isn't bad. I walked here this morning rather than take the bus; it took about 25 minutes, which ain't bad. I'm gonna hit Upgrade on the way home tonight and get me some new tubes, then hang out in the dingy but moderately cool concrete basement and change my rear tube so I can ride tomorrow.

Maybe I should sell my U-pass next semester since a) I hardly use it anyway, and b) I could use the cashola.

I just realized that was one of the dumber lists I've made.

Still waiting on the new Mp3 player. I have a feeling it'll piss me off for a month or so while I get used to the features, then one day I'll wonder how I lived without it. I think it'll be good; it got awesome reviews, but it seems like every Mp3 player is trying to copy the iPod, and what I consider some of the crappy features of the iPod at that. I'm still trying to decide what to do with my old one. It still works fine except when little movements - like walking - disturb the headphone jack. Perhaps I'll just leave it hooked up to the stereo. Yes, I think I will. I'm a genius.

Ugh, where does the time go? Schneider was talking shit about people to me today. He seems to do that more often, or talk shit about dentistry or the world in general. I'm sad he's gonna be retiring next spring, but hopefully I'll still see him sometimes. I like talking shit with cynical old men.

It's weird; it wasn't until I got to dental school that I really started appreciating what I was learning, and appreciating my professors. Is it something about professional school, or is it something about my delayed maturity?

Anyway, tonight I'm going to sweat my ass off changing tires and cleaning house. Quite a change from sitting in the A/C reading research papers like last night. Suck.

My dad left me a message to make sure I wasn't dead from the heat.

Grab your binoculars and look in my windows tonight; you might catch me doing dishes in my boxers - or less...

Monument-Masses: The Quiet Before

Who would've thought that a simple chord progression would be so beautiful?

Three-Man Socialist Rock Symphony

I'm listening to From Monument to Masses. Awesome. I'm going to see them play in Detroit on Friday. Also awesome. Pretty much three years to the day since I first saw them.

I remember I was hesitant to go to that show. I went pretty much to see Planes Mistaken for Stars, even though I hadn't been too into anything they'd put out in the past three years then. Still, it was Friday, I was leaving Saturday morning to meet Marta in NY for a two-week roadtrip, and feeling pretty optimistic.

So I'm at the Fireside, kinda wiling my time away waiting for PMFS to play, and FMTM gets up there. Says nothing. First thing I hear is samples of early morning news broadcasts, and then the music starts, slowly at first. I can't remember exactly which part drew me off the bench and over to the stage, but it wasn't long and I found myself rocking out.

Three guys were up there, very occasionally shouting something at the mic, but just getting into the music. Building it, adding to it. They'd play a few bars, sample themselves, then start playing over themselves. Really taking effects equipment to new heights as musical instruments. Plus the samples, and rhythm of the whole thing.

Beautiful.

Then, at some point they played a short song, totally beautiful. It started with a line about how everything in America is fucked up and rotten, and then this beautiful instrumental - and I mean beautiful, as in pink and orange sunsets shared with beautiful girls who want to stare into my eyes beautiful - breaks through. No words, just musical sentiment, and it brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to share it so much that I dissociated from the music.

"The Quiet Before" still has that potential to wrench my heart around, only now there isn't really anyone to share it with. But, like any emotional spike, the feeling just can't last, and so must fade.

I didn't stay for more than ten minutes of PMFS's set.

This sick boy feels like Stickboy.

I have a cold. Worse, I have a summer cold. Worse yet, it comes on *the* hottest day of summer. We're talking record-setting hot. My head feels like it's way big and wobbling around. It could be worse, though. At least I'm not totally stuffed up all the time, my throat isn't sore, except for when it's real dehydrated in the morning, and I'm not totally dead on my feet.

I'm looking forward to the weather cooling off. Tomorrow. I'm looking forward to dinner with Kate. Tonight. I'm looking forward to meeting Liv again before she moves. Tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing and dancing to the Dirty Calypsonians. Thursday. I'm looking forward to the drive to GORP. Friday. I'm looking forward to sleeeeeeeping. Who knows when. I'm looking forward to the new mp3 player coming. Order still processing.

Trish told me this morning that Ned broke up with her again. My heart goes out to that girl, because sometimes she seems to have a real hard time of it, and deep inside I think she's got some self-esteem issues. I don't think they're justified, but they're there regardless. So I just want to make sure she's not feeling completely alone and rejected, although I don't know how much it will help.

I'm back to procrastinating. Maybe it's the heat, but all weekend I didn't get shit done. Maybe a treatment plan. But really, not much. Mostly I finished reading the Honor Harrington novels (or most of them) for the third or fourth time. Nerdtastic. Now I can confront the mess my life has become. Literally. Shit is falling apart, and I've been neglecting my moral and emotional growth as well as my ADLs and professional work. Now that the gigantic block of escapism I embarked upon when John died has been conquered, maybe I can get this shit to the point where I feel it's under control.

