just me tonight... had one of those spectacular nights i have from now and again where i feel that trite, silly, silly connection between all living things and (duh) myself... thinking of how life is like a maze of doors and they all open from the side you're on- thinking about how i love riding the last T and seeing all the lovers and drunken strike-out-ers on the train, running home to be with eachother, or running home to be alone, or running home to run away from the sun... someday, hey, we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun... when things'll be brighter. the five stairsteps taking me back home... the music lifting up the scene to a height, man, i never felt like that before... before i came here, child. it's a toast night. a toast to the people who made me me- a toast to Nilay, to Regina, to Neil - too Ann, who promised me we'd be together if her love, her life love fades out, if it fades we'll open it up - we'll put it together and we'll get it undone. to the people who should never know they made me stay, who made it worth the trouble- to Mike to Evan to Chris, the emperor ego himself, the tribe, the darkness - to Lauren, my heartstumping love, when the world is much brighter, for love that ain't so burning, for a sister. my first family of soul. for Pete the spirit of the west in me, the spirit of wolves and fire and wild.... the waves break over you in laughter, in perpetual joy and freedom, in the wind, the wind of my soul. for Michelle my queen, my goddess, my true north. you're still the one by which i chart my course... to J my child. rest your bones, kid. to the Mustang, the bullet, the 88mph, to the 68, to the FOUR, to the Treetops.
that's all i got for tonight.
4.30.2005
EMOTION
4.27.2005
SECONDS
today was one of those days where i catch up on all my phone messages that i'd been putting off, mostly because i don't like to acknowledge the nightmarish reality that is my life and instead self-medicate, turn on the daily show/Red Sox, and laugh/weep/do coke of hookers' asses myself to sleep without a second thought about reaching out and touching another person in my normal work week, but today i was just feeling saucy. plus i know a ton of kick-ass people (and, yes, that includes mom and dad). i called a friend of mine to see how her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend situation was working out, and secretly i want her to go out and treat herself to a good time because, as i later realized in one of my classic moments of utterly worthless self discovery, the second sexual partner you have is just as monumental as the first... bear with me...
the first time has it's classic merits, so i shan't illustrate that point.... doogie howser and kevin arnold explained as much to me before i was old enough to explore such things anyway.
the second sexual partner, on the other hand, is your first opportunity to showcase all the nifty little tricks you learned from the last one that worked ohh so well (yes, in this example i'm equating the loss of one's virginity to a test audience). how is this one different from the last? compare and contrast, citing specific examples from the literature (i almost allowed myself to type 'cliterature' there, but it seemed like the lazy tool of a weak mind). your new partner may also show you a thing or two you hadn't considered, yes?
but what stuck with me most about good ol' #2 was the feeling of what i'll call pimpdaddyness. i recall thinking to myself while awkwardly positioning my quaking body over.... oh christ, what was her name? kidding. ...thinking how i wanted to climb the nearest mountain/tree/circus tent pole, throw my head back, and joyously proclaim, 'HEY EVERYONE, LOOK AT ME! I HAVE HAD MULTIPLE SEXUAL PARTNERS!! HOSANNAH!!'
like i was flippin' james bond or some shit. like i was some notorious european player controlling all heroin trade from the baltic sea into western europe via the parisian underworld. oh yea. just like that. like i was going to look down and say, 'don't worry, babe, i've done this before...' and give her that coy little dean martin wink and blow her mind.
one's a lucky break, two's real talent dean-o. now let's go take a steam.
kinda like the first time you legally bought beer for the freshman in your dorm- how they all looked at you like you were jesus christ, himself- how you looked down into their watery, adoring eyes, swiped big fistfulls of their parents' money from their trembling hands, and nodded confidently... 'don't worry kid, i've done this before.'
now the third time, that's a different story. like, maybe, the first time you didn't get carded buying alcohol? i dunno. work the rest out for me.
4.25.2005
ATTACK OF THE CLONEFUCKER!
ack. reckless, your shameless promotion (and self-promotion) of hyde park records has provoked me into bringin' tha noize. enter Shäffer the Darklord and his modern take on narcissism in attack of the clonefucker . please enjoy responsibly.
and reckless, when you're done with that little morsel, i think you'll actually enjoy this.
