I was going to try to look on the bright side and post something mildly amusing about the mysterious disappearance of my cat, but two days later, I'm having a hard time finding it amusing, even if the circumstances were really bizarre. I just want him to come home.
Tips for removing old bloodstains? Anyone? I hear bleach works well?
Relax. I tend to hack the shit out of my legs while shaving, and I also tend to shave in the shower, which I tend to take at night right before bed, where I tend to sleep in the buff, leaving rather unsightly bloodstains on my sheets and blankets. I'm kind of meh, whatever about it, but the other person who shares the bed with me seems to find them kind of gross. I must admit, on the cream colored sheets and comforter I just busted out (to celebrate Spring!), they do kinda stand out.
I'm cooking up one hell of a dinner tonight. Griots, orange rice, fried plantains, some avocado... hopefully it'll be delicious. Harold is gonna come eat it with me, which is awesome, because the prospect of eating it all by myself wasn't really that appealing.
Dating someone who works nights is kind of lame, I gotta say.
I read an amazing novel yesterday, How Many Miles to Babylon? by Jennifer Jonhston. Phenomenal. Starring two young Irishmen fighting in WW1. Highly recommended.
I've been listening to a lot of klezmer today. Klezmer is awesome. And surprisingly, works well with a hangover - it's simultaneously rousing and soothing.
I have all these things I need to take care of - writing an article for Caterwaul Quarterly, renewing my passport, applying for money, applying for jobs, some translation work, coming up with paper topics for my students, and it all seems horrifically overwhelming. Really, can't I just work on my dissertation? Even just buying groceries or walking to the mailbox seem like the epic tasks for some reason. Baby steps. Baby steps.
A blogger I really like points out that any name that is fitting for a cocktail, bar, or racehorse, is likely fitting for the other two as well. She suggests Cockpuncher. I kind of like Dodo, for some reason. Your ideas?
Relax. I tend to hack the shit out of my legs while shaving, and I also tend to shave in the shower, which I tend to take at night right before bed, where I tend to sleep in the buff, leaving rather unsightly bloodstains on my sheets and blankets. I'm kind of meh, whatever about it, but the other person who shares the bed with me seems to find them kind of gross. I must admit, on the cream colored sheets and comforter I just busted out (to celebrate Spring!), they do kinda stand out.
I'm cooking up one hell of a dinner tonight. Griots, orange rice, fried plantains, some avocado... hopefully it'll be delicious. Harold is gonna come eat it with me, which is awesome, because the prospect of eating it all by myself wasn't really that appealing.
Dating someone who works nights is kind of lame, I gotta say.
I read an amazing novel yesterday, How Many Miles to Babylon? by Jennifer Jonhston. Phenomenal. Starring two young Irishmen fighting in WW1. Highly recommended.
I've been listening to a lot of klezmer today. Klezmer is awesome. And surprisingly, works well with a hangover - it's simultaneously rousing and soothing.
I have all these things I need to take care of - writing an article for Caterwaul Quarterly, renewing my passport, applying for money, applying for jobs, some translation work, coming up with paper topics for my students, and it all seems horrifically overwhelming. Really, can't I just work on my dissertation? Even just buying groceries or walking to the mailbox seem like the epic tasks for some reason. Baby steps. Baby steps.
A blogger I really like points out that any name that is fitting for a cocktail, bar, or racehorse, is likely fitting for the other two as well. She suggests Cockpuncher. I kind of like Dodo, for some reason. Your ideas?
I'm generally a big fan of all things bodily and medical, especially gross things, but stitches have always creeped me out. So the fact that my mouth is currently full of them, and they're poking the inside of my lower lip, is really not cool.
But anyhow, after a day of agony that I thankfully mostly slept through, I woke up today feeling only somewhat achy and generally rejuvenated. And proceeded to read:
Snow White, by Donald Barthelme - kind of fun, but very, uh, postmodern. In the sense that there's not really a plot. But there's something very satisfying about the prose.
A Negro Looks at Soviet Central Asia, by Langston Hughes - kind of fascinating. Langston Hughes sure did love the USSR. I wrote a review of it on my blog, if you're interested.