Step 1: call the patients I need to call. Just fucking do it. Step 2: treatment plan my remaining cases. Well, that's pretty much done, but get it nailed down. Step 3: start my lit review and keep working on it. Step 4: get apartment clean - yeah, I know...Step 5: sleep.

Obviously, some of these are going to get done out of order, but still.

My whole not drinking at home alone thing is going well. I don't even miss it, although I did at first. I still want to eat like mad, though. It's an escape mechanism, to feel full somehow. I think I'm just gaining a bare understanding - a glimpse - into compulsive behavior. It's weird, how I see this path I can very easily start down, and how comforting it would be, but also dark.

Speaking of dark paths, I need a nap. And I need to remember to take my ibuprofen.

Thank you for corking!

Ah, so birthday week comes to an end...but it was a good end.

The Vic show on Wednesday was great, and I'm glad people came out. I think it was good the music had the potential for such wide appeal. Katie was nice enough to make me cookies, *and* take me out to dinner, *and* buy me drinks, *and* pay for me to get in the Germs show afterward. And come over to hang out for a while afterward and help me finish the bottle of Bordeaux we started last week. Of course, the other free beers bought for me were just as well appreciated, and the free tequila drinks at the note worked pretty good too.

I blame that wine for the headache I had the next day. The *only* times I've gotten a headache from drinking is after drinking that wine.

Yesterday Jamal and I had sushi, then I went to Delilah's for a beer and talked to Chuck for a while. I got to know Eric who was at the Vic show the night before. I'd actually met him before, but in the context of a large group of people. Vic was outside on the sidewalk when I was leaving, so I talked with that group a bit before they went in and I (reluctantly) rode home.

Today it was fucking hot. And Shana and Rob joined me for the Critical Mass ride. Then we ran into Jmi Basset, who coincidentally is dating their neighbor's ex-husband. I wasn't expecting to, but I ended up corking a lot, several times with drivers getting irate. But there were lots of nice friendly people too, who generally got with the party atmosphere riding by. Some guys in Pilsen opened a fire hydrant, so my right side got drenched...my left joined it by the end of the ride, though. I ran into this kid Eric I went to high school with, which was cool. Carl had his sound system at 31st St. Beach, and a bunch of us were having a little dance party.

The cops were cracking down a bit at the end, though. It was usually alcohol-related things, and predictable. Although I heard one cop say someone threw a beer bottle at their car. Of course, this same guy was also practically running cyclists off the rode a minute before that, directed at lots of different people. He scared the shit out of me, let me say.

Overall, a good night, with that feeling of invincibility you get from breaking the cultural mores with a large group of people. Plus wishing people a Happy Friday and good weekend hundreds of times puts anyone in a good mood.

No specific plans for tomorrow, although I'll go to school to beat the heat, and also get things done. As in work things I've been putting off. Hopefully I'll get some cleaning done too. I also need to hang out with Liv before she leaves for Madison.

Right now I need to sleep, though. I need write these a little sooner, methinks, so I don't always feel like I'm cutting them short, and so I'm awake and alert enough to philosophize more clearly.

Brownies and Comfort Zones

I find tonight that for the first time in many years I'm looking forward to my birthday. This makes me feel odd, for it's out of my comfort zone. Last night I realized I was happy for the first time in a while. I mean more than content, or comfortable, or having fun, or whatever puts me in a good mood. But emotionally fulfilled, without the need to burn off something. At peace.

Some of that perpetuated itself into today, too.

My paper(s) are done and submitted. I've got phone calls to make tomorrow. Forgot today. Oops.

Tomorrow will be a busy day. But hopefully the strap-up I've got scheduled for the afternoon will go smoothly. Can't remember if the plan was for bands or what. Dr. Aoba won't even realize if I change it, though. The real question is whether to band the molars or not. I guess we'll see how much separation I can get while I'm direct bonding.

I'm looking forward to the show tomorrow. Plus I'm glad I'll have a bunch of friends there. Usually, getting people to come out is tough. I almost said "like pulling teeth," but that's both enjoyable and not that difficult. Almost zen-like, in some cases.

"Zen and the Art of Continuous Sutures"

I guess it's the whole birthday thing. Whatever, at least they're up for it, and for celebrating with me. Last year I forgot it was my birthday until Marissa asked how old I was.

Shit, I need to get in touch with her.

Went to John Stoner's place at the Hub and helped with industrial-scale brownie making. I think I was the youngest one there by a good 7-8 years, at least. But the food was good, people were friendly, and I cemented some acquaintances I've made on past rides. Plus John's got a chair in his house made of old bike wheels and inner tubes. And now I'm looking forward to this Friday's ride more and more.

