Only One More Day...

...And thank goodness for that! I wish I was exaggerating in the following, but sadly I am not (except for the dialogue). I'd think it less crazy if I was though, y'know? Better me being crazy than my roommate actually being incredibly disgusting.

Oh yes, he is at it again.

The below picture is something to the effect of what I witnessed last night when I came home from work.
I walked in the apartment to find my roomie microwaving his dinner amidst a swarm of flies.

"Hey! Ew... there sure are a lot of flies in here."

"Yeah, I know. It's weird... Today's my birthday. I'm 25."

"Oh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I wonder where they all came from? Are you going to do anything fun to celebrate?"

"Well, I have to work, so no. Not really. Yeah, there's a lot."

"Hmm. Okay, well I should get packin'. Happy Birthday, again, and I hope it's the best."

Grunt.

And then I went in my room and sat on my bed and looked at everything that I needed to pack. Shit! I thought and flopped down on my bed. Then I rolled around and whined for a little bit, "I don't want to pack! I don't want to pack! Do I even know how to pack? I don't think I remember! Where do I even start?!" Then I flung myself up and walked circles around my room.

Oh! I'm feeling anxious just typing about it!

Then I called a friend who is in town for a job assignment to make plans to meet for lunch. Then I sent a text message to my friend who just moved out to Virginia with her boyfriend. Then I called my mom (who has strep throat!! oh no! who gets strep throat in summertime?! apparently all of NW Missouri b/c the doctor's office was out of the tests, but the doctor looked at my mom and said, "Hmm. Yes, it sure looks like strep in there, and you do look like crap." That's what she told me!), about half-way through I started packing - momma's always got the motivation! Oh, and I told her about the George Clinton show, and she said, "Who's George Clinton?" or "What's that?" And I said, "He's the king of funk, Mom!" and I sang a little bit of "Atomic Dog" to her because that's a really well know one and a little bit of the "Funkenstein" one, and she said that was nice but she'd never heard of him before. And then I said, "You're such a square, Mom." And she laughed and said, "I know." (She should know who he is because she's 57, but she does forget things a lot... like picking me up from soccer practice when I was a kid). Then I hung up with her and talked to my friend who's moving - yeah, actually in the process of driving state through state, so it was fun to do a quick catch-up and she promised to call once she got settled - HOW EXCITING! So many things happening in everyone's lives!

**Side note. This friend who's moving, KR, has an inside joke with me about talking to people on the phone when you're in the car with someone else. It's just rude most of the time. Y'know to have an actual conversation - unless the passenger is asleep - rather than just getting quick directions or something (and also, it's just not safe to talk and drive, y'know!). Once we were going to the grocery store and she was talking to her mom on the phone and I was playing with the radio and looking out the window, bored, needing entertainment. She said, "Hey Mom, can I call you back? I'm in the car with my friend right now." And we decided that this could be used as an excuse any time someone calls and you don't want to talk to them anymore. "Hey Stan. Can I call you back? I'm in the car with a friend right now. Yeah, I'm being rude and neglectful to them. I have to let you go."/"Oh, but I thought you just said you were walking to the mailbox."/"Oh no, no. You must've heard me wrong. I'm driving." And any other situations as well, use your imagination like Gladys Knight and her Pips.**

Alright, so I'm packing and watching Shark Week and I run out of boxes from work so I have to go to the grocery store to see if I can get more. I can, but I have to come back in 40 minutes. So I go home and make dinner, eat dinner and then when I am walking past the extra bedroom I remember how roomie said something about how his brother wasn't staying with us anymore. Hmm. That's weird. I wonder why the door was closed last night then, and right now... oh wait! Roomie moved his bed out on Sunday, so where's he sleeping? Timidly I open the door to find lights and TV on, and my sheets covered in filth - does he roll around in dirt before he gets into bed?! Oh! And there was a box of pizza on the floor with crusts left over from the night before, and a half-eaten half-gallon of ice cream melting with a spoon sunk in, AND an uncapped carton of mile... HMMMM? I wonder why there are flies. Yeah, roomie. I wonder!!!, I could've screamed. Instead I just wanted to cry and I wondered what kind of home life he had as a child. Were there maids so that he never learned to clean? Would his mother take care of everything and tell him not to worry? Probably because he's 25 and still receiving rent checks from home. Sheesh. Okay, I'll stop judging... out loud. So I begrudgingly cleaned up and went back to watching swimming sharks with tears in my eyes. Then I went back to the store, schlepped my boxes home, and commenced playing my guitar.

When I was playing my guitar I noticed that the flies migrated into my room and are a-swarming and zooming around. One fly I can handle, 5-6 I cannot. It's just disgusting. They're looking at you with all their bazillions of eyes, pooping or throwing up or doing whatever they do all over every surface they land on. I spy one sitting on the shoulder of a shirt in my closet. He's just sitting there. I lose it when I see a friend join him. I grab my flip-flop and start swinging. When I'm swinging I stir up a storm and there are anywhere from 4-78 swooping through the air. I freak out and swing more furiously. I'm surprised I didn't break a light bulb. This swinging insanity doesn't seem to do anything but cause them to fly faster and kamikaze towards my face. After a few minutes of shrieks and continuous cursing I open the door to my back deck, frantically fanning it in hopes that they will return out to the urban wilderness. NOPE! They stay in my room and the hallway.

Alright, fuckers. I gave you one last chance and now I'm going to kill you all. I close the door, calmly and go into the cabinet under my sink. I reached for the bleach, but I figured this would be a bad idea to spray all over my room, so I got the "Clean Shower" instead. It didn't seem to work as they kept flying into it, probably saying, "Yes! She's giving us a shower! How nice! I feel like we're at the Ritz Carlton!" So I grabbed a bottle of that fabric freshener Renuzit instead. Yes! They do not like this, and it's good for the fabrics!! I'm spraying and spraying, laughing maniacally as they fly slower and slower becoming more and more discombobulated (I think this is my favorite word - ever) and eventually land on the closest wall/surface to gasp for breath. This is where I get them with a shoe, rolled up magazine, tissue, whatever - yeah, gross, but once with my palm (I cringed and scrubbed my hand in scalding water immediately after, something like an OCD person might do). I felt a huge sense of accomplishment when my room was silent and I've counted 5 killed in my quarters and one in the kitchen. I do the "I wash my hands of this" motion and smile thinking about how much I've always hated flies.**When I was a kid, my brother and I would spend summers in New Jersey with our dad. For the majority of the summer we went to day camp, when the anywhere from 4-8 week camping session was over my dad would take 1-2 weeks for vacation and we would rent a beach house at the Jersey Shore on LBI (oh! it was the best!) and turn into beach bums. It was the best! The houses were straight from the 70s and usually (I don't want to say infested) crawling with ants (they love picnics and the beach weather!), but right on the beach, so you can't beat that! In the mornings, after breakfast, my brother and I would race down to the beach, our step mother screaming behind us not to get in the water. So we'd play in the sand - where the horseflies were. After taking their crap for 5 minutes we started fighting back. When they landed on us we wouldn't shoo them away or smash them but rather catch them, not to be set free, mind you. Once either of us had a squirming fly in our cupped hands the other would dig a hole and maybe fill it with water. Then the kid holding the fly would, almost like a surgeon, remove the wings with a delicate precision and place the limbless body in the hole. We'd rest on our elbows and watch it struggle for a little while and then get bored, filling it with sand and moving on with our castle making business until we were bothered again. As the day wore on the flies became fewer in numbers. Maybe this was because we were killing them all, or maybe this was because the flies knew what was happening and knew to stay away from the crazy kids in the neon swimsuits.**