And then finished Remembrance and Imagination, by Joep Leerssen, on 19th century Irish historical imagination. Pretty interesting, but probably only to someone with a pretty intense interest in Irish literature/history.
And have just started Chicago, by Alaa Al Aswany, which so far is not so fantastic as I expected, but I'm only 70 pages in, so we'll see.
The bf left town for Vegas and California this morning. And because of the stupid dental surgery, I'm not supposed to drink or smoke (thank god for nicotine patches, else I would be completely insane. As is, they only barely keep my desire for cigarettes from making me nuts), so I'm inclined to hide out in my apartment and read books and watch movies. We'll see how long that lasts.
Also, for some reason, rather than making a big pot of soup I could re-heat and eat while my mouth is all ouchy, I went out and bought a bunch of canned soups. wtf. Canned soup is gross. I guess I very rarely eat ready made, preservative packed, processed food. It's disgusting. Thankfully, I'm feeling much livelier, so tonight I'm making potato and arugula soup. I've never tried it before. Arugula in soup seems really weird, but who knows, maybe it'll be delicious.
Also, I'm trying to download Pirates, and the internetz is not cooperating. Also, if you were really excited about Pirates 2, which I was, and considering dropping the $70 to acquire it - don't bother. It's totally not as good as the original. In fact, it's pretty lame. Which is a great pity.
But anyhow, after a day of agony that I thankfully mostly slept through, I woke up today feeling only somewhat achy and generally rejuvenated. And proceeded to read:
Snow White, by Donald Barthelme - kind of fun, but very, uh, postmodern. In the sense that there's not really a plot. But there's something very satisfying about the prose.
A Negro Looks at Soviet Central Asia, by Langston Hughes - kind of fascinating. Langston Hughes sure did love the USSR. I wrote a review of it on my blog, if you're interested.
And then finished Remembrance and Imagination, by Joep Leerssen, on 19th century Irish historical imagination. Pretty interesting, but probably only to someone with a pretty intense interest in Irish literature/history.
And have just started Chicago, by Alaa Al Aswany, which so far is not so fantastic as I expected, but I'm only 70 pages in, so we'll see.
The bf left town for Vegas and California this morning. And because of the stupid dental surgery, I'm not supposed to drink or smoke (thank god for nicotine patches, else I would be completely insane. As is, they only barely keep my desire for cigarettes from making me nuts), so I'm inclined to hide out in my apartment and read books and watch movies. We'll see how long that lasts.
Also, for some reason, rather than making a big pot of soup I could re-heat and eat while my mouth is all ouchy, I went out and bought a bunch of canned soups. wtf. Canned soup is gross. I guess I very rarely eat ready made, preservative packed, processed food. It's disgusting. Thankfully, I'm feeling much livelier, so tonight I'm making potato and arugula soup. I've never tried it before. Arugula in soup seems really weird, but who knows, maybe it'll be delicious.
Also, I'm trying to download Pirates, and the internetz is not cooperating. Also, if you were really excited about Pirates 2, which I was, and considering dropping the $70 to acquire it - don't bother. It's totally not as good as the original. In fact, it's pretty lame. Which is a great pity.
Friday evening my tooth started hurting. Meh, whatever, right? More whiskey'll cure that.
But as the night wore on, and the drinks and aspirins piled up, it kept hurting. A LOT. By Saturday morning I was popping vicodins like tictacs and trying to find a dentist who would see me on a Saturday. I found someone in my neighborhood who would see me Monday, and figured, ok, I can make it. More vicodin! I was a _little_ worried about teaching on Monday, but really, priorities, I mean, come on. I fired off an email to my parents to let them know what was up and they called IMMEDIATELY, panicked. omg you have to go to a dentist today or you will DIE. They literally thought I would die. Well ok, it's their credit card, so I called a few more places and found someone on Lincoln and Belmont who would see me. A very nice lady who basically opened her office just for me, which was very sweet, but doesn't quite make up for what came next.
A friend of mine gave me a ride to her office, I get there, she does an x-ray and is like, ok, so you've got an infection. Normally we'd do a root canal, but in this case it's between two teeth, so I'm not really sure what to do. So, uh... I'll give you a prescription for some antibiotics, and I'll "lance" the infection site and try to release some of its evil. But don't worry, I'll numb it first!
