Certain spatial regions of my brain are suffering neurotransmitter depletion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pillar of doom:






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

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

Oh, yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...or Guinness.

You can sequentially watch Les devour meat




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


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

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

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

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

Daylight savings is fucking killing me.

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


Of course, the pool seemed very warm by comparison:

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


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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

R-O-C-K Rock

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

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

And then, ten pages later:

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

I love that fucking book.

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

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

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

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

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

A lonely liver, suspended in liquid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My bike ride this morning was wonderful.

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

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

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

Bleh.

That is all.

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

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

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

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

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

.....

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

.....

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

.....

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

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

Sidekicks and scheduling confusion

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

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

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

"And after that there's sleep."

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

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

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

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

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

....

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

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

.....

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

.....

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

.....

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

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

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

More iGod...

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

Chat with iGod

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

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

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

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

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

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

....

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

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

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

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

Go play with iGod. It's hilarious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More from Life After God:

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

Stinky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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