The flies were gone. My packing quota met for the night. I felt a wave of satisfaction roll over me as I slipped into my bed and listened to the rolling thunderstorm outside lull me to sleep. Tomorrow (today) I will worry about sheets to clean, roomies to punch, dishes to wash and pack, and other things. In time all things will be resolved. Sleep, sleep, sleep little baby.

FUNDAY SUNDAY!!!

Yesterday was such a good day - a great day!! Beautiful weather, lovely times!!

I woke up, yawned and stretched. Glorious. Mmm! The birds chirping on my deck, sun shining - couldn't ask for a better Sunday, I tell you!

I got dressed and hopped on the bus headed east. Laughing to my autographed David Sedaris book along the way. Met up with my friend, Lauren, and we walked to Ann Sather's on Southport because the past 2 times weren't the best for her at the Belmont location. I was slightly disappointed with this one, as I wanted a V-4 omelet but they didn't have it. So this omelet wrap with egg, cheese, tomato, onion, and avocado sounded pretty delicious - but it wasn't. It was egg, cheese and guacamole. They should've listed it like that, but they made it sound like there was a little avocado in it... whatever, the cinnamon roll made up for everything. Then we walked back to the lake, talking and laughing along the way, stopping to see what apartments we could afford on a fancy residential street - not many. At the lake we stopped by a playground at Belmont Harbor. It was really fun (I'll post pictures later), there were boats on a rolling recycled tire floor that was made to look like water, and swings. We were laughing and pretending we were drowning and some little girl came over and started taking pictures like us - copycat! Then we moved on down the shore, it was fun to watch all the people running, bladin' and biking. And LOTS of beautiful sweaty men that I pretended to chase.

Man! I wish I would've brought my swimsuit! The beach was packed and the cool water felt so good. Then we walked over to the zoo so L could get something icy cold to drink and I looked at the camels. I don't think I like zoos anymore, they make me depressed. Poor little animals. Zoos and winters are two of the things I used to love as a child and as the years wear on I find myself growing more towards hating them.

I love walking around the LP Botanical Gardens, my favorite part outside of the fern/orchid room is the Sensitive Fern to the right. Mmm! I love it! It's so sensitive. You touch it and it shrinks away. I think it would be excellent to be a tracker in a Sensitive Fern Forest because you would know exactly where to go by the shrunk plant. How great!

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After that we took self-timed pictures and did cartwheels in the tropical plants next to the fountain on the Great Lawn. Then we walked up Clark, window shopping and stopping in stupidly overpriced Urban Outfitters before we went to Sports Authority where I picked up some performance gels for my 16 mile run today (GAAAH! I have to do that after work... I'm doing 2 and 1/2 hours for sure... maybe 2:40 depending on how I feel about my pace which I'm assuming is going to be sluggish because it's a Monday and I worked hard all day - obvi, right since I'm bloggin'?) and some new sweat wristbands and chafe guard - woot! Runner's fun!

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Then I helped Lauren with her laundry, we laughed some more and ate fajitas down the street for dinner.

OOOH! I almost forgot the highlight of the day! So, I didn't really want to take a cab home because I took 2 on Saturday... the Halstead bus came relatively quick, but of course, the Chicago bus was nowhere in sight for 10+ minutes and I was sleepy. I hailed a cab as it was stopped at the red light across the street. I thought it saw me, but it proceeded past, so I hailed the one behind it and immediately the first cab came to a halt - disrupting traffic, causing horns to blow - and veered to the sidewalk to pick me up - pissing off more drivers. Yikes! Do I really want to get in this cab. Sure! Let's take a chance, live a little. The driver was an old man, let's call him Fred Jones, and right away he got into the crazy motorists of Chicago. Sure buddy, it's everyone else's fault that you're a crazy erratic driver! He said the worst intersection in Chicago is Canal and Wells, and the other one... I forget (sometimes I need to write things down right away). Then he talked about the terrible motorists for a few more blocks before he got into good movies that I could go to sleep to. Alfred Hitchcock movies. First he started talking about Rebecca, and he was so into it that he stopped for a while at a sign - I tried to say something but he kept talking, and I really hoped another car would come up so he would realize his mistake. Eventually he moved on, and I guess it didn't really matter because the light up ahead was red anyway... well, now it was. He told me the whole story, ending and all. Thanks a lot, mister. I guess I don't need to rent it anymore. Then he said another really good one is The Paradine Case, but I read that it was one of Hitchcock's worst - Fred said it was great, again telling the plot from beginning to end. He mentioned one more before we pulled up to my block... another Hitchcock and something to do with swift wind, or something (again, I should really write things down). I couldn't help but tip him well, I always hate when my cabbies talk to me because I feel like they're going above and beyond their job description, even if I don't want them to. Even though I'm convinced he was drunk and stole the cab from the driver who was most likely in the trunk, he was one of the better ones from this weekend.

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Alright, okay. Let's see if I have anymore work in the good ole queue. I love that word, queue. Way better than "standing in line" I was "standing in the queue chatting on my cellular" is that what they call phones over there? Those crazy Brits. Mmm! They're my favs!

Dr. Funkenstein, King of the Funk, yeah!

We love to funk you, Funkenstein. Your funk is the best!

YEEEEEEAAAAAAHH!!! I got to see George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelic (for FREE!!!) Saturday night with my buddy Ty! YAY! Oh my gosh, it was incredible! Let me tell you a little bit about the amount of funk that went down. Oh yeah! And it went down, down, down. Mmmm! It was great!

So, Saturday was a pretty great day in general. Woke up, 8 miles, Cheerios, reading, guitar, nap, wine, Wicker Park Fest, vodka-filled Slurpees with Mariko and gang, then line to George Clinton. Oh boy! So, the doors were supposed to open at 9, they opened at 10. Then the show was supposed to start at 10, but it started at 11:15, and no real complaints here except that my buzz had worn off by the show's start and my feet were a tad tired. I was still ready to get down and funk-funk-funky!!