So she throws some topical anaesthetic on my gums and gives me an injection. Ouch. A minute or two later, my cheek is totally numb. She decides to clean around the infected area a bit.
Me: Ouch!
Her: Uh... you can feel that?
Me: Uh... yeah...
3 injections later, she's all, it must be numb now! And goes in with the sharp instrument. It was not numb. Not at all.
Her: Hmmm, I'm squeezing it, but there's no puss or anything coming out, just blood.
Me: aaaaaaaargggghcirngfnggnkjdngkjerng!
And she sent me on my merry way and told me to come back Monday and they'd, you know, figure something out.
So I'm taking the antibiotics, and meanwhile, the lump inside my gums is the size of a tictac and hurts like a motherfucker.
Sidenote: My boyfriend has no desire to look at it. In fact, he refuses to look at it. How weird is that?
So I decided to go with the appointment I originally had on Monday instead. The woman there, god bless her, took one look at it and was like, ok, yeah, here's what we need to do. She looked at the antibiotics I was prescribed and said they're way too weak. I told her they couldn't numb it and she wondered who this person was who doesn't know that if you wanna numb the inside of someone's gums, you have to do the injection in the back of their mouth. Yikes.
Anyways, long story short, there's some mysterious thing in my mouth that is eating my bones (which, when you think about it, is FUCKING TERRIFYING) and I'm on a shit-ton of antibiotics right now, with surgery scheduled for Saturday. They're gonna do a bone graft. I asked where the bone comes from, and apparently it's either synthetic, dead person, or animal. I'm hoping for animal. Specifically shark. Please Lord, give me shark teeth. I will be the awesomest human ever. Please.
By the way, class on Monday was... ok. 18 bright eyed bushy tailed students, and meanwhile I'm a total space cadet having spent the weekend on pain killers, so I'm like, OK! LET'S LEARN SHIT! And forgetting what I'm talking about every five minutes. Yikes. They didn't seem to mind too much. I had them list reasons for writing autobiographies, and we made a big list, which I know at some point I initially was going to use to make some good points, but instead I kinda stared at it for a minute and blinked a lot and was like, OK! WHAT A GREAT LIST, EH? EH? yowzers. Hopefully they don't all drop out before next class...
But as the night wore on, and the drinks and aspirins piled up, it kept hurting. A LOT. By Saturday morning I was popping vicodins like tictacs and trying to find a dentist who would see me on a Saturday. I found someone in my neighborhood who would see me Monday, and figured, ok, I can make it. More vicodin! I was a _little_ worried about teaching on Monday, but really, priorities, I mean, come on. I fired off an email to my parents to let them know what was up and they called IMMEDIATELY, panicked. omg you have to go to a dentist today or you will DIE. They literally thought I would die. Well ok, it's their credit card, so I called a few more places and found someone on Lincoln and Belmont who would see me. A very nice lady who basically opened her office just for me, which was very sweet, but doesn't quite make up for what came next.
A friend of mine gave me a ride to her office, I get there, she does an x-ray and is like, ok, so you've got an infection. Normally we'd do a root canal, but in this case it's between two teeth, so I'm not really sure what to do. So, uh... I'll give you a prescription for some antibiotics, and I'll "lance" the infection site and try to release some of its evil. But don't worry, I'll numb it first!
So she throws some topical anaesthetic on my gums and gives me an injection. Ouch. A minute or two later, my cheek is totally numb. She decides to clean around the infected area a bit.
Me: Ouch!
Her: Uh... you can feel that?
Me: Uh... yeah...
3 injections later, she's all, it must be numb now! And goes in with the sharp instrument. It was not numb. Not at all.
Her: Hmmm, I'm squeezing it, but there's no puss or anything coming out, just blood.
Me: aaaaaaaargggghcirngfnggnkjdngkjerng!
And she sent me on my merry way and told me to come back Monday and they'd, you know, figure something out.
So I'm taking the antibiotics, and meanwhile, the lump inside my gums is the size of a tictac and hurts like a motherfucker.
