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.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
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.
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:
One last passage (I hope) from Fallen Dragon:
Worst of all, for Lawrence, was the rust. He'd never realized there was so much metal involved with the city's construction, blithely assuming its component parts were all sophisticated modern composite, held together with intricate molecular bonds. But they weren't: metal remained the cheapest and easiest method of fabrication. Templeton had been screwed, riveted, nailed, reinforced and bolted into a cohesive whole like every other human conurbation since the Iron Age. And now it was paying the price of that cheapness in Amethi's Wakening climate. Rust oozed from every structure. It was the city's sweat, exuded from a million filthy pores. Grubby red-brown stains dribbled and wept along each surface, sapping its strength in an eternal drip of oxidation.
Oh, wow.
This is the third time I'm reading this book, but it's just so wonderful right now, I feel like I could cry from joy. Hope can be renewed by art, it's true.
More from Fallen Dragon:
More from Fallen Dragon:
She rested her elbow on the bar and put her chin in her palm to give him a quizzical look. "You're funny, Lawrence. I've never met a boy like you before."
"What do you mean?"
"Half the time you act like you're terrified of me."
"I'm not!" he protested indignantly.
"Good to know. You've got lovely eyes, halfway between gray and green."
"Oh. Um, thanks."
She broke off a corner of toast and popped in her mouth. "Which is your cue to give me a compliment. Any part of me you like?"
A strength of will the he never knew he had stopped him from looking directly at her chest. Instead he gazed right back into her shining gray eyes. "I wouldn't know where to begin," he said softly, and blushed.
For a moment she held still; then a wide smile spread across her lips. "That sounded like a pretty good beginning to me. For someone who comes over all reticent, you've got the moves, Lawrence."
"That wasn't a move. That's what I really think."
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
A fucking great excerpt...
Peter F. Hamilton, from Fallen Dragon:
They grabbed food from the buffet and talked by shouting over the music. She drank her beer straight from the bottle. They danced some more. Drank some more.
With blood pounding, his skin sticky with sweat and alcohol humming sweetly in hid head, Lawrence folded his arms around her in the middle of all the swaying people. She flowed up against him, resting her head on his shoulder for a slow number. Golden light broke over her, shimmering into deep violet. They smiled in lazy unison. Lawrence tilted his head forward, and they were kissing.
Isaac warned me it's the first batch. It says so right on the label.
Isaac gave me a 22oz. of the home brew he and a friend made in MI today. Yue Brew, it's called. Supposedly a Belgian-style brew, but he warned me it's the first batch. It says so right on the label. I can't wait to try it.
I left it in the fridge in the resident room at school. I can't drink it tonight, like I wanted.
I realized this as soon as I got home, and put a bottle of Young's Chocolate Stout in the freezer with a stein, so that should be a nice little departure before bed.
John and I had a nice discussion about gay rights today. Goddamn is that boy conditioned. Of course, he calls it maintaining the tradition he was brought up in. He seriously thinks that allowing gay marriage will erode heterosexual marriage by semantic effects. I mean, shit, what the fuck is wrong with people? I guess a lot of it is just fear of confronting a world that doesn't match their worldview, so instead of adjusting their worldview, they try and change the world instead. The worst kind of ideologues. That said, John is a super nice guy who would never be judgemental of anyone, and one of my best friends. But, damn.
One of these days, I've got to be rested enough to cut my hair before I shower and hit the hay. Tonight I'm going to shower, sip beer, and read.
I left it in the fridge in the resident room at school. I can't drink it tonight, like I wanted.
I realized this as soon as I got home, and put a bottle of Young's Chocolate Stout in the freezer with a stein, so that should be a nice little departure before bed.
John and I had a nice discussion about gay rights today. Goddamn is that boy conditioned. Of course, he calls it maintaining the tradition he was brought up in. He seriously thinks that allowing gay marriage will erode heterosexual marriage by semantic effects. I mean, shit, what the fuck is wrong with people? I guess a lot of it is just fear of confronting a world that doesn't match their worldview, so instead of adjusting their worldview, they try and change the world instead. The worst kind of ideologues. That said, John is a super nice guy who would never be judgemental of anyone, and one of my best friends. But, damn.
One of these days, I've got to be rested enough to cut my hair before I shower and hit the hay. Tonight I'm going to shower, sip beer, and read.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Whatever the cause, it cleared me right the fuck out.
I just got back from a bike ride bordering on twenty miles. It was pretty good...it wasn't until the last 4 or 5 miles that I really started feeling winded...literally. I rode north to Granville, and rode back south on the Lakefront Path, which was beautiful except for one thing: the wind. There were times that I felt like the gusts could stop me in about 3 seconds if I stopped pedalling.
The weather today was beautiful...almost 70 degrees, which is fanfuckingtastic for the end of October. Actually, it would be fanfuckingtastic any time. But since I had my research presentation this morning (it went fine, no questions even, and my advisor said she was impressed with it, even), I wasn't feeling a lot of pressure to get work done this evening, and decided to take advantage of the warmth.
Last night I couldn't fall asleep. Possibly because I slept until almost noon and then went to bed at midnight...anyway, around 1am I turned the light on and decided to do some light reading. The book I pulled off the shelf was Peter Hamilton's Fallen Dragon, which is one of those underrated books that no one really hears about. Especially for science fiction. A pretty believable version of the future, with protagonists whose problems are universally human. Fuck, despite all the economically structured warfare and sociological developments in the main plot, it's really about the search for a lost and wasted youth.