The crowd was outrageous!! There are some dedicated funksters out there! And I loved it! Everyone was funked out and geared up to dance the night away (and that we did as the show didn't end until 2:30ish - whoa!). My two favorite people was this gay pirate couple. They weren't really pirates, but they totally could've been! Two graying men with bald-ish heads. One was wearing some black Funkadelic shirt, had some scruff to his face, and wore circular wire-rimmed glasses. The other was a Mr. Clean-type with a graying goatee, and he wore a loose-fitting striped collared button-down shirt. Pirate #1, the scruffy one, chatted with me and Ty and inquired as to if we'd ever been to a GC and P-Funk show before, we both hadn't and he said we were in for a good time. He told us that we wouldn't be able to help but dance. We told him we planned on getting really funky, and he said good. Within 5 minutes of the show starting, the black shirt was off and the buttons were undone and the funkin' commenced. It was pretty great, especially since Pirate 1 kept dancing by with a huge smile on his face to make sure we were still dancing and having fun. It didn't so much matter that he was the sweatiest person there and he kept slickin' up against us; he had such a great personality! Around 1:45 when he spun around again his shirt was tied around his head like a turban. I wanted to take him home and make him my best friend!

Then there was this drunk lady that kept trying to dance with Ty, but he really didn't want to dance with her. So while I was laughing at him and her failed attempts, he kept smacking her away, but she would keep stumbling back. Eventually she moved through the crowd and found herself a couple boyfriends for the night. It was ridiculous, and slightly disgusting!


At any given time there were 7-15 people on this small stage, all funkin'. It was great. Grooving and jamming on their instruments. George Clinton looked like a teddy bear grandpa, conducting his legion of funky-wunky groovers with a li'l more here, a li'l softer there motions. Then Sir Nose came out, and things got real crazy. His pants were down reeeeeeeeeeal low, it was exciting but also a little worrisome that he might expose himself, and I just didn't know what was going to happen next for a lot of the show. But this! Sir Nose brought some ladies up on stage and grinded them into the ground. Whoa. It was - yeah, whoa a little too much on that for me because you couldn't help but watch even though you didn't want to. It's like when your friends have you over for Thanksgiving dinner at the neighbor's house and you're all in the basement drinking wine and putting sweaters on the dogs and then you stumble up the stairs to leave and people are in the living room watching some German porn with naked people sitting in sugar, drinking tea with mice running around. Yeah.... so, the concert. The costumes the lights. The music - well, duh! The music! It was sooooooo funky!!! Truly a phenomenal show and I'm really glad that I was able to experience it. I've always wanted to see George and his Allstars since the movie PCU came out. Outrageous, incredible and super funkadelic. I can see why they have such a strong following. And! The fact that this man is well into his 60s and still funkin' night after night. I was very impressed. I don't have any of their albums but I do enjoy everything I've heard as I'm a fan of the funk, and the shout outs to the king of funk, Mr. James Brown happened through the night; it was good, real good.

It was hard to keep the dancing steady into the 2nd hour. I wanted to stop. I wanted to leave because I was so tired, but at the same time I didn't want to miss a thing. Like that Aerosmith song. So I stayed. And I flailed my tired bones this way and that. And it was excellent!!

I said, shit! Goddamn! Get off your ass and jam!

Shit! Goddamn! Get off your ass and jam!

-

HOW FUN! HOW FUN!! What a great Saturday!! Funkin', jammin', rockin', jazzin', groovin', movin'. POWERFUL STUFF!!! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!!

Apocalypse Now

In recent hours, days, months, I've been having the most horrific and detailed end-of-the-world dreams. I don't like this very much at all, yet it continues night after night. How do I stop this? I try to think of sugar plums (which sound disgusting, though they look pretty delicious in this here picture to the right - and by delicious I mean if you're a carnivore and love eating raw meat - YUM!) and fairies, but it doesn't really work. And I no longer take the Advil PM, so I think the stomach bleeding has subsided, for now.

Anyway, I was thinking about these dreams last night... before I went to bed (I know, I know! But I didn't have one last night), and how I could translate them into my writing. My last undergraduate full-length was this semi-abstract post-apocalyptic allegory on US foreign policies and global climate control, called "The Sandstorm" ooooooooh!

Most of these dreams give me time to know that I am going to die. It's not quick. There's warning. There's panic followed by a strange calmness, an acceptance of one's fate. It's something everyone, all over, is doing together. There's no escaping. What a way to show humanity we're all in this together. In the dreams the TV reporters stop reporting with 5-12 hours left, to be with their loved ones, and for those lonely people out there, if they choose to stay indoors rather than watch the spectacular sun approaching, there is a looping tape playing on all channels of loved ones greeting each other at the airport (like in "Love Actually").

I was thinking about that above scene last night, and how I could work it into its own piece, but then I remembered that I've already seen it. There was this 10 minute play, "The Kiss", I saw last summer at a Chicago Dramatists play festival. The sun was engulfing the earth, I think, but I remember everything was growing really dark... so maybe it was the moon colliding. Anyway, there is the guy and a girl (who didn't know each other before this moment) who both escaped the craziness of the city to watch from atop a car in this junkyard on the edge of society. They discuss the lives they've lead and how it might feel to die this way, and (here comes the title) the guy says he imagines it will be like a kiss, perhaps a goodnight one.

So I'd have to do it differently than that.

Also, I love the "Twilight Zone" and there's this really crazy episode where this same thing happens... kind of. There's this woman living in an apartment in NYC and the heat keeps going up, up, up as the sun gets closer, closer, closer. People are fainting and dying, and it's bad news bears. Then, the thermometer breaks and you think it's all over for everyone. No. They do those dream waves and you see that this woman is lying in bed, dressed for a fever, which just broke (explaining the thermometer). She comes to and tells her dream to her caretaker. Oh yes, how scary, indeed. Then the caretaker tells her to sleep, sleep and she does. The caretaker walks over to someone else in the room and mentions something about how the poor, stupid girl doesn't even know, but the exact opposite is true. The sun is moving away, away, away and it's getting cold, cold, cold. Like the end of the Dinosaurs, the show, not the real things. They're still around. Duh! Jurassic Park!
I found the above when searching for the "Twilight Zone" - very bizarre. I think the latter part of #1 can be explained when you mention the housewife was on acid and a combination of other drugs she acquired from Amy Winehouse. The same can be said for #2, or Iran's missile testing. #3, a LION! How about a Cougar?! That happened here! Let's say people in Leicester like to watch a lot of movies... maybe Arachnophobia and Lake Placid - yeah. CRABS falling from the sky? That sounds like a mean prank Richard Branson would play... and also a bunch of hooey! I should look and see if this came from the National Enquirer. Just thought I would share the head-scratching goodness with you.

Adieu.

Ahh! Rushin' Sleep Lines!

Last night I had a really good day planned out for myself today, as I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep I thought about all the wonderful things I would do, in an ample amount of time.