Sidenote: My boyfriend has no desire to look at it. In fact, he refuses to look at it. How weird is that?
So I decided to go with the appointment I originally had on Monday instead. The woman there, god bless her, took one look at it and was like, ok, yeah, here's what we need to do. She looked at the antibiotics I was prescribed and said they're way too weak. I told her they couldn't numb it and she wondered who this person was who doesn't know that if you wanna numb the inside of someone's gums, you have to do the injection in the back of their mouth. Yikes.
Anyways, long story short, there's some mysterious thing in my mouth that is eating my bones (which, when you think about it, is FUCKING TERRIFYING) and I'm on a shit-ton of antibiotics right now, with surgery scheduled for Saturday. They're gonna do a bone graft. I asked where the bone comes from, and apparently it's either synthetic, dead person, or animal. I'm hoping for animal. Specifically shark. Please Lord, give me shark teeth. I will be the awesomest human ever. Please.
By the way, class on Monday was... ok. 18 bright eyed bushy tailed students, and meanwhile I'm a total space cadet having spent the weekend on pain killers, so I'm like, OK! LET'S LEARN SHIT! And forgetting what I'm talking about every five minutes. Yikes. They didn't seem to mind too much. I had them list reasons for writing autobiographies, and we made a big list, which I know at some point I initially was going to use to make some good points, but instead I kinda stared at it for a minute and blinked a lot and was like, OK! WHAT A GREAT LIST, EH? EH? yowzers. Hopefully they don't all drop out before next class...
I think I'm over my Sasha Grey phase. I find her fascinating for a number of reasons, but damn, the talking gets old. Mostly how she keeps repeating "Gimme yr fat cock". Mix it up a little, Sasha. Please.
Ingrown hairs. I fucking hate ingrown hairs.
I always thought I didn't really give a shit about money or making a lot of it, but I realized that's not entirely true, because my dude and I _really_ wanna go to L2O for dinner and even with his 50% off coupon, we're not sure we're gonna be able to swing it. So ok, I want to make more money. Enough money that I can indulge my love of fine food more often. Oh, and fine liquors, while we're at it. Then again, given how much I indulge on my absolutely pathetic income, it really wouldn't take much.
Tonight we're going to Osteria via Stato (which I personally think is highly overrated, but hey, if you got a 50% off coupon, why not), where I may or may not splurge on the 20oz Prime Ribeye. I really want it. It's $42.95. I bought myself a 20 ouncer at the supermarket for under $15 not so long ago and seared it with plain ol' salt and lemon pepper and home and it was effin' awesome. Why in the fuck should I pay $42.95 for something I can easily make at home? But I'll bet it's soooo good. After that we're hitting up the Stereo Total show at the Bottom Lounge, which if you're in Chicago you should go to, because they are SO much fun live.
The friends and I threw a Progressive* last weekend, good times were had by all, as per usual. Ligaya demanded that I serve a drink on her behalf, Baijo and Red Bull. If you've never had Baijo, you have no idea how awful that is. Actually, I kinda like Baijo myself, though I'd rather drink it straight, but to most people, it's like asking them to drink asshole flavored gasoline. Most people obediently drank theirs, but there were a lot of complaints. To cheer them up, I made a Smoky Tiger (my own invention, kinda) - I infused some brandy with Lapsang Souchong tea (delicious on its own) and then combined it with some triple sec and a dash of bitters and garnished with an orange wedge. Yum.
I've been reading Diderot novels lately - I'm almost done with The Nun, and I finished Jacques the Fatalist a couple days ago. They're good times. Diderot is one sassy bitch.
I keep forgetting that I have a temporary membership here. I suppose I oughta take advantage of it more. You know what would help me do that? If the MY SG thing actually worked. All I wanna see is my friends' gdamn blog posts, but the shit just gives me the loading icon for 20 minutes. It's really fucking irritating.
*A Progressive is like a pub crawl, except instead of crawling between pubs, you crawl from one friend's house to another's, and everybody serves one drink at each one. Or, if you don't live in the 'hood, you serve a drink at someone else's stop. Or in the park.
Ingrown hairs. I fucking hate ingrown hairs.