Like I said, a light read. I think the first time I read it was while I was studying for Part I of the National Boards.
Anyway, after the resultant 5 hours of sleep that left me, I was pretty tired by this afternoon, so I crashed out for a good hour and a half before the last interview dinner of the season.
GROSS SHIT WARNING: DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE FOLLOWING
It seems like every interview dinner results in me getting increased intestinal motility. Maybe it's the caffeine, since I drink like a pitcher of cola. Either that or the oily fried calamari. Whatever the cause, it cleared me right the fuck out. Just thought I'd share.
The weather today was beautiful...almost 70 degrees, which is fanfuckingtastic for the end of October. Actually, it would be fanfuckingtastic any time. But since I had my research presentation this morning (it went fine, no questions even, and my advisor said she was impressed with it, even), I wasn't feeling a lot of pressure to get work done this evening, and decided to take advantage of the warmth.
Last night I couldn't fall asleep. Possibly because I slept until almost noon and then went to bed at midnight...anyway, around 1am I turned the light on and decided to do some light reading. The book I pulled off the shelf was Peter Hamilton's Fallen Dragon, which is one of those underrated books that no one really hears about. Especially for science fiction. A pretty believable version of the future, with protagonists whose problems are universally human. Fuck, despite all the economically structured warfare and sociological developments in the main plot, it's really about the search for a lost and wasted youth.
Like I said, a light read. I think the first time I read it was while I was studying for Part I of the National Boards.
Anyway, after the resultant 5 hours of sleep that left me, I was pretty tired by this afternoon, so I crashed out for a good hour and a half before the last interview dinner of the season.
GROSS SHIT WARNING: DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE FOLLOWING
It seems like every interview dinner results in me getting increased intestinal motility. Maybe it's the caffeine, since I drink like a pitcher of cola. Either that or the oily fried calamari. Whatever the cause, it cleared me right the fuck out. Just thought I'd share.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
"Fuck you. This is my costume."
I thought I was being lazy and little surly. I didn't spend any time preparing for Halloween. I would have liked to have a cool costume, but really felt like I couldn't spare the time to prepare/shop for one.
I had the idea Friday night to put on all my snowboard gear and haul my old snowboard around. Then I decided I would be both too hot and too encumbered for it to be worth it. So I wore what I was wearing yesterday to Tara's Halloween party. Granted, sometimes that will pass for a costume on its own. (Some kid was supposed to be new wave, but he really just looked like a hipster.) I put a piece of duct tape on my chest that said in pretty small print, "Fuck you. This is my costume." Everyone who leaned in close to read it laughed and said it was good. I thought it was going to come off as cheap and lazy, which is what it really was.
Maybe my laziness is brilliant?
Some guy thought my nail polish was for Halloween. I had to explain it was a more regular occurrence.
I had the idea Friday night to put on all my snowboard gear and haul my old snowboard around. Then I decided I would be both too hot and too encumbered for it to be worth it. So I wore what I was wearing yesterday to Tara's Halloween party. Granted, sometimes that will pass for a costume on its own. (Some kid was supposed to be new wave, but he really just looked like a hipster.) I put a piece of duct tape on my chest that said in pretty small print, "Fuck you. This is my costume." Everyone who leaned in close to read it laughed and said it was good. I thought it was going to come off as cheap and lazy, which is what it really was.
Maybe my laziness is brilliant?
Some guy thought my nail polish was for Halloween. I had to explain it was a more regular occurrence.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Doing that much time in my school clothes may prematurely soil them
I just showered for the first time in three days. Before you say, "Oh, gross, you dirty fucker!" hear me out. Well, try.
I guess I have a crap reason for not doing so on Wednesday night - I was dilligently (desperately?) trying to find some freeware to either convert DVD directly to AVI so I could convert that to my MP3 player and have something to watch during my boring Thursday night lecture. Last night I was out with Trish and didn't get home until after midnight and just crashed despite the lingering odor of cigarettes about my person.
Tonight was another Critical Mass night. I met up with Danny Kaplan and Steve "It's been a while since I've been to Mass" Weeks, although they had to cut out before the end of the ride - Weeks to catch a train home to Mundelien and Danny when we neared his house a little before 9pm. I stuck it out to the end despite intermittent drizzling and a biting wind out by the lake, but it was fun. I always enjoy making people smile, especially the girls we pass. (Girls are just so damn good-looking!) But by the end, like I said, I was all alone for the six miles back home. I did stop and have some Thai food, which was good.
I'd like to ride out to my parents' house sometime, but I don't have the time to go there and back most days. Maybe Thanksgiving will be a good time. Hmm. I think I should get a bigger messenger bag to tote more stuff for those longer trips.
Riding the bike gives me time to think about things. My mind can wander, stimulated by song lyrics to take strange or unusual turns of thought. I want to try and build more bike riding time into my life. I think I should be able to find time for a ten-mile ride every day without any problems...we'll see though, since I'm usually so tired by the time I get home. Maybe I should just start planning fifteen-mile trips home rather than the two miles or so it currently is, although doing that much time in my school clothes (yes, I said it) may prematurely soil them and may not be as comfortable either.