Here's my dream day:

Who can it be knocking at my door?
Go 'way, don't come 'round here no more.
Can't you see that it's late at night?
I'm very tired, and I'm not feeling right.
All I wish is to be alone;
Stay away, don't you invade my home.
Best off if you hang outside,
Don't come in - I'll only run and hide.

Who can it b- SMACK! Awake.
5AM. I sit up in bed, throw my legs over the side, stretch and go for a run. Mmm! That crisp, city morning air feels good in my lungs. Home, shower, get ready for work, make a delicious sandwich, leave for work, ride the bus and laugh at David Sedaris, get to work, distribute the coffee, eat a free breakfast, work, work, work with all the wonderful profiles in my queue.

5PM. Stroll over to the Art Institute and look really intelligent surveying the pieces and jotting (with a pencil!) in my notebook.... spend an hour or two, go home, play guitar with a glass of wine, find boxes (maybe do that first), pack, pack, pack until I don't want to pack no'mo'.

In reality... it did not happen like this (this being my dream vision).

5AM. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! -SMACK. Morning run, yeah, right. Reset the alarm for 6.

6AM. Something happens - I'm still sleeping... the clock rolls on.

6:57AM. "Oh no! Oh no! Oh no." That's all I could say as I wished I could turn time back at least to 6:30. I had to leave my house for the bus at 7:15... thank goodness I didn't run last night otherwise I would be pret-ty, pret-ty, pretty ripe at the office as there was no time for a shower. I stumbled around my apartment in attempt to assemble myself for the day ahead, still sleepy and seriously discombobulated. I hope this matches that! French shower - spray, spray, spray. And I rushed out the door, sleep lines still on face and arm. Bus-to-bus and in the office, on-time!

I didn't have any coffee duties, as I had to leave work early yesterday to put down a deposit on the scary side-entrance apartment (YAY!!), the lady in charge gave coffee responsibility to my friend instead. Shucks! Oh yeah, and no time for lunch-making in the morning, so I'm going to have to buy that - $7, damn! I did impress myself with my superior speedy gettin' ready skillz though. So, that's fun. I may look like a bus hit me on the way to work, but I made it! I'm here, and on-time!

After work we'll have, AI, home, run, boxes, guitar, pack... and throw a shower somewhere in there, too. I think that should be good. Yes? Yes! And we're back on track!

DELA-WHAT!?

How did that camp song go?

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Push your teacher overboard
And listen to 'er scream.
Five days later,
Floatin' down the Delaware,
Chewing on 'er underware,
Wished she'd brought another pair.
10 days later,
Eatin' by a polar bear
And that's how teacher died.
Ba dum!
Yeah. I was walking back from lunch today, looking at all the flags surrounding my building, and I saw this one. December 7, 1787. What happened, I wondered. And so I just googled it. Here is what I found for those of you who remember nothing from seventh grade social studies, like me:

Adopted on July 24, 1913, the Delaware state flag has a background of colonial blue surrounding a diamond of buff color in which the coat of arms of the state is placed. Below the diamond are the words "December 7, 1787," indicating the day on which Delaware was the first state to ratify the United States constitution. Because of this action, Delaware became the first state in the Union, and is, therefore, accorded the first position in such national events as presidential inaugurations. According to members of the original commission established to design the flag, the shades of buff and colonial blue represent those of the uniform of General George Washington. Inside the diamond, the flag recognizes the importance of commerce {the ship} and agriculture {wheat, corn, the ox and the farmer} to the state. Tribute is also paid to the revolutionary war soldiers. The words in the ribbon banner read Liberty and Independence.

So, how about that? I think it's pretty dumb, not the state flag, but the fact that it's hanging around my building in Illinois. Now I'm going to have to check and see if there is a flag for every other state. I'm pretty sure there aren't 50... hmm. New thing to do!

There really is nothing to do at work right now. This is why I'm researching flags history. Yawn, yawn, yawn.

It's all Relative

Kurt Vonnegut makes me happy. Here is an excerpt from "A Man Without a Country", 2005. On extended families, and hope.
"Okay, now let's have some fun. Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about women. Freud said he didn't know what women wanted. I know what women want: a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.

What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn't get so mad at them.

Why are so many people getting divorced today? It's because most of us don't have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.

A few Americans, but very few, still have extended families. The Navahos. The Kennedys.

But most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it's a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it's a man.

When a couple has an argument nowadays, they may think it's about money or power or sex or how to raise kids or whatever. What they're really saying to each other, though without realizing it, is this: "You are not enough people!"

A husband, a wife and some kids is not a family. It's a terribly vulnerable survival unit.

I met a man in Nigeria one time, an Ibo who had six hundred relatives he knew quite well. His wife had just had a baby, the best possible news in any extended family.

They were going to take it to meet all its relatives, Ibos of all ages and sizes and shapes. It would even meet other babies, cousins not much older than it was. Everybody who was big enough and steady enough was going to get to hold it, cuddle it, gurgle to it, and say how pretty or how handsome it was.

Wouldn't you have loved to be that baby?

I sure wish I could wave a wand, and give every one of you an extended family, make you an Ibo or a Navaho - or a Kennedy.

Now, you take George and Laura Bush, who imagine themselves as a brave, clean-cut little couple. They are surrounded by an enormous extended family, what we should all have - I mean judges, senators, newspaper editors, lawyers, bankers. They are not alone. That they are members of an extended family is one reason they are so comfortable. And I would really, over the long run, hope America would find some way to provide all of our citizens with extended families - a large group of people they could call on for help."

Hindsight is 20/20 and my Eyesight is Not...

I feel like this song captures the moment of my life right now, the clouds keep rollin' on in.It's always so much easier to look back on something and shake your head saying, "I was so foolish to have done it that way. Everything would've been so much easier had I taken a different course of action." Ah. Such is life. You live and you learn. Lately I feel like this has happened to me a lot. The majority of my days are filled with good decisions, or at least easily fixable bad ones... not so much the case right now.

I feel like the big city is eating me alive. Everyday it takes something from me. Money, CTA cards, my iPod, my bike, my sanity. I wonder if I can hack it, or if I'm fooling myself into waiting for the inevitable failure.

Yeah, my bike. My bike that my mother and step father gave to me as a college graduation present. My bike that was really nice and had a smooth ride and a comfy seat - I need to stop or I might cry. My Schwinn that I would say like "SCHWING!" I'm actually still reeling from the situation/realization that the world could be so cold and cruel as to take this thing from me. That's what I'm trying to remind myself, it's just a thing. Even if it was a really, really nice, expensive thing, that was a gift, that is something I won't be able to afford for months, and by then I won't be able to ride it because it'll be -20 degrees outside. It's just a thing. They didn't steal me, so that's good. This is why I can't have nice things. I don't take care of them. My mother frequently reminds me of this.