4.24.2005
OOOOHH YEA!
big thanks to pete for posting some witch doctor remedies to revive my wolfish libido, though as of right this very second they have failed to produce the desired results. but i told you this story, not because i want you to share in the roller-coaster ride that is my sexual health, but because i want to share this gem i found with you:
"She sat in the lab, all alone, hunched over looking through her microscope. Her long, silky blonde hair fell over her white lab coat. She sat up and stretched, reaching her hands high above her head. In the cold, sterile lab air, her nipples pressed against her starchy ironed shirt. She rubbed her shoulder and sighed. She wondered where her dashingly handsome coworker was at the moment. She looked out into space and thought about the way he looked in his lab coat. So sexy. He always looked so strong and tan, belying the long hours he worked trying to save the world one microbe at a time. Suddenly, she heard a noise in the hall that brought her back from her day dreams. She walked outside to go investigate. There he stood in a black shirt and grey slacks. Surprised, she stammered out a greeting."Forgot my notes." he said, ignoring her blunder. He secretly thought she was very pretty, although she was shy. Tonight, with her long blond hair loose around her shoulders she looked particularly appealling. Especially since he could see the outline of her pert, round breasts through her shirt...."
almost seems like it was written just for me, doesn't it? "one microbe at a time" really flips my switch...
sweet dreams, kids.
SHOW ME YOUR ASS WINNETKA!
i often felt as if i had been born into the wrong era; as if my own personal style of life had been lost in the tumult of this modern age.... i just thought of that. i think it sounds pretty impressive, especially when read from a biography that might someday be written about me. well, that plus the fact that i've just been reading a few old-timey books to pass the time tonight.
and i enjoy self-agrandizing now and then.
anyway, to the ass we go...
the metra north from downtown chicago to kenosha is a fine place to find yourself, that is it's a fine place to find yourself wedged between multiple felons while you look out the window at the ass of northeastern illinios. no one wants to live or work near a high-speed train line, you understand, so no one builds anything remotely scenic along the line. instead you get to see all the rusted-out tin shacks behind equally dark warehouses of equally dark contents decorated with rotten, rusted-out corpses of giant mid-70's puke-green-with-brown-trim sedans. it was somewhere around winnetka when i realized how just absolutely god forsaken the scene turned out to be.
i had a pretty decent view from my customary top-level seat on the train, and as i looked ahead down the track i noticed three men taking a cigarette break behind the plant/warehouse/factory/shitbox in which they were working. one of the men was making some kind of rhythmic gesture at the passing train, and as i strained to decipher his semaphoric code, i realized he was making the 'thumbs up' sign with his left hand and broad, sweeping jerk-off motions with his right. well done there, my man, well done.
i felt suddenly grateful to be boarding a plane for boston that night where i knew i'd be spared the ass of all major metropolitan areas between lake michigan and the eastern seaboard.
i sure hope that guy finds whatever it is he's looking for in life. keep reaching for that rainbow, guy.
4.23.2005
UPDATES
i haven't felt much like writing anything interesting lately. is it the drugs, these groovy one-a-day tablets that make the time fly by? perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.... not that interesting things haven't happened to me, you understand. i managed to hit on a 40 year old divorcee the other night who has a phenomenal body and above average euchre skills; two character traits i value above all and, yes, specifically in that order.
on the other hand, time does seem to be accelerating for me these days. check-out time is fast approaching, and i have yet to make any serious plans for the fall, so i could blame it all on my need to sabotage all existing ties to this place in order to achieve closure far in advance of my absence. but that would disguise my laziness and general disinterest to achieve overall.
no matter. in the end i think i'll just commit to being a pirate. a fine and good one at that. i'll call myself the Dread Pirate Cockmobster and roam the pacific sea, looting ships bound for san fernando and robbing them of their precious porn cargo.
yea, like i'm the only one keeping that hundred-billion dollar industry alive.
sleep tight. tomorrow marks the two week anniversary of my trip through winnetka. don't think i've forgotten i owe you a post. a post about ass.
4.16.2005
i•ro•ny
i will now define irony as it pertains to my current situation
1. i'm alone in my apartment. i can't leave, and i'm planning on staying in bed all day. it's painful to put clothes on. i don't have a girlfriend, but i do have a high-speed internet connection. i'm bored.