But back to the wandering mind...it occurred to me tonight that I can't really remember what it feels like to kiss a girl. Not that I won't remember how to do it when I find one to kiss...it's just that I've gone so long without that the feeling is hard to recall. Well, there are two girls I've made out with in the last year and a half, but both of them were horrible kissers, as in suck your face and tongue and you deal with the vacuum-induced capillary lysis. Ouch. Not too hot, let me tell you. So that's one more thing I can feel sorry for.
On a related note, last night I told Trish that I can't remember what it feels like to be in love. I can remember that it was fucking awesome and worth all the shit you have to swim through for it, but I can't remember what it felt like.
Plus, I've got a huge fucking canker sore in my right buccal vestibule adjacent to my lower right molars and it's goddamn fucking annoying.
My bed beckons...and I'm fucking worn enough to heed its call, no problem.
I guess I have a crap reason for not doing so on Wednesday night - I was dilligently (desperately?) trying to find some freeware to either convert DVD directly to AVI so I could convert that to my MP3 player and have something to watch during my boring Thursday night lecture. Last night I was out with Trish and didn't get home until after midnight and just crashed despite the lingering odor of cigarettes about my person.
Tonight was another Critical Mass night. I met up with Danny Kaplan and Steve "It's been a while since I've been to Mass" Weeks, although they had to cut out before the end of the ride - Weeks to catch a train home to Mundelien and Danny when we neared his house a little before 9pm. I stuck it out to the end despite intermittent drizzling and a biting wind out by the lake, but it was fun. I always enjoy making people smile, especially the girls we pass. (Girls are just so damn good-looking!) But by the end, like I said, I was all alone for the six miles back home. I did stop and have some Thai food, which was good.
I'd like to ride out to my parents' house sometime, but I don't have the time to go there and back most days. Maybe Thanksgiving will be a good time. Hmm. I think I should get a bigger messenger bag to tote more stuff for those longer trips.
Riding the bike gives me time to think about things. My mind can wander, stimulated by song lyrics to take strange or unusual turns of thought. I want to try and build more bike riding time into my life. I think I should be able to find time for a ten-mile ride every day without any problems...we'll see though, since I'm usually so tired by the time I get home. Maybe I should just start planning fifteen-mile trips home rather than the two miles or so it currently is, although doing that much time in my school clothes (yes, I said it) may prematurely soil them and may not be as comfortable either.
But back to the wandering mind...it occurred to me tonight that I can't really remember what it feels like to kiss a girl. Not that I won't remember how to do it when I find one to kiss...it's just that I've gone so long without that the feeling is hard to recall. Well, there are two girls I've made out with in the last year and a half, but both of them were horrible kissers, as in suck your face and tongue and you deal with the vacuum-induced capillary lysis. Ouch. Not too hot, let me tell you. So that's one more thing I can feel sorry for.
On a related note, last night I told Trish that I can't remember what it feels like to be in love. I can remember that it was fucking awesome and worth all the shit you have to swim through for it, but I can't remember what it felt like.
Plus, I've got a huge fucking canker sore in my right buccal vestibule adjacent to my lower right molars and it's goddamn fucking annoying.
My bed beckons...and I'm fucking worn enough to heed its call, no problem.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Countdown to Ska Night...
This week has been one of those busy weeks. Just always something going on, so I'm constantly busy but not too busy. Today was more of the same. And more free food. Seriously, cookies and stuffed pizza. Plenty of soda. I still slept during my 4:30 lecture despite the caffeine intake earlier. And because I'm a nice guy, I traded presentation times with Silvana so I get to present Monday morning rather than Tuesday morning. Bleh.
At least tonight, Trish and I are going to Delilah's for ska night and good beer (for me anyway, she's sticking to club soda, I think). First, though, I must work dilligently on my thesis so I have more useful stuff to put into my presentation.
In other news, people are stupid. My favorite part:
Rereading that first line, I really must say that it seems like most weeks are those busy weeks. Someday soon I'll have my thesis under control (really?) and can relax at night some.
Right.
At least tonight, Trish and I are going to Delilah's for ska night and good beer (for me anyway, she's sticking to club soda, I think). First, though, I must work dilligently on my thesis so I have more useful stuff to put into my presentation.
In other news, people are stupid. My favorite part:
Rereading that first line, I really must say that it seems like most weeks are those busy weeks. Someday soon I'll have my thesis under control (really?) and can relax at night some.
Right.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
One quick post before I sleep.
Siddhi mentioned something today about how she doesn't feel creative. I said I understood, that I'm too tired to be creative anymore. Working on my literature review, I feel like I can't write for shit. I'm just putting one-paragraph summaries of the different articles I've read into a loose outline form and calling it a review. I'm sure I'll radically rewrite the thing once I can get some sort of consistent thought out of it, but still, right now it's not even worth being called verbal diarrhea.
I'm getting hungry in the mornings these days, and find myself snacking on donuts and so forth. Which has worked out well the last two days, as I didn't eat lunch until 4:30 or 5:00. Today lunch and dinner were one and the same, which means I'll be really hungry when I wake up tomorrow. Maybe I just need to drink more water and fill up...I'm still carrying more excess baggage than I need to, anyhoo. But I already know I get free lunch and dinner tomorrow, so....