Here's what happened. Friday I rode my bike to work because it was supposed to be a beautiful day. The morning time was great, but the clouds rolled in by the time I was leaving the office, and as it's already terrifying to ride bikes downtown - what with the crazy motorists/peds, lack of bike lanes - I opted to take the train to Pitchfork instead of ridin' my bike. I planned to run downtown and pick it up Saturday morning, but it was still raining... also, with the rain and biking, I'd be afraid to fall. I saw someone fall while riding in the rain and they skidded about 15 feet - in the road, in traffic! It was frightening. I didn't want that to be me, so I said I'd do it Sunday. There was no time on Sunday - or was there? It'll be there Monday, I said. No worries. Monday, Monday, Monday. I walk to work, I see a bike chained up, I assume it's mine. No worries. Why didn't I ride it home Monday? Was it raining? No. Tuesday seems as good a day as any. I decided to work from home so I could do some serious apartment hunting (that's another thing that I'll get to in just a moment). I woke up without an alarm clock and it was glorious, geared up and went out for a run downtown to get my bike. It was only supposed to be a 4 mile run (to the office is actually 3.5, but I was going to ride my bike so it'd be gravy), but when I got to the bike rack I didn't see my bike.

Are you fucking kidding me?! Harry Potter, please stop having sex with my bike (super silly side-note; I feel bad for the guy because it was behind closed doors... a little awkward, yes, and seemingly impossible, but people have strange fetishes, I hope this isn't what happened to mine - it was very good-looking) and take off your invisibility cloak!!


I wanted to sit down and cry like a baby. I wanted someone to tell me that everything was going to be alright. I wanted to scream, FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! I wanted to shank a biker. I wanted to steal someone else's sweet ride.

Running home I felt like all the bikers were mocking me. Oooh! Look what I have. Oooh! I'm going so much faster than you. Oooh! Look at me fly by on my wheels, and look at your stupid feet. 7-8 miles, a good training day, but I really wanted to ride my bike.

I was hoping I was wrong. I hoped that I would come to work today and I would see it. I didn't. My friend told me that abandoned bikes get picked up by the city and I should call them... I don't have the serial number that I know of, but I figured that I could describe it to them and if they have it, I could search the mess of my room for something with something claiming my ownership on it. Sheesh!

I can't tell my mother either. I wanted to when I talked to her yesterday, but I couldn't bring myself to it. One, because she would say, "What were you thinking?" and I would say, "I wasn't" and she would say, "That's right." And she would use my full name when talking to me, and I would know that meant she was disappointed with me, and she would say, "You've been doing this [not thinking] since you were a little girl. Remember when..." And I would sigh, say "I know, I know!" and get sad and eventually angry, but mostly sad because I feel like life keeps punching me in the stomach.

One good thing happens and then, like, 12 bad things follow. Not really, but it feels that way.

For instance, my friend was talking about her child-self thinking that becoming an "adult" was some sort of destination where there'd be a party saying, "YAY! You made it!" And I said, I'm still waiting for that surprise party. I think it'll happen with my next promotion. Everyone on the street will know and they'll jump up and down and dance as confetti rains from the sky. And there will be people walking around on stilts, handing out balloons and caramel apples. And everyone will rush up to me with flowers and gold and they'll say, "You made it! We're so glad you're here! Look at all these wonderful things you've done, just think about what's to come!" And they'll hoist me up on their shoulders and sing, Hip hip, hoorah!! Until the sun goes down, and then the crowd will disperse and we'll wave into the distance until we are all but mere specks on the horizon.
That hasn't happened yet, and all the time I feel like this is in front of me, but they're running away - because I'm not at that place in my life yet, I'm still struggling everyday - turning the corner right before I turn the one before. I see a flash of confetti here, a disappearing stilt there, but it's nothing big, and then I get the wind knocked out of me because I get blind sighted by the glitz and glimmer of the present moment, thinking about one thing too much then everything else builds up to bad and tsunamis me.

I did find an apartment that I really like, though. It was good, a 2-bedroom (1100) so I would need to find a roomie (550 + utilities would make 650-ish each - ah-nice!). The only problems, and these are slightly big... the entrance is in on the side, in between 2 buildings - kind of creepy, I would need to invest in some mace and have super fast unlocking skillz. Also, when the landlord was walking me out I noticed there was a note on the door from a tenant that reminded the other tenants to lock the door because a "trespasser" was found in the basement the other week. Well, well, well. That's just wonderful. So, I'll have a nice house but there's potential for me to be murdered while I sleep... maybe they were peaceful, just looking for a dry place to sleep, or nunchucks.
Also, the laundry machines were $2 a pop - OUTRAGEOUS!, but there is a laundromat right on the next block... I think I'm going to take it. I'm getting desperate, and hey! Maybe it won't be that bad. I think I'm going to take it.

Smooth Sending

It surely is a shame that crazy people rob the world of such beauty and talent.

Sam Cooke has the voice of a springtime meadowlark, with the heart of a jungle tiger.

I like that hat.

Hey, Sam!

Where'd ya get that hat?

A man of style.

I like that.

ROCKTOBER!!

That's right! October 2008 is going to ROCK, musically!!!

Starting off with MGMT and Beck, October 3rd at the Aragon Ballroom - you can buy your tickets starting tomorrow, here.

AND, Of Montreal! October 27th at the Riveria - tickets on sale now, here. Bogus, that's a Monday. Merh, I guess it just means FUNDAY MONDAY!!

Here's a great interview with Kevin Barnes. It has some MP3s in it, but they're blocked at work so I can't get to them. I'm very excited for the new album, Skeletal Lamping, which is due out in October this year, and they've apparently re-added a horn section (the guys from Dark Meat - sound pretty awesome) and a piano to the OM mix! YAYAH!!!

You make me feel like sayin' "FOXY!"

I wanna take you home!
I won't do you no harm, no!
You've got to be all mine, all mine.
Foxy men.
Here I come.
I'm comin' to get ya!

Fleet Foxes, you amaze me! I've only known your music for a few short weeks, but I'm pretty confident that I can say I love you. Yes, I do. You're lyrical, melodic, beautiful, and most importantly, not hippies, just so you know. (I do love me some old school hippies though, and hippie wanna-bes are pretty great, too. We've all been there, done that.)

.

I saw them perform (listen to them on NPR, and read more) last night with some friends at the free Pitchfork Preview at Grant Park's Pritzker Pavilion - which was awesome in all aspects! Oh, and I also shook hands with the lead singer, Robin Pecknold, congratulated him on all his success, and thanked him for his beautiful music. I'm not trying to brag at all. I'm a big dork about shaking hands/thanking musicians (or any other artist, person of great interest to me, for that matter) for doing what they do, if I'm presented with the opportunity (it's nice to let people know that you think highly of them and their skills). Funny thing is, we saw a few of them walking around before they performed, and I said to my friends, "I bet those guys are in a band." After all, one of the dudes moseying through the lawn was a walking ad for American Apparel (I'm not a fan of the store myself, but he looked good in it) wearing Jesus hair. And Pecknold was standing off to the side of the lawn, smoking a cig, in plaid regalia. Very approachable, appreciative... it took a lot of restraint not to chloroform them and duct-tape them to their instruments in my basement. Ha, ha. I joke! I joke! But seriously, if I could make Fleet Foxes my personal band, I would. Have them play me White Winter Hymnal (I saw the three in the middle of this NPR pic, off stage; the dude with the glasses in these two pictures had to leave the band, momentarily, for health issues. Godspeed, rocker. Godspeed.) every night before bed. Ah! That would be wondrous.