2. acute trauma to the lower spinal column inhibits sustained sympathetic stimulation of the lower appendages. muscle relaxants and other like-prescribed pain killers can deter the large rush of blood to certain areas in order to prevent excessive swelling.
i, dear friends, have discovered hell.
APPARENTLY YOU GET LAID MORE IF YOU HAVE A DOG
sunday was a glorious day for hangover recovery; reg and i went out for breakfast and coffee in the morning, and damned if i didn't get a bit of a suntan that morning. my body had finished metabolizing the three burritos and gallons of liver-pickling sauce that had so effortlessly gone down the night before, and i was feelin' mighty fine.
disheveled, unshaven, cigarette-reeking, unclean, and obviously wearing the bar clothes from the night before, the boys and i walk like barrio desperados behind our sweet-smelling and sparkling birthday girl (and her dog) to the park for a little canine social hour with the other dogs from the neighborhood (and their owners, of course). on our arrival, we meet up with three friendly strangers doing the same, one of which is a very attractive young woman who has what reckless will later describe as having "tremendous, tremendous breasts.... just fantastic."
many pet owners will tell stories about their dogs/cats/fish/cows that are interesting to no one, including other devout pet owners, but this day threatened to change all that. allow me to try and recreate the story as it was told by Ms. tremendousnoobs:
"so and so has a girl dog, but she only hangs out with boy dogs, so when she pees, she thinks she should pee like a boy dog and puts both her legs up behind her..."
an unremarkable story, until it ended with:
"...like this"
i have seen some amazing things in my lifetime, i really have. mostly i try not to reason the magic out those moments with a 'why' or a 'how' or a 'i didn't know you could be on all fours and spread-eagle at the same time'... but i will say this:
i need to get me a dog.
4.15.2005
ET TU GOOGLE?
goddamnit i have the lamest fucking list of hits when i google my name. i don't even share a name with anyone interesting out there so at lease some confused person will ask me, "hey! weren't you on that australian kids show with all the kangaroos and hot bitches from daytime television?"
on the other hand, this blog now returns three hits from Yahoo! search, one of which appears on a list of blogs that mention spongebob squarepants.
so much for infamy...
la la la laaaaaa... la la laaaa la laaa.... bored and crippled.... can't go out and get loaded.... la la laaa
PETROVSKI
my motherfucker's so cool, when he goes to bed sheep count him....
good luck on the MCATs, dawg.
try this on. it might take your mind in a different direction for awhile.
4.14.2005
BIGGER BOOBS = BETTER PLAY
goddamnit, as long as i can't do a goddamn thing today i might as well continue the travelogue from last weekend. it's the least i can do for you. actually the least i could do would be absolutely nothing, but then i'd be a dick.
i used to be a fat, lazy bastard, then i joined a gym and now i'm less of a fat, lazy bastard. a few of you have noticed (thank you!), but few have gone so far as to grope me and encourage others to grope me than the birthday girl, herself... reg, i don't know what compelled you to fondle my chest as if such things were appropriate behavior, but then to make strange women massage my (lightly intoxicated) body? that's just insanity! i mean, honestly, we belong to the same church congregation! (the name escapes me at the moment, but that's neither here nor there).
let's not for one itty-bitty second pretend that i didn't like it, but let's not ignore the important issue it brings to the table.... i'm trying to promote the image of pretend man-whore, not actual man-whore (much like the difference between executive transvestite and weirdo transvestite, agreed?). OR, as i implore you to either defend or refute, am i, in fact, an actual man-whore? because i have learned, as billions of women have already realized, if you have boobs, you hold the keys to the universe.
reckless, i expect no fewer than 1000 words on that last point...
happy birthday, reg. thanks for an awesome time in chicago.
neil, flying across the country for a fiesta is completely underrated.