I'm going to go to bed now, an hour earlier than usual, and praise myself for attempting to rest. Maybe tomorrow I can get some more real work done instead of throwing in the towel and saying "Fuck this!" at 8pm.
Right.
I'm getting hungry in the mornings these days, and find myself snacking on donuts and so forth. Which has worked out well the last two days, as I didn't eat lunch until 4:30 or 5:00. Today lunch and dinner were one and the same, which means I'll be really hungry when I wake up tomorrow. Maybe I just need to drink more water and fill up...I'm still carrying more excess baggage than I need to, anyhoo. But I already know I get free lunch and dinner tomorrow, so....
I'm going to go to bed now, an hour earlier than usual, and praise myself for attempting to rest. Maybe tomorrow I can get some more real work done instead of throwing in the towel and saying "Fuck this!" at 8pm.
Right.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
I want a hot drink right now.
It was so cold and windy today that as I rode to school - without my goggles - my eyes started to hurt. Thankfully I had my goggles in my bag "just in case," and was able to make the ride home in much more comfort.
I finally got a big chunk of my lit review done...I have about 40 more articles to go, but I did the big 10. I think the rest will go a little faster since they're not as relevant and I can gloss over them a bit more. What an exciting week I have ahead!
Our lab at school was fucking cold though. I was wearing a jacket and hat the whole time I was there. The hallway feels OK, but as soon as you pass through the doorway there's a noticeable change in temperature. Come winter though, it'll be pretty hot in there. Weird.
I gave up on finding a Halloween costume. I can shave my head and put on a plain T-shirt and sneakers and go as Ian MacKaye in the Minor Threat days. Really, I'll probably just go without unless I find something good at the store later this week.
I've been listening to Jello Biafra's new 3CD spoken word release. That, combined with reading the issues of Transmetropolitan Laura lent me, has left me feeling a little angry tonight. It didn't help that I've got a lack of quarters for laundry and a full load waiting...
Fa! I got school work done and feel good no matter what right now. Some of the weight has been lifted! Woo-hooooo!
I finally got a big chunk of my lit review done...I have about 40 more articles to go, but I did the big 10. I think the rest will go a little faster since they're not as relevant and I can gloss over them a bit more. What an exciting week I have ahead!
Our lab at school was fucking cold though. I was wearing a jacket and hat the whole time I was there. The hallway feels OK, but as soon as you pass through the doorway there's a noticeable change in temperature. Come winter though, it'll be pretty hot in there. Weird.
I gave up on finding a Halloween costume. I can shave my head and put on a plain T-shirt and sneakers and go as Ian MacKaye in the Minor Threat days. Really, I'll probably just go without unless I find something good at the store later this week.
I've been listening to Jello Biafra's new 3CD spoken word release. That, combined with reading the issues of Transmetropolitan Laura lent me, has left me feeling a little angry tonight. It didn't help that I've got a lack of quarters for laundry and a full load waiting...
Fa! I got school work done and feel good no matter what right now. Some of the weight has been lifted! Woo-hooooo!
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Hesitation used to be the station that I'd get on at. Now it's Asshole, can you envision that?
It's been a few days since I wrote anything, and what a busy week it's been. Right now seems like a good time to resume my procrastination. I'm really supposed to be writing the lit review for my thesis, but can't quite find the willpower to sit down and review the stack of research papers sitting before me.
The prevailing theme in my life this week is exhaustion. I started out exhausted from my trip to Shit City last weekend, and it just got worse. Last night was the first time I really slept until my body awoke on its own. Ten-and-a-half hours. Not that I'm not still tired...I may take a nap later to further my procrastination and restfulness.
Thinking back on this week, though, I'm kind of amazed I made it through in as good a shape as I did. Monday and Tuesday, I was a walking wreck, napping pretty much anywhere I had a chance to put my head down. I got the bare amount of work done that I needed to...
Wednesday, after dinner with our new applicants, I went to a late Deal's Gone Bad show at Cobra Lounge. The $3 12oz. Guinness was a nice refresher from Vegas's shitty beers and even shittier overpricing, so I took a bit of advantage of that, especially since it was a free show. DGB played a two sets, and I was able to run into a few people I've made acquaintance with. Oh, and I was able to dance, too...So while going to a show that let out at 1:30am may not have been the best idea, or anywhere close to smart, it was worth it.
Thursday was another long day...I barely had time to eat lunch even, from all the work I was doing. Then I hauled ass from school to my house for a quick change to shorts and then up to the Metro for the Falcon show. Which rocked. The Copyrights were one of the openers, and while they played a good set, they stuck mostly to stuff from their new record, which I still don't have. The Falcon tore it up pretty well, playing I think every song they've written. In between sets, I got rousted by Metro security for falling asleep while sitting on a bench, and then for even sitting on the floor. God damn. "Who the fuck is Renee Zellwegger?"
By Friday morning, my right ankle - the one I sprained so badly two years ago - was starting to feel pretty sore. By Friday evening, I was again in shorts and out at the Metro for the Bouncing Souls show. World/Inferno opened, and their set wasn't as good as the last time I saw them in early 2005. Part of it may have been the stage height, or the crowd, or the fact that they played primarily songs off their new album which isn't particulary my favorite. None of the really uptempo songs of theirs that I like. Whole Wheat Bread just annoys me, and I spent their set reading a pretty depressing epidemiological study of post-invasion mortality rates in Iraq. Street Dogs put on a pretty good set, though; there's at least one scab on my arm where it ran into some kid's teeth. The Bouncing Souls gave a pretty damn good showing, and after all the teenage boys had worn themselves out slamming into each other, the singing and dancing was pretty sweet too. After show I stopped at the rock'n'roll DQ for a Blizzard. So I went to bed in a pretty good mood, and slept the sleep of the dead.
