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.

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:

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."

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.