UBERPISSED
i haven't missed a day of work/school because of illness in over 10 years, yet here i am flat on my back on a weekday, pissed off to motherfucking hell with a thousand knives of fire stabbing me in my worthless, twisted spine. i took a shower about 45 minutes ago and prayed for a quick death the whole time... my back muscles, in an attempt to contain one treacherous, deceitful disk, have seized up like a siberian railroad, rendering me utterly useless...
now i'm not saying i want you people to shower me with more narcotics than one might normally find at a colombian bar mitzvah... because that would be against the law... but i'm not, not saying i want you people to shower me with more narcotics than one might normally find at a colombian bar mitzvah. in fact, i'll give you a hundred bucks to come over to my house and bash my brains in with all 35" of Louisville maple... you can even have my stereo.
if you are coming over to brain me, please be advised that my current situation prevents me from bending my craptastic spine in any way, so i am stark raving naked....
incidentally, if you're 1/3 of a hot set of young triplets, please phone your sisters and come to my house...
goddamnit i'm so pissed off right now...
4.13.2005
I'LL SHOW YOU MINE IF YOU SHOW ME YOURS....
midwesterners are friendly. we like you. we don't know you, but we like you.
if you run into one of us and we've never met, we'll talk to you... for quite awhile. someday down the road, should we pass each other again, we'll remember that conversation oh so long ago. contrast that with boston where, if i happen to bump into you walking down the street, i'll go find my car, pay 30 bucks to leave the parking lot, find you again so i may honk at you and give you the finger (however, should you be wearing red sox gear, i'll allow you the courtesy of yelling, "go sox!" as i drive away).
i'm at the bar in chicago about to pick up the first round of drinks, getting requests from people i had just met, and playing the "i wonder what you're like in bed based on what you order from the bar*" game. a woman i had not yet met orders a shot of tequila on ice. i give her the 'quoi?' look, and notice an intricate tattoo on her wrist. sensing my A-game a'warmin' up, i compliment her on her artwork... to my surprise she stops, looks down at her bits and pieces, and gives me a look like she somehow just woke up and realized the two of us had been having sex. (i'm quite familiar with this look... less panic, more wonder- how on earth did i find myself in this situation?).
my wolfish ears perked up...
in short, i nearly ended up pants-less with a half-naked woman i had known for less than 90 seconds with reckless betting on whose tattoo was bigger. However, a close analysis of the night would reveal she was in need of a little conditioner; a fact that spared me junk exposure at that time (though as anyone close to me will attest, i have never been afraid of junk exposure).
alas, i will always be left with the lingering question as to whether or not that tattoo goes all the way to her vagina... a question that will no doubt haunt me to the end of my days.
*play this game! it's wicked awesome fun!
4.12.2005
ONE MOTHERFUCKING NORDSTROM TOO MANY
i had never been to the oak brook mall until that night...
for those of you who have never made the pilgrimage to this place, i suggest you bring a sturdy pair of walking shoes and a three-day supply of fresh drinking water. oak brook plaza is roughly the same size and shape as the vatican, with it's own plutocratic government (lord & taylor playing a larger role in policy-making than say an old navy), it's own law enforcement, chamber of commerce, and an impressive foreign policy based on land acquisition and import/export monopoly. in short, the oak brook mall is the shittiest place on earth to try and locate another person.
says i to N: i'm outside the tj maxx by nordstrom
says N to i: are you in the inner circle, the outer ring, or the outside outside ring?
i to N: there's an inner circle? like a coven?
N to i: sort of... there is a massive parking structure there...
i to N: parking?
N to i: yes, which part are you in
i: outside between the stores and the parking lot. what do you see?
N: endless rows of stores... it's like the matrix in here.... there's a parking lot?
i: yes, by nordstrom.... it's on the corner.... if you can just find the fucking nordstrom, we'll be fine. just drive to the goddamn nordstrom, goddamn you!
N: i just passed two nordstroms... so help me god, i think they're multiplying...
and that's how i knew i had reached the end of the universe.
4.10.2005
ANOTHER ONE FOR THE BOOKS
i have always and firmly believed that the best things happen in the absence of anything remotely akin to a plan (now simply, plan, as it's been relegated to 4-letter-word-status in my personal rulebook. begone, vile plan, says i... back to the pit with you). so, too, unfolds another drunken, debaucherous weekend with my litigious rockstar friend and co-conspirator, Reckless (perhaps you and i should drop the nicknaming... the absence of innocence precludes the need to protect it, n'est pas?).
since i'm travel weary, and i don't feel like writing everything down just now, i shall entice you with the following titles of future posts so you can drool over the mounting anticipation of my storytelling:
ONE MOTHERFUCKING NORDSTROM TOO MANY
I'LL SHOW YOU MINE IF YOU SHOW ME YOURS; DOES THAT TATTOO GO ALL THE WAY TO YOUR VAGINA? YOU REQUIRE CONDITIONER.