Earlier this week I met a girl who, from her body language and the way she would touch my arm and hugged me goodbye, seemed to be pretty into me. Granted, she was teeth-benumbingly drunk at the time. In the moment and in my exhaustion, I was pretty into her too, or at least into the idea of a girl who was into me. I would have done just about anything in that situation, and I'm glad the opportunities for anything serious didn't really present themselves. That's because as soon as I started heading home, I realized that I wasn't really that attracted to her at all. Thinking more on it the next day, I realized it's because I didn't feel challenged at all. Not in the sense of attaining affection, but in the sense of being inspired. The simple fact is that the gut feeling wasn't there.
Of course, I'd told her I'd call her, and I would probably enjoy having her as a friend, but I feel like I'd be an asshole for stringing her along, however unintentionally. The question is whether I'd be a bigger asshole for never calling...
The prevailing theme in my life this week is exhaustion. I started out exhausted from my trip to Shit City last weekend, and it just got worse. Last night was the first time I really slept until my body awoke on its own. Ten-and-a-half hours. Not that I'm not still tired...I may take a nap later to further my procrastination and restfulness.
Thinking back on this week, though, I'm kind of amazed I made it through in as good a shape as I did. Monday and Tuesday, I was a walking wreck, napping pretty much anywhere I had a chance to put my head down. I got the bare amount of work done that I needed to...
Wednesday, after dinner with our new applicants, I went to a late Deal's Gone Bad show at Cobra Lounge. The $3 12oz. Guinness was a nice refresher from Vegas's shitty beers and even shittier overpricing, so I took a bit of advantage of that, especially since it was a free show. DGB played a two sets, and I was able to run into a few people I've made acquaintance with. Oh, and I was able to dance, too...So while going to a show that let out at 1:30am may not have been the best idea, or anywhere close to smart, it was worth it.
Thursday was another long day...I barely had time to eat lunch even, from all the work I was doing. Then I hauled ass from school to my house for a quick change to shorts and then up to the Metro for the Falcon show. Which rocked. The Copyrights were one of the openers, and while they played a good set, they stuck mostly to stuff from their new record, which I still don't have. The Falcon tore it up pretty well, playing I think every song they've written. In between sets, I got rousted by Metro security for falling asleep while sitting on a bench, and then for even sitting on the floor. God damn. "Who the fuck is Renee Zellwegger?"
By Friday morning, my right ankle - the one I sprained so badly two years ago - was starting to feel pretty sore. By Friday evening, I was again in shorts and out at the Metro for the Bouncing Souls show. World/Inferno opened, and their set wasn't as good as the last time I saw them in early 2005. Part of it may have been the stage height, or the crowd, or the fact that they played primarily songs off their new album which isn't particulary my favorite. None of the really uptempo songs of theirs that I like. Whole Wheat Bread just annoys me, and I spent their set reading a pretty depressing epidemiological study of post-invasion mortality rates in Iraq. Street Dogs put on a pretty good set, though; there's at least one scab on my arm where it ran into some kid's teeth. The Bouncing Souls gave a pretty damn good showing, and after all the teenage boys had worn themselves out slamming into each other, the singing and dancing was pretty sweet too. After show I stopped at the rock'n'roll DQ for a Blizzard. So I went to bed in a pretty good mood, and slept the sleep of the dead.
Earlier this week I met a girl who, from her body language and the way she would touch my arm and hugged me goodbye, seemed to be pretty into me. Granted, she was teeth-benumbingly drunk at the time. In the moment and in my exhaustion, I was pretty into her too, or at least into the idea of a girl who was into me. I would have done just about anything in that situation, and I'm glad the opportunities for anything serious didn't really present themselves. That's because as soon as I started heading home, I realized that I wasn't really that attracted to her at all. Thinking more on it the next day, I realized it's because I didn't feel challenged at all. Not in the sense of attaining affection, but in the sense of being inspired. The simple fact is that the gut feeling wasn't there.
Of course, I'd told her I'd call her, and I would probably enjoy having her as a friend, but I feel like I'd be an asshole for stringing her along, however unintentionally. The question is whether I'd be a bigger asshole for never calling...
Monday, October 16, 2006
Chinga Las Vegas!
I'm back from Las Vegas, and what a trip it was. And just once I'd like to get home from vacation without feeling exhausted.
To start everything off, that fuckhead-in-chief G.W. Bush was flying out of O'Hare Thursday night. Which means all sorts of shit was fucked-up and late. Shana and Rob and I waited in the airport for five hours for a three-and-a-half hour flight, and then when we got on the plane it was too late for them to show the movie, although they were able to play like eight episodes of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Christ in a fucking wheelchair.
So we get to the Venetian around 1:30am and check in. Then we're hungry again since it's been nine hours since we ate dinner, so we hit some cafe in the hotel that's owned by the Cheesecake Factory. Now, I like the food at the Cheesecake Factory. It's usually flavored pretty well, whatever you say about their decor. But this place bit it. $15 for fish and chips, and the chips were fucking shite. Even the fried calamari and zucchini Rob ordered was bland. I mean, how do you fuck up fried calamari?
