Go out and buy and listen to “When the Pawn” by Fiona Apple. It is among the best albums ever. It is perfect in every way. Except that someone spilled soda on the booklet that came with my copy. It was me.
I am the obstruction that stands between Fiona Apple and perfection.
Two Unrelated Stories
Yesterday, while I was eating lunch over at the student union, a stranger at the next table started talking to me about how empty the place was, and asked me if I was a student. I told him that I was not. I said that of course the place was empty, everyone’s gone home for the break. I asked him if he was a student. He told me that he was not. Instead, he was a campus minister. He then asked about the role of spirituality in my life. I just wanted to finish my lunch and read my magazine. Naturally, then, I talked to him for several minutes about my feelings on spirituality and religion. As he got up to leave, I was expecting him to give me a flyer or a handout or a pamphlet or some such, or at least say something about Jesus. He did not. It was a nice surprise.
Last night, I went to a bar for to partake in Karaoke night. I sang three songs. Then I left. I got to the el station and as I was putting money on my transit card, I heard the train overhead. I ran up to the platform and it was still there with the doors open. The doors closed right in front of my face. I tried to pry them open with my hands, but then the train started pulling away. I beat on the doors as I let go. I made a rude gesture towards the train as it sped off. Also, I cursed loudly.
Bush won the presidency tonight, which makes this all the more bittersweet. Pictures now.
I’m a handsome bastard.
The beard is gone. Kaput. It has been donated to the Smithsonian. Also, I cut my hippie hair. Pictures later.
It snowed so much today that I was sent home early from work. I took the train home and left my 1991 Dodge Grand Caravan in the parking structure. I left before lunch, and when I came home I ate chocolate and cruised the web and played computer solitaire for several hours. As a result, I have eaten nothing but chocolates all day, and I am so wired that I could push my hand through a brick wall with minimal effort. Or so I presume.
Tonight is the night, if all goes according to plan, that I will shave off my “beard”. It was fun while it lasted, but I am tired of picking fuzz out of it and constantly untying tiny knots. If I decide a beard is necessary in the future, I can set aside four months to grow it at that time. For now, I will be nurturing my moustache.
I suffered from several minor delusions today. Among them:
Fine then.
A few days ago I got the following message from my parents:
Hi
How’s it going? If you could, send a christmas list to us. We
ain’t doing much around here.
Bye
Love,
MOM & DAD
A list, a list, a list… what would I put on a list? CDs? DVDs? Video games? Books? Clothing? Small home appliances? Gadgets and gizmos? Wall decorations? Gift certificates? A new car? A new brain for my cat? A girlfriend? A new set of friends? Several 24-packs of Minute Maid Orange soda?
The two things in life that I currently need the most are a shave and a haircut. Two bits aside, these are things I can only acquire for myself.
I have a headache. Enough of this.
In the spirit of the upcoming Christmas holiday, I thought I’d put up a picture left over from Hallowe’en. This is me at Jeremy’s house:
Which is scarier, me or the kitten calendar?
I did not get towed the other day.
ROCK ON, WORLD!
Nancy Pender made a surprise appearance as substitute co-anchor on “Fox News in the Morning” this morning.
COULD TODAY BE ANY MORE LIKE HEAVEN?
Some nice person signed my guestbook and said I was cute.
AND SHE WAS FROM ATLANTA!
You can sign my guestbook too.
YEAH!
At this writing, my minivan is parked in a tow zone. Every legal spot in the city of Chicago is occupied. Two cars are parked behind mine, further into said tow zone. I figure that a tow truck will have to get those out of the way before they can get to mine, and that will buy me a little bit of time. I realize that by asserting this I am really, really asking to be towed. We shall see, time will tell and all that.
I’ve been scoping out the hip teenage homepages that are popular and also the rage. There are lots of gloomy kids out there. Buck up, Wendy Website – at least you’ve got a budding career in design going for you, even if you can’t resist accentuating your links .:like this:. and typing in all lowercase all the time. I understand that high school is the worst time in your life, but you must pace yourself in your misery – college will also be the worst time in your life, and most of adulthood, probably. Being in your teens is an unusual time – you are old enough to feel that your emotions are important, but not old enough to realize that there are things more important than your emotions. Or your emoticons, for that matter. My advice for dealing with high school depression is as follows: 1) Talk to a counselor. 2) See a doctor. Medicate if necessary. There is nothing wrong with medicating if you need it. 3) Mutter “fuck” under your breath several hundred times a day, even when you are alone and have absolutely no reason to mutter. 4) Make friends with a dog or cat. 5) Ten years from now, reflect on how you were so very depressed over things that mean shit to you now.
Perhaps someday I’ll compile a list of my favorite depressed-teen homepages. Or would that be exploitative?
As I was walking to my car after work today, I saw a dead squirrel on campus. After burying the creature in a shallow grave under a bush, placing a single red rose on the mound of dirt, and crying quietly for half an hour, I thought of a funny idea for a movie: “Dead Squirrel on Campus”. It’s a teenage comedy about two ne’er-do-wells who are freshmen at the local party school. Unfortunately, their outrageous “extracurricular” activities – including but not limited to binge drinking, marijuana smoking, and teenaged sex with comely coeds – land their grades in the doghouse, so to speak. Facing strong parental disapproval and possible university reprimandation, the boys hunt for a way to up their grades toot-sweet. They discover an old university urban legend: that if your roommate dies, and if said roommate is a squirrel, you receive straight A’s for the semester. Seeing their solution, they search for a new roommate, a squirrel, that is likely to die or that they can kill. Cue a hilarious montage of them courting several crazy candidates. Eventually they pick one of them, a squirrel, and it moves in. The next morning, they throw it out their ninth-story window. It dies. Their scheme works. The two get straight A’s. They spread the word. Suddenly, everyone all over campus is killing their roommates who are squirrels and getting straight A’s every semester until graduation. At the graduation ceremony, the boys feel vaguely empty about the quality of their education, but they shrug it off. Soon, they enter successful jobs and marriages and have happy, healthy children and grandchildren. They live long, fruitful lives, affecting everyone around them in a positive way. When they die, which occurs coincidentally on the same day for both, they inspire crowds of mourners to eulogize and pay respects as their coffins are lowered into the ground. Meanwhile, in Hell, they scream in torment while their flesh slowly burns and foul demons play their intestines like a harp.
I think that would be funny.
Time for a beard update.
Ha, ha, ha.
I clipped my nails today. I thought you should know.
Well, another trip to Beavercreek wasted. I could have done something interesting, but it so happens that I did nothing interesting. I imagine that when I’m back here in a few weeks I will squander the opportunity to do anything interesting at that time. But at least I spent this tedium around loved ones. Who have cable, including all the pay channels. Hel-lo, hordes of anatomically enhanced women! There is a surprising amount of compelling drama on Friday and Saturday nights, all of which revolves around either high-priced professional escorts or cheating husbands who have criminal pasts. The best movies combine all these elements.
And another one’s starting. Gotta go set the VCR!
Happy Thanksgiving, although it is now over. I thought and thought about what I could be thankful for in this cold, dead world, and here is what I came up with.
That is all.