I always thought I didn't really give a shit about money or making a lot of it, but I realized that's not entirely true, because my dude and I _really_ wanna go to L2O for dinner and even with his 50% off coupon, we're not sure we're gonna be able to swing it. So ok, I want to make more money. Enough money that I can indulge my love of fine food more often. Oh, and fine liquors, while we're at it. Then again, given how much I indulge on my absolutely pathetic income, it really wouldn't take much.
Tonight we're going to Osteria via Stato (which I personally think is highly overrated, but hey, if you got a 50% off coupon, why not), where I may or may not splurge on the 20oz Prime Ribeye. I really want it. It's $42.95. I bought myself a 20 ouncer at the supermarket for under $15 not so long ago and seared it with plain ol' salt and lemon pepper and home and it was effin' awesome. Why in the fuck should I pay $42.95 for something I can easily make at home? But I'll bet it's soooo good. After that we're hitting up the Stereo Total show at the Bottom Lounge, which if you're in Chicago you should go to, because they are SO much fun live.
The friends and I threw a Progressive* last weekend, good times were had by all, as per usual. Ligaya demanded that I serve a drink on her behalf, Baijo and Red Bull. If you've never had Baijo, you have no idea how awful that is. Actually, I kinda like Baijo myself, though I'd rather drink it straight, but to most people, it's like asking them to drink asshole flavored gasoline. Most people obediently drank theirs, but there were a lot of complaints. To cheer them up, I made a Smoky Tiger (my own invention, kinda) - I infused some brandy with Lapsang Souchong tea (delicious on its own) and then combined it with some triple sec and a dash of bitters and garnished with an orange wedge. Yum.
I've been reading Diderot novels lately - I'm almost done with The Nun, and I finished Jacques the Fatalist a couple days ago. They're good times. Diderot is one sassy bitch.
I keep forgetting that I have a temporary membership here. I suppose I oughta take advantage of it more. You know what would help me do that? If the MY SG thing actually worked. All I wanna see is my friends' gdamn blog posts, but the shit just gives me the loading icon for 20 minutes. It's really fucking irritating.
*A Progressive is like a pub crawl, except instead of crawling between pubs, you crawl from one friend's house to another's, and everybody serves one drink at each one. Or, if you don't live in the 'hood, you serve a drink at someone else's stop. Or in the park.
I love those moments in conversation when you're trying to work out something particularly complex, and then one of you throws out a metaphor, and a couple minutes later, the original topic has largely fallen by the wayside in favor of contemplating the many ways in which the metaphor is an apt characterization.
Other things I love at the moment include:
Toast, or rather, Toast Two, where I just had an absolutely fantastic breakfast of eggs benedict with prosciutto and truffle oil hollandaise - every time I go there I fully intend to order one of the other amazing looking things on the menu, and every time I fail;
The Foreign Exchange's latest album. It don't have to be so all or nothing...;
I've been pretty down about a lot of things lately, and really stressed out about a lot of other ones, but somehow, or perhaps because of that, there have also been a lot of moments where I feel like I'm more fully appreciating various aspects of my life, like the wonderful conversations I've had with the fantastic people in it, and it's a really lovely feeling;
Sunset Boulevard! I finally saw it, and oh man, it is an incredible movie.
My cat. He's so strange and awesome and his round little belly is so fluffy.
Blowing off my work to watch movies. Fuck it. It's a weekend. Besides, I just realized that it's Saturday, not Sunday. Woo!
Other things I love at the moment include:
Toast, or rather, Toast Two, where I just had an absolutely fantastic breakfast of eggs benedict with prosciutto and truffle oil hollandaise - every time I go there I fully intend to order one of the other amazing looking things on the menu, and every time I fail;
The Foreign Exchange's latest album. It don't have to be so all or nothing...;
I've been pretty down about a lot of things lately, and really stressed out about a lot of other ones, but somehow, or perhaps because of that, there have also been a lot of moments where I feel like I'm more fully appreciating various aspects of my life, like the wonderful conversations I've had with the fantastic people in it, and it's a really lovely feeling;
Sunset Boulevard! I finally saw it, and oh man, it is an incredible movie.