I do hope that I see this one on the far right in person. I will surely chloroform him after shaking hands. Ooh! What a beautiful man. Yum, my heart sings.

One thing that I do not like about Fleet Foxes is their age. They are young. I think Pecknold is even 21, no way! Yes way. Hot dog! How'bout that? Makes me feel unaccomplished at 23. Pecknold and Simon Rich, talented men I love to hate to love.

Girlicious?! C'mon!

Alright, BlaYne. Really? Really with the "y" instead of the "i" approach? Alright. Whatever. But, really, on the whole "girlicious" thing? You're not Christian. "Girlicious" is not "Fierce", and it ain't gonna stick. Though it's so obnoxious that I can't get it out of my head... so, there is a possibility you've started something here, although I can't really say it's good. I might even go out on a limb and say it's STUPID. So stupid! Blayne. You're better than this. Maybe. Maybe you're not... I mean it's silly, it was a good (eh?) introduction for yourself onto the show, but you can stop now. Let's not take this into episode 2, thanks.

Tablecloths, garbage bags, and slasher suits.

*** SPOILER ALERT! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A PROJECT RUNWAY FAN AND HAVE YET TO VIEW THE FIRST EPISODE OF SEASON 5!! ***

YAY!! So, yes! Project Runway is back! HOORAY! Hoorah! I love it! Check out the designers, here. The first challenge was to create a unique look using grocery products from this Gristede's supermarket where the very, very first show took place. Truly starting at the beginning, as the episode's title indicated. Austin Scarlett was there to give advice because he won with his awesome corn dress in the first season.I was a little disappointed with the lack of innovative design and use of exciting/funky materials, as a lot of the designers stayed away from the challenge and opted to be lameos.

So far I think I'm going to like the stylish designs of: Kelli (clever, crafty girl), Kenley (I loved the colors, and the lines of the skirt), Terri (Chicago representin'!), maybe Leanne (way to make the blah work by adding some fun frill, and I like the dress structure), definitely Jerell (fun costume, good presentation, and he's got some sass to him), Wesley (and he reminds me of Christian from "Clueless"), Korto has potential, Daniel - definitely, yes (cups, brilliant!), and maybe Blayne (bad choice on the diaper; don't let it happen again) just to see what crazy stuff he comes up with...

I wasn't that impressed with Jennifer, who claimed that she has a "Holly Golightly visits a Salvador Dali exhibit" style... um... well, that little white dress was a yawn, and I'm fairly certain the eccentric Dali (and his rooster, too) would not approve. Suede; who are you foolin'? Your dress looked cheap, a dollar store purchase.

I shake my finger at all those who took the easy, uncreative route of choosing the tablecloth.

Um, Emily... um, well. Interesting... yet predominantly vanilla. Joe! I like the pasta skirt, but the oven mit top - really? That was hideous. Bad call. Make up for your mistake next week, Mr. Italy. STELLA! Girl! Number one, stupid choice with the garbage bags... maybe you should've invested in some Hefty products, or those Flexforce ones to give some detailing. That dress was UGGGGLY, cheap looking, and didn't seem complicated/challenging at all. And Jeremy(!), just what exactly were you thinking? The outfit was ugly, maybe well-made, but ugly nonetheless, and scary!! Yes, I completely agree with the "American Psycho" comments. You could've at least done something fun in the presentation! Big, flirty hair, or wild make-up... no gloves - yikes. If it had been a Halloween competition, perhaps, yes you would've won... but, no, it was not, and now you're done. I liked his exiting remarks about how he knows he's a great designer and he's going to show the world, yada yada yada, blah blah blah... it was very Stuart Smalley of him.

Tim Gunn, it's so good to see you again! Make it work, make it work! And calling everybody, "sweetheart." He's a sweetheart!

Alright. I love the judges! It was fun to see the season one winner, Austin Scarlett on (though I didn't start watching until season three) acting as a mentor of sorts. He was very alert! Reminds me of Andy Warhol, but classier and most likely less crazy. He was really kind and helpful in all of his comments, and I thought that was really nice. MICHAEL and NINA! You guys kill me!! So silly with your facial expressions and comments! Michael is totally my favorite. And, Heidi. Lady is always so well-dressed (as she should be)! Now that's a woman with stems! If I had legs like that I, too, would be walking around in short things and tall shoes.

I look forward to what the rest of the season has to offer. I think there's a pretty good amount of talent and drama in store for future episodes. Let's see...

My Job is BOOOOORING and so are You!

So much so that I'm sssssssssssssssnooooooooooooooooring!

(About the 'you' being boring part, it might not be true, or maybe it is. If so, you should really try to work on this. Maybe that's why we haven't hung out in a while. Work on your excitement level. Thanks.)

Anyway, here's some really great music to make you less boring/more tolerable to be around.

These guys, The War on Drugs, have got it! I dig their jingle-jangle rockstar sound, and they are waaaaaay more fun than the actual War on Drugs which, no no, don't even get me started on that.

Have fun!

OFFICE JOBS!

Funny news. So, there's this woman at my work, H____, but my friends and I call her "Popcorn." Do let me explain! So, it's the first day of work on the floor, after training. It's Friday. People are freakin' out, riding motorized scooters/segways and shooting Nerf guns all over. I'm thinking, This is one hell-of-a crazy place. Everybody's workin' for the weekend! It's true! Anyway, so these Nerf darts are flying and zooming all over the office, and all of a sudden there's a shriek, followed by a "WHAT THE FUCK?!" and an "Alright! Who hit my FUCKING ear?! That FUCKING hurt!!" Repeat, repeat and repeat the unnecessary loud vulgarities. Well, if you didn't guess. Someone hit H_____ Popcorn in the ear with a Nerf dart. People are tittering, whispering and giggling in their cubes around the floor. I'm shocked. Remember, it's my first-ish day with these people. I'm thinking, What the hell is wrong with my co-workers? A few minutes after the incident I have to ask my team lead a question and I mention this woman's outburst. She says, "Oh yeah, her" knowingly. Apparently this H_____ Popcorn is a troublemaker. Alright, so comes in the Popcorn part. Next Monday,one of my buddies, TJ, was recounting the story to someone who was OOO (out-of-office) Friday and he didn't want to keep sayin' "fuck" because he wasn't sure about this co-workers vulgarities tolerance so he implanted "Popcorn" to fill, thus Ms. H____ became "Popcorn" -- for that reason, and also I didn't care to know her real name which would result in making her seem human.