I wanted to relate the Liv story I alluded to the other day, but that must wait, for the shower and bed are hankering for me yet again. Plus I want to groove to the Afterbeat CD I've been getting into my head.

Best line on the MOTO album: "The moon in the sky kicks the ass of the stars."

Touched

Annoyance: people using "gay" as a pejorative.

Actually, this is more than an annoyance. It pisses me the fuck off. On a tangentially related note, Matt was giving me shit today for commenting on his lack of universal precautions. He was seeing an HIV patient, which apparently necessitated a whole shitload more personal protective gear than usual. For him, anyway. Then John acted like the curing light was gonna give him AIDS if he didn't disinfect under the barrier like no tomorrow.

I told them that treating HIV patients differently without reason just perpetuates the stigma associated with it, which is part of why HIV is considered a disability. I sometimes wonder how people manage to get through life if they can't even see the indirect ramifications of their actions. It also makes me feel surprised and a little awed that the world isn't even more fucked up.

Joybringer: Dani sent me a birthday package.

I haven't talked to her since I was in AZ almost three months ago, and it was the last thing I expected, but tonight I get home to a nice card, cookies, and LiveWrong socks. This - and Laura's package, too - make me feel really happy. People I didn't really expect presents from. It just makes me happy to know that maybe I'm not alone as I feel sometimes.

I'm reminded of when I was 16 and getting to be friends with Liv, but that's a story for another day, since I really need to shower and sleep...

I want a pony!

I finally get a chance to write something here. It seems like every time I'd want to, myspace would be fucked up.

Anyway, I've been up to a lot in the whatever amount of time it's been since I last wrote here. Last week Kate and I went to the Printer's Ball, and I picked up a fair amount of literary swag; she and I ended up talking 'til almost three in the morning after the cops kicked us out of Wicker Park. Friday I hit the Pilsen Circular Mass ride, and then out to the Effigies at Double Door.

John and Rebecca passed me on Friday during the Mass, and as they said hi, Carl, the guy riding next to me, yelled, "I want a pony!" He'd been yelling it all night, but that was the most appropriate time yet, I swear.

Saturday I was zonked. Between sleeping in and naps, I didn't get to school until 3pm, and left around 6:30 or so to make it to Derek and Anohki's for dinner. Which was fabulous. I should've hung out there longer rather than make it to Rhiannon's party - a bunch of trixies, and the most profound conversation was about the Left Behind series, which are like the John Grisham novels of Christian fundamentalists.

Yesterday I took it easy and got some work done. Not a lot, since I'm easily distracted by liminal shit. But some.

I have a small plan to get my life back in gear - well, it's not really that far out of gear, but still... Once my paper is done, spend at least 15 minutes a night cleaning up. Right now it's a mess, but once the dishes and CDs are cleaned up, this brilliant plan should allow me to keep my shit together pretty well.

Last night was so nice out, I decided to sit on the stoop and read a bit (probably one more week and I'll be through the Harrington series for the third or fourth time), and Laura came home and talked with me for a bit. Hopefully she and I can become better friends before she moves next month.

It occurred to me the other day that I make a ton of plans to go out and do stuff, and I've made new acquaintances/friends the last few weeks. I need to call Jay and see if she's up for coming out to see Vic Ruggiero on Wednesday. And I'm gonna try and make it out to Night Cap on Friday to meet Shelly and see her boyfriend's band. But the thing is, I don't feel like going out. I want to sit and do nothing. Just vegetate. But I know I need to get out and do things, so I do despite that. It's similar to last spring when I was so depressed and made myself get out so much it was overwhelming.

On a positive note, I'm not drinking at home alone anymore. Now I need to have people over so I can drink what I have left with them.

Hmmm.

...the fuck?

Shit. Tonight is a waste. A fun waste, but a waste.

After school, went to Moretti's with a bunch of classmates. Despite my desire to not drink so much beer anymore (which Ameerah called me on after, oh, six or seven beers) I still had way too much. And a shitload of free wings. Somehow Ben and I won our beanbag toss.

I'm still dizzy.

So, so much for getting some work done tonight. This weekend is going to kill me with fun. Dammit.

Tomorrow I need to get some anthro papers from the library for my midterm and get my final under control. Then the Lifetime/Loved Ones show. Sunday it's Sylvana's baby shower and then the Goddamn Doo Wop Band show. Maybe somewhere in between there I'll get my shit done.

Right now I need to rest. I've been tired all day, but I felt like putting all this out there. Plus I rationalized it by maybe sobering up a bit before I rode home.

I don't think that happened. I feel toasted. Regardless, soon I will head home and probably spend my night reading a novel I've read several times previously and then pass out exhausted.

My life is pathetic. It's been school and self-neglect since John died. I just really don't care about anything else enough to make an effort, even when I know I should. It would probably be good for me to pursue a friendship with Laura Brady and Katie Brokaw, but I can't make myself care enough to go out of my way for it.