My cat. He's so strange and awesome and his round little belly is so fluffy.
Blowing off my work to watch movies. Fuck it. It's a weekend. Besides, I just realized that it's Saturday, not Sunday. Woo!
You know, the nice thing about having an SG blog again is that it gives me a place to post random shit that doesn't really seem to belong anywhere else. SO!
i HATE yelp.com. I do. It brings out the rage in me, mainly because the people who post reviews seem like such fucking douchebags. Most of the time they bitch about the service, which drives me fucking bonkers. The waitress didn't smile at you? Oh, the horror. Don't ever go back to that restaurant again. You stupid piece of shit. These people seem to have no understanding that the world isn't their for their convenience, that it's real live humans who prepare and serve them their food, with lives and problems of their own. They bitch and complain about the fact that it's crowded and the wait was long. Is that the restaurant's fault, you fucking moron? What, they should have just plucked you out of the line like the diamond in the rough that you are so as to promptly set your meal before you? Don't get me wrong - I don't think it's inappropriate to mention long wait times in a restaurant review. But the way these pricks do it, it's like it's a personal affront to them or something. Furthermore, yelp reviewers are ready to post mean things about the people working at the restaurant, as though those people aren't human beings with feelings that will get hurt if some stupid cow says they have shitty taste in clothes.
So I despise yelp for giving these pricks the illusion that their opinion matters.
Thus, it was with a sense of glee that I read this article, which informed me that not only is yelp frequented by assholes, it's also run by them.
Nothing brightens your day quite like another reason to hate on something you already despised.
i HATE yelp.com. I do. It brings out the rage in me, mainly because the people who post reviews seem like such fucking douchebags. Most of the time they bitch about the service, which drives me fucking bonkers. The waitress didn't smile at you? Oh, the horror. Don't ever go back to that restaurant again. You stupid piece of shit. These people seem to have no understanding that the world isn't their for their convenience, that it's real live humans who prepare and serve them their food, with lives and problems of their own. They bitch and complain about the fact that it's crowded and the wait was long. Is that the restaurant's fault, you fucking moron? What, they should have just plucked you out of the line like the diamond in the rough that you are so as to promptly set your meal before you? Don't get me wrong - I don't think it's inappropriate to mention long wait times in a restaurant review. But the way these pricks do it, it's like it's a personal affront to them or something. Furthermore, yelp reviewers are ready to post mean things about the people working at the restaurant, as though those people aren't human beings with feelings that will get hurt if some stupid cow says they have shitty taste in clothes.
So I despise yelp for giving these pricks the illusion that their opinion matters.
Thus, it was with a sense of glee that I read this article, which informed me that not only is yelp frequented by assholes, it's also run by them.
Nothing brightens your day quite like another reason to hate on something you already despised.
Hello SGland! Some kind person saw fit to buy me my account for 3 months as a gift. Thanks, anonymous gift giver!
Pretty crazy to see that last journal post, talk about trip down memory lane. Well, I passed my exams. I wrote and defended a proposal, and now I'm living the good life workin' on the dissertation. Life is pretty good. I'm a mellower, happier goldfish these days, I think. But on that note, I need to get back to work. More updates later. In the meantime, HEY EVERYBODY! HOW'S IT GOING? HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?
Pretty crazy to see that last journal post, talk about trip down memory lane. Well, I passed my exams. I wrote and defended a proposal, and now I'm living the good life workin' on the dissertation. Life is pretty good. I'm a mellower, happier goldfish these days, I think. But on that note, I need to get back to work. More updates later. In the meantime, HEY EVERYBODY! HOW'S IT GOING? HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?
4 days left to my exams.
But today, I took an ego day. Woke up late, went and got some breakfast with my buddy Russ (it has been WAY too long since I got me a proper breakfast out), then we headed to the movies with our friend Lolade (every time i hang out with that girl, i remember how fucking amazing she is, and i think to myself, goddamnit i need to kick it with her more often), saw Knocked Up, then caught about 20 minutes of Pirates of the Carribbean 3, then watched Once (there oughta be a culturevulture entry on one or both of those sometime soon...). Then just strolled around downtown, walked up to Printer's Row, which was closed for the night (thank god, honestly - don't think I could afford it to be open), had a very pleasant meal at a little Trattoria, then caught a bus home, strolled through the neighborhood a bit with Russ. I really appreciate that guy. He's one of my favorite people to discuss books and movies with, because he's a fiercely intelligent dude who looks at things in a way that is totally different from me, but always well thought-out, and always fascinating. Now I've brewed me a full pot of coffee and gotten back to work. Just read some Robert Browning poems - interesting stuff. What a lovely day.