If you've never been to Vegas, you can probably guess from the preceding that my tale will portray several examples of over-priced underwhelming bullshit.
We were staying at the Venetian, which bills itself as a replica of the real Venice. The truth is, the whole thing is so fucking plastic it's annoying. Having been to Venice, I'd much rather go back, even though I was bored when I was there. At least it was a real city, even if it was full of tourists, too. Just because you have a fake-ass grand canal and your security guards dress like carabinieri doesn't mean you've replicated Venice. Your plastic facade and stench of simulation belie the truth.
Las Vegas is a plastic-and-neon monument to artifice and superficial monolithic greed. Everything is overpriced. There isn't a drinking fountain in the entire fucking city, but every casino has huge fucking fountains out in the desert sun. Me being a frugal bastard, I found myself getting dehydrated throughout the day rather than spend $3 for a bottle of fucking water. And if you read my last post, you've probably figured out that I didn't gamble, although I did watch Shana flush $40 down a roulette table on a whim before we left.
I don't think there's anything authentic in the entire city. It's a chilling vision of the future of Republican America, with everything owned by giant corporations; crowds of people interested in superficial baubles and attention grabbing amusements, like pigeons to the sparkle of broken glass; and flushing their money down their toilet because they can't find the gall to violate cultural mores without permission from some fucking marketing campaign. The whole fucking city is an exercise in branding.
And shit, it was sickly humorous that almost all the people on the Strip who were schilling for the strip clubs and escort services were obvious immigrants. Women and foreigners making money off each other to serve the puerile interests of moderately more well-off Americans.
Everywhere I tried to walk was filled with slow-ass people that were looking at everything but where they were going, oblivious to everything around them but the shiny flashing shit.
On Friday, we went to the GAC party at Madamme Tussaud's Wax Museum. I was standing next to the Andre Agassi statue and some woman said we looked alike. Great. The food was bland - surprise! - and the beer was all weak shit - like the whole damn city! - but the hard liquor was free. I tied a big one on, and managed to fit my fist in my mouth for the first time ever - it left big teeth marks on my knuckles for a while. That last free drink kept me pretty fucked up for the rest of the night. Too fucked up, really.
After the late arrival Thursday night, I just wanted to sleep on Friday. Then that girl Amber that I met at GORP two months ago texted me at 8:45 in the morning. Fuckin' A! Anyway, I called her later in the day and she said was going to the Wax Museum Party and so I said I'd see her later, not really too excited to see her again but not willing to just discard someone who was being friendly.
At the museum that night, Anoki asked where my "girlfriend" was; after I said I hadn't seen her, Shana took my phone and texted her:
Needless to say, we were all laughing over this, me included, because, really, who gives a shit about some girl that lukewarm with her friendship? When I saw her as I was walking out on a lecture the next day she kind of acknowledged my wave of hello. Hah.
Note to self: Shana may never touch my phone regarding any girl I'm seriously interested in.
I did have some relaxing times sitting out by the pool, enjoying the sunlight, and/or reading Gilligan's Wake. My dad called to warn me not to give into temptation since Las Vegas is a very tempting city. Don't worry, Dad, the place disgusted me.
The highlight of the weekend was seeing the Pogues and Against Me!, even though the show was overpriced and at the House of Blues. I ended up meeting some skins from Chicago, and making fast friends with some punk kids from L.A. and some Vegas skins as well. But a ton of dancing, not a real heavy crowd, awesome music with group singalongs; just a very classic show. I was asking the Vegas guys if there was any good place to get a beer in town, and they said it sucked, it was all touristy shit. Wow, even the locals can't recommend a good bar.
After the show I was so thirsty I ended up drinking out of the sink at the Mandalay Bay, which houses the House of Blues, and walking the two-and-a-half miles up the strip back to my hotel and collapsing. Sunday was all-you-can-eat buffet brunch at the Bellagio, then a hellacious wait at the fucktarded Vegas airport security only to find another delayed flight. I got home late and spent today yawning and wishing for a nap.
To start everything off, that fuckhead-in-chief G.W. Bush was flying out of O'Hare Thursday night. Which means all sorts of shit was fucked-up and late. Shana and Rob and I waited in the airport for five hours for a three-and-a-half hour flight, and then when we got on the plane it was too late for them to show the movie, although they were able to play like eight episodes of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Christ in a fucking wheelchair.
So we get to the Venetian around 1:30am and check in. Then we're hungry again since it's been nine hours since we ate dinner, so we hit some cafe in the hotel that's owned by the Cheesecake Factory. Now, I like the food at the Cheesecake Factory. It's usually flavored pretty well, whatever you say about their decor. But this place bit it. $15 for fish and chips, and the chips were fucking shite. Even the fried calamari and zucchini Rob ordered was bland. I mean, how do you fuck up fried calamari?
If you've never been to Vegas, you can probably guess from the preceding that my tale will portray several examples of over-priced underwhelming bullshit.
We were staying at the Venetian, which bills itself as a replica of the real Venice. The truth is, the whole thing is so fucking plastic it's annoying. Having been to Venice, I'd much rather go back, even though I was bored when I was there. At least it was a real city, even if it was full of tourists, too. Just because you have a fake-ass grand canal and your security guards dress like carabinieri doesn't mean you've replicated Venice. Your plastic facade and stench of simulation belie the truth.