BIGGER BOOBS = BETTER PLAY
APPARENTLY YOU GET LAID MORE IF YOU HAVE A DOG
and the one i'm most excited about:
SHOW ME YOUR ASS, WINNETKA!
a few of you will find this instantly hilarious. i would like to take this opportunity to thank you for welcoming me into your fine city and lending me your dog for the day.
4.07.2005
AAANNNNNDDD..... GO!
go find a quiet place and listen to Purple Rain. if you're at work, look up the lyrics and sing along in your head...
4.06.2005
LE RANT
i have come to the following conclusions based on nothing more than my high, high expectations for each and every one of my flock:
behind every giant pile of bullshit cowers a shivering, little bull who's lost his big, bully momma, and no matter how sympathetic i am to the little bull, i hate smelling like shit. let's explore, citing specific examples from the literature....
1) if you have to talk about how uber-cool all your friends are, and how many girls you know, and how cool they are, and just how oh-so-cool your hangouts are, you bore me. are you applying for a job? quit giving me your resume. you know who does that? highschool girls. coolness is not associative.
2) if you go out of your way to specifically tell me how cool you are (e.g. "because i'm the greatest") and how uncool everyone else is (e.g. "you're all a disgrace"), you're not impressing me. this attitude is about as shallow as a paper plate, but--more importantly--it lacks the creativity and imagination that make people interesting. if you're going to be arrogant, at least put some effort into making it charming. like me, for example.
some of you might say, "hey! they're just insecure! stop being so insensitive, you bully!" and i turn my head to heaven and beg, "oh Lord, please grant thy humble servant a multitude of asses so verily they may all be kissed in turn!" ... and let me tell you why... are you listening? good.
i'm ridiculously lanky. my head is a little too small for my body. i'm not as assertive as i should be. i'm a little on the lazy side. i'm intimidated by extremely attractive women. i'm insecure and can be passive aggressive as a result.
and?
and nothing. big fucking deal. so what. i don't have to go around acting like an insufferable cock just because i'm not perfect. you're insecure? boo-fucking-hoo. way to advertise.
sit in your special chair and daddy will give you a little bit of advice: being honest gets you way better tang than being shallow and overbearing.
do some of you disagree with my methods? get over yourself. i don't say things like this because i hate these people; i love these people, and i don't want to see them make anyone else feel like they do. more to the point, i don't want to see them shit on themselves anymore. it bores me.
and i hate being bored.
sack up and stop acting like a child. be real, and i promise to compliment you on your new hairdo.
i have insecurities, too. it's the one thing everyone has in common.
of course, i may just be comfortable with myself because i believe my penis to be above average.... didn't occur to me until just now-
will have to think about that one....
4.04.2005
THE WIND
ahhh the universe can be so poignant with it's lessons for me.... without sounding insensitive, i might say that each one of us has to pull a feeding tube now and again; to learn to let go when the inevitable has arrived and we can't quite rise to face it. courage is underrated.
i'm an eternal optimist. i believe you hopeless fucks will one day prove that all my sacrifice has been worthwhile, but you really can't win every battle, can you? once in awhile you take a gamble that doesn't pay off; one that makes you wonder how much, over weeks and months, you gave up to play a part in something you were doomed to forfeit in the end. long odds are tough odds, and every loss is a hard one.
on the other hand, i should have known better. i knew i was putting in more than i could get back, but i didn't care. you'll all prove me wrong now and again, but i'll sit quietly and continue to expect the best from you with a smug, shit-eating grin on my face... like i know you all will come around.
even if you don't, it really doesn't matter in the end. today i'm the shit. tomorrow i'll be the shit. that won't change.
still, it's sad to see one slip away from me like this. how did i manage to get so caught up i lost sight of who was going to meet me in the middle? no one came there, so i sat down in the grass and waited patiently for anyone to show up, but no one came around. it's been such a hell of a long time since i've been waiting for something to happen, i hardly remember what the point was in the first place.
i realize there's something tragic about hope left unanswered, but i hoped anyway.
now i think i'll learn to accept all this with grace. time spent expecting the best is time well spent and, though i still feel incredibly cheated, i won't look back with bitterness. no one took anything from me i didn't offer.
i just wish there were another voice out there to echo my own this time.
fuck it. i'll do it all the same way tomorrow. that won't change. i'm too old to change. you'll just have to get used to me.