In fact, the last few days have been pretty awesome. Logged some good quality time with my favorite woman ever last night, hanging out on my roof eating lime popsicles and drinking Jameson as dusk fell. Wonderful.
I'm working hard, but I'm trying to also take time off, hang out with friends, enjoy the weather. Because I figure ima do better on this exam if I walk in with a clear, relaxed mind rather than all strung out and crazy. And it's working well, I think.
I am so madly in love with last.fm these days. I never used the radio feature before, but holy shit, it's fucking awesome.
Another thing I'm madly in love with - this tv show Wonderfalls. Netflix recommended it to me, I thought it'd make for a good study break, and goddamn, it's fucking awesome. I never watch tv, so maybe part of my enjoyment is just the pleasure of the particular narrative structure of tv shows, but still, it's pretty kickass.
A random guy came up to me at the bar last night and complimented my tattoo. Not the first time this has happened BUT it was the first time somebody recognized the source. I was way, way impressed. Unfortunately, the guy turned out to be a one-trick pony, because further conversation revealed him to be, um, not that impressive. Oh well.
Also, check it out.>
(I tried to embed the video, but I'm apparently too stupid to do that.)
That bouncing curly headed creature by the trombone player? Yeah, that's me. Mucca Pazza plays one hell of a live show. Not to be missed. Seriously. I don't care what kind of music you're into - go see them. They're fucking amazing.
Yeah, all in all, life is pretty damn good.
But today, I took an ego day. Woke up late, went and got some breakfast with my buddy Russ (it has been WAY too long since I got me a proper breakfast out), then we headed to the movies with our friend Lolade (every time i hang out with that girl, i remember how fucking amazing she is, and i think to myself, goddamnit i need to kick it with her more often), saw Knocked Up, then caught about 20 minutes of Pirates of the Carribbean 3, then watched Once (there oughta be a culturevulture entry on one or both of those sometime soon...). Then just strolled around downtown, walked up to Printer's Row, which was closed for the night (thank god, honestly - don't think I could afford it to be open), had a very pleasant meal at a little Trattoria, then caught a bus home, strolled through the neighborhood a bit with Russ. I really appreciate that guy. He's one of my favorite people to discuss books and movies with, because he's a fiercely intelligent dude who looks at things in a way that is totally different from me, but always well thought-out, and always fascinating. Now I've brewed me a full pot of coffee and gotten back to work. Just read some Robert Browning poems - interesting stuff. What a lovely day.
In fact, the last few days have been pretty awesome. Logged some good quality time with my favorite woman ever last night, hanging out on my roof eating lime popsicles and drinking Jameson as dusk fell. Wonderful.
I'm working hard, but I'm trying to also take time off, hang out with friends, enjoy the weather. Because I figure ima do better on this exam if I walk in with a clear, relaxed mind rather than all strung out and crazy. And it's working well, I think.
I am so madly in love with last.fm these days. I never used the radio feature before, but holy shit, it's fucking awesome.
Another thing I'm madly in love with - this tv show Wonderfalls. Netflix recommended it to me, I thought it'd make for a good study break, and goddamn, it's fucking awesome. I never watch tv, so maybe part of my enjoyment is just the pleasure of the particular narrative structure of tv shows, but still, it's pretty kickass.
A random guy came up to me at the bar last night and complimented my tattoo. Not the first time this has happened BUT it was the first time somebody recognized the source. I was way, way impressed. Unfortunately, the guy turned out to be a one-trick pony, because further conversation revealed him to be, um, not that impressive. Oh well.
Also, check it out.>
(I tried to embed the video, but I'm apparently too stupid to do that.)