Fast forward to yesterday. I drank a lot of coffee so naturally, I needed to relieve myself. I walk into the bathroom startled to find that I woke Popcorn from her little cat nap on the couch. She jolts up and groggily rubs her eyes. Apparently she'd been there for a while because her hair was matted down and she seemed discombobulated. I just think, What a weirdo, and go about my business. Then, this morning, Amber comes up to me and she says, "Did you happen to see H_____ sleeping on the couch in the bathroom yesterday?" And I said, "Yeah! That was weird." And Amber said, "Yeah, I know, right? She's fired!" And I said, "What!? No way!" and she said, "She's done it at least two times before." And I said, "That's crazy!" And Amber said, "You know what else is crazy?"And then she proceeded to tell me a story about when she first started here. Everyone was going through training together, and in order to get to know each other better, each employee was asked to share a funny/embarrassing story. So everyone's talking about their puppies, or families, or vacations they took or whatever, and it comes to be Popcorn's turn. Can you guess what she said? Well, here. Do you remember those Tylenol killings back in the 80s? Popcorn stated she dated one of the suspected men. But he didn't do it! He didn't kill anybody with Tylenol, he only killed the guy who turned him in. WHAT?!?! What?!? Excuse me?!? She's either lying or telling the truth, but both make me scratch my head searching for a reason to share. Did this company not have an interview/screening process in the beginning before it hired anyone?! They should've fired her right then and there if you ask me! But then again, I'm a little sad to see her gone. She was a mysterious, strangely fascinating creature. Like a car pile-up wreck, everyday another car or semi would smash into the already huge pile of debris and disbelief. Another thing bizarre, I guess she would sometimes stay in the office past midnight (the cleaning lady told my cube mate)... don't ask me why or what she did. I don't know and I don't care to. Hmm. So, how about that?!

Oh, and let me also mention that this is the woman who spends most of her days on the telephone, taking personal calls. These are usually from her 53-year-old boyfriend who is a recovering alcoholic that drinks a 1/5th of vodka a day. I'm not judging. I'm just sayin'. They are also very loud, as if she wants everyone in the office to hear her... and she sounds like my step grandmother, which I didn't enjoy. Oh wow! I just remembered, one day her phone rang and it was a personal call from her boyfriend Chuck, or something, I was rushing to get my earphones in and before I slipped them in, I heard her mention something about wet dreams being romantic. I threw up in my mouth a little. This woman!

Kevin Barnes, how do you read my soul?

Eros' Entropic Tundra -- Of Montreal

All I ever get is sad love
while watching all my friends find their happy love
I don't understand why I should be without love

All I ever get is sad love
always falling for the ones who feel nothing for me
Sometimes I think I should just forget about love

I was walking with my parents
through St. Peter's park
When I saw a young couple with a child
They were all holding hands and smiling
They seemed very nice, seemed to have a nice life

All I ever get is sad love
feeling incomplete and below being loved
I don't know why it has been so hard to find love

All I ever get is sad love
the unrequited kind is all I have procured
And it was nothing at all
like what I've heard about love

Without love life has no great reward
leaving us damaged or feeling so bored
Devoid of memories nothing to record
Wishing the ones that we adore loved us more

BANANAS!

Okay, so while I did blast my step-gma a bit this morning, she has had her shining moments. Such as when I was a little girl of 3 and would come up to Chi City to visit my Dad (and step mom) and whenever he made me sad by snapping (often) she would sing:

Katie likes bananas, just like a monkey should.
Katie likes bananas because they taste so good.
Katie Bear would like to say,
Nana nana, all the day.
Katie likes bananas just like a monkey should!

If we're real life friends/acquaintances/lovers ask me to sing the song in your name and I will, gladly, with a smile.

***Everyone's name gets an "ie"/"y" ending. It's just the song. You call me "Katie" in real life and I'll cut you. The name's Kate. Thanks. I'm not yellin', I'm just sayin'. Y'know? Just so y'know. Y'know?!

Pitchfork: The Devil's Music

Wow! So, I'm very excited that Pitchfork is this weekend! It's going to be the best! I'm really looking forward to it, especially since I've recently discovered that I enjoy many of the acts that are going to be taking over the stages in Union Park! AND! Since I'll be enjoying it with my bestest gal pal, Alli Doll!! She's flying all the way in from NYC just to see me (and Pitchfork, and Chicago)!!!

Such acts include, Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver (he wears a fanny pack! my kind of man), M. Ward, and Vampire Weekend (who I used to hate, mainly because I heard them once and thought, hmmm. I think I like these guys, let me give it another try, and then everybody liked them and talked about how great they were and how they're the best band in all the history of music and so I decided that I didn't like them any more because I didn't want to be like everyone else, but it ended up taking a lot of energy trying to avoid them, so I caved and bee-bopped to their songs). Also, I'm really excited to see The Apples in Stereo, Spoon, and DUH! PUBLIC ENEMY!!! Also, Ghostface and Raekwon should be awesome!

I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy every act that I see. Pitchfork seems to have a rigorous definition for great music. Also, for those of you cats that aren't able to attend the weekend's festivities, there's a free preview at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, Thursday, July 17th... read more here.

This playlist looks pretty great! Just to check it out.

Everybody's Working for the Wee-Wee-Weekend!

I bought new running shoes on Friday. I went to Fleet Feet Sports in Piper's Alley. I've never bought running shoes from them before. I waited for 20 minutes, holding a race bib with a "next customer" number on it. I wandered around the store, checking out shoes, triathlon gear (that's just crazy, though one day I would like to participate in one - give me 10 years, or maybe before my 30th year), and watching the general goings on about me while I waited.

I took the bus down North Avenue and then walked down Damen, after depositing a work check in the bank (I really need to get direct deposit -- save the trees, y'know?). Then, I got home and I thought, "Oh man. I really need to call Judy." (My step grandmother who lives in Evanston) So, I did. I expected the conversation to last 5-10 minutes. How silly I was! The conversation lasted about 45 minutes, with the first good-bye said at 30. My mother does the same thing, but I enjoy talking to my mother, for the most part, as she's super silly and says ridiculous things most of the time. Okay, okay. It was nice to catch up with Judy, but at the same time I couldn't help but think of her mean streaks of the past, and I was thinking about how I needed to get going on my run because I had plans to meet friends later in the evening.

This is boring stuff... I went running (IN MY NEW SHOES!), ate a slow dinner, drank some wine, and watched The Soup, then I got ready and went over to my friend's house and hung out outside until it started stormin', then we went inside to laugh, talk, and watch snippets of this Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie, Overdrawn at the Memory Bank with Raul Julia - wasn't really paying attention... but it seemed awful(ly confusing - there was a part where monkeys and giraffes were stumbling drunk around the Sahara). Then I went home and slept.