4.03.2005
DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME
'saving' in this case is a verbal adjective, so 'daylight saving time' would be more appropriate....
and just where the fuck did my hour of sleep go last night, huh?! YOU GODDAMN THIEVING BASTARDS!!!
4.02.2005
TO NEW FRIENDS
how in the hell did i end up celebrating a stranger's 21st birthday tonight? i choose not to scrutinize every silly little detail of my life. it's how i get by. on the other hand, you really have to sit back and marvel at how awesome it is to witness a 21 with family involved... kind of takes me back to my own 21 when my sister managed to cram 24 shots down my throat before i made out with her friend and passed out in the milwaukee hilton waterpark. in my defense, i didn't puke or piss myself. that's good.
met some pretty badass people tonight through pretty interesting circumstances, but that's really what i expected anyway. don't know how i managed to spend $135, but complete strangers only turn 21 once, right? i'm sure i'll see some of you again soon. rock.
glad i got a chance to hang out with A and K tonight- and to C, thanks for dragging my ass out of the house. can't watch the discovery channel all goddamn day, now can i?
FOR PFIEF
caught the train early last night to have a drink with a young family friend over whom i hold a 'protect and serve' position (i.e. you touch her, i'm supposed to bash your head in).... pretty tall order considering my... um... 'swimmer's build.' it's a courtesy. dad asked me real nice like, and i used to play basketball for her granddad, so i do my best to watch out for her, you know, make sure she doesn't get screwed on a lease, pay her fare if she pukes in the cab... standard big-brother stuff.
not so bad, right? well, someone once told me that women are kinda like snowflakes... each one has her own unique kind of crazy. this one is no exception. after working in her current job for exactly 4 days, she's managed to fall in love with someone there, and drive another kid to quit his job out of heartbroken anguish. (at this point in her story i'm fighting the urge to snort guinness out my nose i'm laughing so hard). 4 days. and to prove her point, she gets him on the phone and convinces him to take a 30 min cab ride at 2 am to come see her.
this sort of thing happened to me once.... in 6th grade i think.
stumbling home, i started thinking how crazy that was (and how i was going to have to whup someone's ass sooner or later.... it's a shame, billy ray's a peaceful man), but maybe not so crazy. what's wrong with a little impulsiveness now and again?
so next time i hear someone's getting kicked out of a bar for gettin' it on in the bathroom, or trading sex for coke, i think i'll be a little more patient.
after all... my ass is going back to school next year.
and god bless comedy central for running Real Genius every saturday morning. and god bless Real Genius... 'as soon as we apply a field, we couple to a state that is radiatively coupled to the ground state'? sure. 'It's possible to synthesize excited bromide in and argon matrix?' why not. and Reckless, how badly do you want a video montage in your life right now?
jesus christ, am i hungover this morning.
4.01.2005
PLEASANT SURPRISES
go here. read. enjoy.
thanks for the encouragement, edithved. your blog is fantastic.
SPRING REVIVAL
i will admit i was mad at you, so i quit. no one had anything to say but me, and it seemed like a fine time to put an end to all this and move on to better, more constructive, things.... like hunting for elusive, high-quality internet porn. then i received the following comment about this blog:
"it's funny... and you're clearly in love with yourself."
now i'm not much for sentimentality, but if that doesn't moisten your delicate eyelids, prepare yourself for a long and rewarding career as a sadist.
so i've decided to come back and bitch and moan and whine about every little goddamn thing for the pure and decent sake of entertainment until i get bored and start throwing pies at carl rove from distance ("operation righteous-pie"). that is all.