That bouncing curly headed creature by the trombone player? Yeah, that's me. Mucca Pazza plays one hell of a live show. Not to be missed. Seriously. I don't care what kind of music you're into - go see them. They're fucking amazing.
Yeah, all in all, life is pretty damn good.
Here she checked herself in some alarm, at hearing something that
sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood
near them, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast.
"Are there any lions or tigers about here?" she asked timidly.
"It's only the Red King snoring," said Tweedledee.
"Come and look at him!" the brothers cried, and they each took one of
Alice's hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.
"Isn't he a lovely sight?" said Tweedledum.
Alice couldn't say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap
on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy
heap, and snoring loud - "fit to snore his head off!" as Tweedledum
remarked.
"I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass," said
Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.
"He's dreaming now," said Tweedledee: "and what do you think he's
dreaming about?"
Alice said "Nobody can guess that."
"Why about you!" Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands
triumphantly. "And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you
suppose you'd be?"
"Where I am now, of course," said Alice.
"Not you!" Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. "You'd be nowhere. Why,
you're only a sort of thing in his dream!"
"If that there King was to wake," added Tweedledum, "you'd go out -
bang! - just like a candle!"
"I shouldn't!" Alice exclaimed indignantly. "Besides, if I'm only a
sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?"
"Ditto," said Tweedledum.
"Ditto, ditto!" cried Tweedledee.
He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn't help saying "Hush! You'll
be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."
"Well, it's no use your talking about waking him," said Tweedledum,
"when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well
you're not real."
"I am real!" said Alice, and began to cry.
"You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying," Tweedledee
remarked: "there's nothing to cry about."
"If I wasn't real," Alice said - half-laughing through her tears, it
all seemed so ridiculous - "I shouldn't be able to cry."
"I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?" Tweedledee
interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
"I know they're talking nonsense," Alice thought to herself: "and it's
foolish to cry about it."
EDIT:
Woah. I just realized that the camera on my laptop does mirror images. Because the ink is most certainly on my LEFT shoulder. Wacky.
sounded to her like the puffing of a large steam-engine in the wood
near them, though she feared it was more likely to be a wild beast.
"Are there any lions or tigers about here?" she asked timidly.
"It's only the Red King snoring," said Tweedledee.
"Come and look at him!" the brothers cried, and they each took one of
Alice's hands, and led her up to where the King was sleeping.
"Isn't he a lovely sight?" said Tweedledum.
Alice couldn't say honestly that he was. He had a tall red night-cap
on, with a tassel, and he was lying crumpled up into a sort of untidy
heap, and snoring loud - "fit to snore his head off!" as Tweedledum
remarked.
"I'm afraid he'll catch cold with lying on the damp grass," said
Alice, who was a very thoughtful little girl.
"He's dreaming now," said Tweedledee: "and what do you think he's
dreaming about?"
Alice said "Nobody can guess that."
"Why about you!" Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands
triumphantly. "And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you
suppose you'd be?"
"Where I am now, of course," said Alice.
"Not you!" Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. "You'd be nowhere. Why,
you're only a sort of thing in his dream!"
"If that there King was to wake," added Tweedledum, "you'd go out -
bang! - just like a candle!"
"I shouldn't!" Alice exclaimed indignantly. "Besides, if I'm only a
sort of thing in his dream, what are you, I should like to know?"
"Ditto," said Tweedledum.
"Ditto, ditto!" cried Tweedledee.
He shouted this so loud that Alice couldn't help saying "Hush! You'll
be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."
"Well, it's no use your talking about waking him," said Tweedledum,
"when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well
you're not real."
"I am real!" said Alice, and began to cry.
"You won't make yourself a bit realler by crying," Tweedledee
remarked: "there's nothing to cry about."
"If I wasn't real," Alice said - half-laughing through her tears, it
all seemed so ridiculous - "I shouldn't be able to cry."
"I hope you don't suppose those are real tears?" Tweedledee
interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
"I know they're talking nonsense," Alice thought to herself: "and it's
foolish to cry about it."
EDIT:
Woah. I just realized that the camera on my laptop does mirror images. Because the ink is most certainly on my LEFT shoulder. Wacky.