Las Vegas is a plastic-and-neon monument to artifice and superficial monolithic greed. Everything is overpriced. There isn't a drinking fountain in the entire fucking city, but every casino has huge fucking fountains out in the desert sun. Me being a frugal bastard, I found myself getting dehydrated throughout the day rather than spend $3 for a bottle of fucking water. And if you read my last post, you've probably figured out that I didn't gamble, although I did watch Shana flush $40 down a roulette table on a whim before we left.
I don't think there's anything authentic in the entire city. It's a chilling vision of the future of Republican America, with everything owned by giant corporations; crowds of people interested in superficial baubles and attention grabbing amusements, like pigeons to the sparkle of broken glass; and flushing their money down their toilet because they can't find the gall to violate cultural mores without permission from some fucking marketing campaign. The whole fucking city is an exercise in branding.
And shit, it was sickly humorous that almost all the people on the Strip who were schilling for the strip clubs and escort services were obvious immigrants. Women and foreigners making money off each other to serve the puerile interests of moderately more well-off Americans.
Everywhere I tried to walk was filled with slow-ass people that were looking at everything but where they were going, oblivious to everything around them but the shiny flashing shit.
On Friday, we went to the GAC party at Madamme Tussaud's Wax Museum. I was standing next to the Andre Agassi statue and some woman said we looked alike. Great. The food was bland - surprise! - and the beer was all weak shit - like the whole damn city! - but the hard liquor was free. I tied a big one on, and managed to fit my fist in my mouth for the first time ever - it left big teeth marks on my knuckles for a while. That last free drink kept me pretty fucked up for the rest of the night. Too fucked up, really.
After the late arrival Thursday night, I just wanted to sleep on Friday. Then that girl Amber that I met at GORP two months ago texted me at 8:45 in the morning. Fuckin' A! Anyway, I called her later in the day and she said was going to the Wax Museum Party and so I said I'd see her later, not really too excited to see her again but not willing to just discard someone who was being friendly.
At the museum that night, Anoki asked where my "girlfriend" was; after I said I hadn't seen her, Shana took my phone and texted her:
Shana, on my phone: Where r u?
Amber: Eating at the palm at ceasers
Shana, on my phone: I miss u!
Amber: [no response]
Shana, on my phone: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!
Amber: [no response]
Needless to say, we were all laughing over this, me included, because, really, who gives a shit about some girl that lukewarm with her friendship? When I saw her as I was walking out on a lecture the next day she kind of acknowledged my wave of hello. Hah.
Note to self: Shana may never touch my phone regarding any girl I'm seriously interested in.
I did have some relaxing times sitting out by the pool, enjoying the sunlight, and/or reading Gilligan's Wake. My dad called to warn me not to give into temptation since Las Vegas is a very tempting city. Don't worry, Dad, the place disgusted me.
The highlight of the weekend was seeing the Pogues and Against Me!, even though the show was overpriced and at the House of Blues. I ended up meeting some skins from Chicago, and making fast friends with some punk kids from L.A. and some Vegas skins as well. But a ton of dancing, not a real heavy crowd, awesome music with group singalongs; just a very classic show. I was asking the Vegas guys if there was any good place to get a beer in town, and they said it sucked, it was all touristy shit. Wow, even the locals can't recommend a good bar.
After the show I was so thirsty I ended up drinking out of the sink at the Mandalay Bay, which houses the House of Blues, and walking the two-and-a-half miles up the strip back to my hotel and collapsing. Sunday was all-you-can-eat buffet brunch at the Bellagio, then a hellacious wait at the fucktarded Vegas airport security only to find another delayed flight. I got home late and spent today yawning and wishing for a nap.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Deciphering my drunken writing in a notebook from Las Vegas
I am plastered right now.
Darren + open bar = fucked up.
I ate and drank so much that even though it's been 2+ hours since my last drink I'm getting more and more drunk. I'm even slurring words in the notebook I'm writing this in.
I guess it's a sign of recovery when I start hiccupping the words...now they're coming fast and furious.
Anyway: Vegas. Tourists. Fat, lazy American tourists, or so it seems. I tried walking down the strip a little bit today to get a feel for the city, but I just wanted to smack all the fat lazy people standing around gawking at all the blatantly obvious tourist shit. Oh, look! A man-made volcano! Big fucking deal. Same with the pirate ship and the rest of that shit.
And gambling. Fuck!
It's like investing in something with zero percent return. Fucking A! Unless you've developed the poker skills, you're a fucking sucker.
Anyway, I'm really fucked up right now. Concentrating-on-not-puking fucked up. The problem here is that the tap water tastes like chlorinated shit and won't make me feel any better.
Derek and Anoki and I were in some club and I only ordered water and they gave me a $5 bottle! Fuckin' ripoff. Yet, if I [illegible] drinking tap water now I'll be praying to the toilet all night. Now, due to my own self-induced inebriation, I have to stay awake LONGER just to keep the nausea at bay.
Shana tonight took my cell phone and started texting Amber with all sorts of shit that made me look like a lech. I guess she was right; if Amber were really interested, she'd have been at the wax-museum event, and if not who cares how stupid I seem?