Euro-ska

I just heard an awesome song by the Braces. The overwhelming source of its awesomeness is its title and chorus:

"Skanking In My Lonely Room"

In other news, I still feel like shit, like I'm about two steps away from being in tears but never there.

Good morning, heartache.

John's funeral was Friday. Sad as hell. Just the same, it didn't hit me until after I got back to Chicago. Friday and Saturday I was detached, viewing things clinically and more worried about my family. My aunt kept saying she was going to be alone until she dies. Yesterday felt like shit. I couldn't concentrate, I just wanted to eat, sleep, and be lazy. It took me a good 6 hours to do 2 hours of work, and I kept having to take naps. What the fuck? To top it off, I went to the Note to see the Copyrights play, and they weren't there. The other three bands were, though, although they weren't that great.

Saturday night I was at least back in town soon enough to go the Monkey/Deal's Gone Bad show, and that was very welcome. My back is still all sore from dancing. Met up with Ryan too, which was cool, and Chuck Wren hooked me up with 10-12 CDs for $35.

I started selectively rereading the Honor Harrington novels last week. I started actually a few hours before I found out about John's death, but now I feel more justified in spending the time. My apartment is shit right now, but I really don't give a fuck about it. Once I get my paper and lit review done I might. I don't know right now.

Same deal with girls at the moment. I don't need the distraction. I'm trying to eat and drink less. I'm feeling a bit hyperbeerhotic, and I know I've become a little too quick to reach for the drink. I found out Thursday that while you can buy alcohol on airplanes, you can't drink your own.

Right now I just want to eat, sleep, and waste my time. I've pretty much given up trying to get together with friends since it's not worth the letdown when they're busy. I'd rather be alone than deal with that. Shana did tell me to call if I needed to get out, though.

Empty and Pejorative

The big things on my mind right now:

Drove to MN for the weekend, ate lots of food, sat on my uncle's farm and watched green to the horizon, had to put up with their pedantic neo-Calvinist theologic bullshit.

Saw Phil in Minneapolis, went to some nice bars and had some nice conversation over some nice beers.

My cousin John died Monday, so I head to Jersey tomorrow for the funeral.

And I get here for my 7:30am lecture to find it's not on today.

My bicycle, front stoop, and Jim Withington

Several things today: cool, beautiful girls I can't date because of compatibility or availability issues; a nap in a dental chair, sorely needed and missed; pussing out on my work to go home "early"; and cheap fun.

I get home at 8pm, decide to sit on the stoop and read a bit. I finish the short story I was in the middle of, think of what I can do tonight. I should clean the house, sleep, read something educational. I want to do something free. How the hell did I have fun as a kid? I didn't have any money then...so it hits me: bike ride! I've been riding all over for transport whenever possible - why not for fun? Kids are fucking geniuses.

Just goes to show that the more you learn, the less you know.

So I head downtown, then down to Roosevelt and up the lakefront to Division, ride around Goose Island a few minutes, then head up to Delilah's so I have *some* destination. $3 and 2 Americans later I'm upstairs and who do I meet? Jim Fucking Withington. The kid doesn't even live in Chicago anymore and I meet him on a random trip to D's. It was nice to have someone to sit with, though.

I head home and end up sitting on my stoop again for half an hour listening to music. I feel like I have lots of deep thoughts, but it's really just my melancholia and anti-social isolationist tendencies returning. It really is a nice neighborhood outside my house; it's too bad my friends never come here or I never do anything outside here, for that matter. No wonder I feel like I have no home.

I love my bicycle for pulling me away from it all. I've found so many cool places to hang out and do nothing but no one can ever come with me for it.

Sublimation

Why do the walls of my freezer look like they're sublimating immediately after opening it?

I have one beer left and I really shouldn't drink it tonight.

Wasted Days

So after Friday's fun-filled exhausting night in which I met a ton of new people and connected with about zero of them - let's hear it for high school reunions! - I haul my ass up north 15 miles to get my car checked out at the same place that worked on it a month ago, then meet my parents to look at the house they're thinking of buying. Needless to say this totally exhausts me and I go home and sleep til 2:30. I'm not used to waking up in the middle of the afternoon; it was weird being at school at 4:30 when everyone had left. I don't think I accomplished too much either. Ah well, it fueled my melancholy and helped justify my moderate self-dislike. Regardless, my ass was zonked at the radio last night.

That's the preface to the important part:

I woke up this morning after a full night's sleep and depressing dreams to a light drizzle and cool breeze outside, some of it coming right in my window onto my face. For some reason I could identify with the rain on my face and didn't feel so alone.

But my apathy returned and I've really not accomplished anything all day. A nap, some schoolwork, but nothing of importance, it feels like. Not even fun. The beautiful gray day wasn't experienced much at all.