I've had bile in my throat at least three times tonight. Hopefully I can hold everything down long enough to go to sleep.
Darren + open bar = fucked up.
I ate and drank so much that even though it's been 2+ hours since my last drink I'm getting more and more drunk. I'm even slurring words in the notebook I'm writing this in.
I guess it's a sign of recovery when I start hiccupping the words...now they're coming fast and furious.
Anyway: Vegas. Tourists. Fat, lazy American tourists, or so it seems. I tried walking down the strip a little bit today to get a feel for the city, but I just wanted to smack all the fat lazy people standing around gawking at all the blatantly obvious tourist shit. Oh, look! A man-made volcano! Big fucking deal. Same with the pirate ship and the rest of that shit.
And gambling. Fuck!
It's like investing in something with zero percent return. Fucking A! Unless you've developed the poker skills, you're a fucking sucker.
Anyway, I'm really fucked up right now. Concentrating-on-not-puking fucked up. The problem here is that the tap water tastes like chlorinated shit and won't make me feel any better.
Derek and Anoki and I were in some club and I only ordered water and they gave me a $5 bottle! Fuckin' ripoff. Yet, if I [illegible] drinking tap water now I'll be praying to the toilet all night. Now, due to my own self-induced inebriation, I have to stay awake LONGER just to keep the nausea at bay.
Shana tonight took my cell phone and started texting Amber with all sorts of shit that made me look like a lech. I guess she was right; if Amber were really interested, she'd have been at the wax-museum event, and if not who cares how stupid I seem?
I've had bile in my throat at least three times tonight. Hopefully I can hold everything down long enough to go to sleep.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Sunlight can do wonderful things for my mood.
I was walking home from the bike shop (routine maintenance this time, thankfully) and it was sunny and windy and cold, and I thought to myself how relaxing it was to just walk and listen to music without a huge amount of time pressure to be anywhere or just do something.
Last night I was talking with Dana in her lab, and she brought up how lucky I was that I love my career. Which is true. I may be draining myself out now with school, and have no life or anything, but it's an investment in my future. I have goals and a vision for my life, and my work actually helps people and gives me some purpose, so I do have something.
Anyway, this weekend will be purely relaxation and just a little bit of learning, so hopefully my mind and body return to Chicago refreshed.
Last night I was talking with Dana in her lab, and she brought up how lucky I was that I love my career. Which is true. I may be draining myself out now with school, and have no life or anything, but it's an investment in my future. I have goals and a vision for my life, and my work actually helps people and gives me some purpose, so I do have something.
Anyway, this weekend will be purely relaxation and just a little bit of learning, so hopefully my mind and body return to Chicago refreshed.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Empty life
Trish called me today to talk and say hi...and I really had nothing to tell her. Not that I didn't want to talk to her, I just had nothing to talk about. My life is really that empty, I realized. It's all school and music, and really, most people don't give two shits about either. I mean, half the time when I go out with people I feel like I was invited as an afterthought or out of pity.
I wonder how bad things will have to get before I get over my shyness and get proactive about making new friends.
I wonder how bad things will have to get before I get over my shyness and get proactive about making new friends.
Monday, October 09, 2006
$67 is the most I've ever paid for a show by about $40 or so.
I'm getting psyched for my trip to Vegas this weekend...I mean, free four-star hotel, some possibly interesting educational opportunities (NO, I am not talking about prostitution!) and a great show.
So far it's cost me $299 for the airline tix and $67 to see the Pogues and Against Me! on Saturday night. Ticketbastard added something like $12 in fees to a "$52" ticket (House of Blueshit added another $3 "facility charge"). I believe that's worthy of being called financial ass-rape. I'm gonna try and flow as much free food from the conference as I can. Hopefully I can avoid the over-priced club alcohol. Free reception at Madam Tussaud's Friday night, though, so that should fill me up.
I"m fucking excited. The next month is going to be crazy show-wise:
The Pogues/Against Me!
The Falcon/The Copyrights
The Bouncing Souls/The Street Dogs/The World/Inferno Friendship Society
Lucero
The Lawrence Arms
Heavens
I may not have any voice left by Thanksgiving. Rock on.
Anyway, I've got to plan on doing some laundry and cutting my hair before I take off on Thursday. I finally feel like I'm getting handle on my thesis, though, which is nice. I ate a free half-chicken for dinner tonight. It's no wonder I've gained weight.
So far it's cost me $299 for the airline tix and $67 to see the Pogues and Against Me! on Saturday night. Ticketbastard added something like $12 in fees to a "$52" ticket (House of Blueshit added another $3 "facility charge"). I believe that's worthy of being called financial ass-rape. I'm gonna try and flow as much free food from the conference as I can. Hopefully I can avoid the over-priced club alcohol. Free reception at Madam Tussaud's Friday night, though, so that should fill me up.
I"m fucking excited. The next month is going to be crazy show-wise:
The Pogues/Against Me!
The Falcon/The Copyrights
The Bouncing Souls/The Street Dogs/The World/Inferno Friendship Society
Lucero
The Lawrence Arms
Heavens
I may not have any voice left by Thanksgiving. Rock on.
Anyway, I've got to plan on doing some laundry and cutting my hair before I take off on Thursday. I finally feel like I'm getting handle on my thesis, though, which is nice. I ate a free half-chicken for dinner tonight. It's no wonder I've gained weight.
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