Saturday I did nothing productive... really, and it was incredible!! Laundry (folded it Sunday), guitar, laziness, Baby's Day Out (sooooo good 2nd time around, you might wish I was kidding, but I'm not, and excellently cast!), Apocalypto (which I didn't love or hate... and the way it was shot reminded me of a PBS special, I kept waiting for a British narrator to describe what was going on when I couldn't read the white subtitles), and sleep.

SUNDAY! I woke up and went for a run, supposed to be 14, but I'm hoping I got closer to 15 as I ran for 2 and 1/2 hours. Oh man, and I definitely should've applied the Vaseline more liberally because I got some chaffage on my underarms (not as bad as this guy). I tried to wish away the pain as I was running. Occasionally it worked and I would have 10-15 minutes of endorphins numbing out the discomfort, then it would strike back with full force. I wasn't the happiest. I had to keep going, I was miles away from home and without my CTA pass. As I ran I thought about the chaffage, I couldn't help myself. I would try to think about anything else; about the old man who was trying to cross the path with his dog and cursed the bikers for riding too fast, about the time Alli and Lisa (two of my best childhood friends) came to visit me over Easter weekend when I was a freshman at DePaul and we took pictures on the pier, and of course, as always, pining after the sweaty men running in front of me until they were out of sight, but it kept going back to the chaffing. And the thought of chaffing kept taking me back to staggering around the finish line after my first marathon. While I was searching for Alli, I walked past a marathoner man and his supportive wife. She gave him a water bottle and a banana and asked him how it went. He said it went well, and that he feels pretty good. Then she said, Oh my! You're bleeding. He said, what? And then I noticed that he had two bloody nipple circles. He said, well, what do you know! That's bad news bears right there! I couldn't imagine how he didn't feel that happening! I was disturbed, and feeling very sore. I took an ice bath, but I'm still walking around like a mummy today, oohing and ahhhing on the stairs. I wish I had a little child or a midget to sit under my chair and massage my calves right now and wiggle my toes and rub aloe vera on my shoulders (they could sit on the chair's arms for that).

I made it home. Showered and biked over to look at an apartment. No, no, no, no! Oh, it was just awful! "Studio-style" for $650. Horribly small with a slanted floor. The woman showing me (the landlord's daughter) mentioned the utilities weren't that expensive. She said all I had to pay for was gas and electricity. She said that they paid for the water. I raised my eyebrow, thinking, really? You pay for the water? I'm pretty sure the city pays for the water, which I'm sure is actually us paying the city in taxes, so the we all pay for water. So, while yes, I supposed you pay for the water, I do, too. Needless to say, I'm not going to live there. On my way home I really hoped that I would find a nice place to live with an affordable rent, in the same neighborhood. That's the clincher right there. I have a feeling it's not going to work out that way and it makes me very, very, very sad. I don't like moving. Moving during childhood has scarred me into believing that life-altering/shattering times are just beginning and this often results in me crying myself to sleep.

On a happier note, I also thought it would be pretty funny to write little stories about my life after spending 1 year in the places that I could potentially live in. Like living in this place for example, I'm fairly confident that my Spanish comprehension would increase ten-fold. And my living standards would be significantly lowered.

What else happened? I went to the grocery store and made some delicious eggs with sauteed spinach dusted with cumin, thyme, Italian seasoning, minced garlic and onion salt for dinner. Then I watched the Simpsons, read a little, and went to bed at 9:30. Call me grandma, and I'll punch you in the face. I was tired.

Magic Music

NPR Music is my savior from office boredom.

Playlist from '06

1. I like this newer Who song which retains their original goodness - what a duo that Townshend and Daltrey are, and they're still sooooo good-lookin' (did you know that they never reached #1 on Billboard?! The classic rock music channel on TV said that, but I'm not going to double check, so let's hope it's right even though that seems outrageously untrue)! Daltrey's voice sounds as good as always, like an angel, not scratched out like some other aged rockers.

2. The Low Lows. Mmm! Yes! I would totally be tricked by this hauntingly melodic spider. And I like this album title, "Fire on the Bright Sky"!

3. This King Crimson song reminds me of Bowie... and it's from '69. Whoa. Just goes to show that good music is timeless. That Athens, Georgia is sure a hub for some great acts...

4. I LOVE RATATAT!! This song just makes me want to dance like a WILD CAT and do an arm shoot out and RAWR with a curled lip. A few hip circles thrown in there and possibly a running man, and some disco eyes. Who's got the smoke machine?

5. This reminds of Vampire Weekend (or rather Vampire Weekend reminds me of the Born Ruffians as they've been around longer), at least the beginning, and all the "hey hey hey hey hey hey hey ahwooooooooooooo!"s. I like this song a lot. Fun lyrics, and the title of course is marvelous, "This Sentence Will Ruin/Save Your Life"

6. Baby I'm Yours. YAY! I love this song... eh, a mediocre cover. Disappointing. Arctic Monkeys, merh.

This playlist definitely has some quality songs that I believe require further investigation and perhaps investment. Yes.

I love French music. Rooo troi, shu shu. A staff pick, sounds pretty good so far. Wiki compared her to Bjork. How fun! I hope she's not as crazy.

A who's a what?

Oh. I thought I was going to Feist's show at Ravinia tonight with some friends, but alas, the show has been sold out since her birth. Drat! I'm actually kind of glad. Don't get me wrong, I think it will be a great concert for those in attendance, but I wasn't looking forward to rushing through my after-work routine... I didn't run last night because of the SOCK PUPPET WORKSHOP (which I'll post about perhaps this afternoon - still need to do Olaf and Jersey Boys) and then it was raining and I didn't feel like getting wet, and this morning it was still raining at 5am and I thought it would be delightful to get another hour of sleep. Soooo, I need to do that this evening (even brought my gear with me - crap! I didn't grab the right sports bra!! - maybe I'll stop off at Fleet Feet Sports after work b/c I have a $25 credit and I do need new shoes, too and I have a check to deposit -- sidenote within a sidenote, I really need to start wearing socks with my boat shoes because I can smell them, my feet, and I'm sitting in a chair with my feet on the floor - grossssssssssssssss). Also now I can go to the Art Institute if I feel like it, and I just may. And my friend Mariko suggested a girls night out or BBQ or something fun, so yay!

I can't wait to drink some beers and play my guitar after work!! Merh! I have to do laundry, too. And I need to get a haircut... and make doctor's appointments since I'm paying a RIDICULOUSLY high amount for health insurance... Pops! What plan'd'ya put me on that's charging [ME because I'm an independent adult who wishes her parents were still footing the bill of life] $470 a quarter!!?!?!?! INSANE! So I must get my dollars worth... ahhh, but to find a good doctor in this huge city and making appointments is not something I'm looking forward to. At all. I wish I had a free personal assistant... otherwise known as a slave (because I wouldn't be paying them, DOIY!) but without the negative connotations.

I was a grown-up last night and did my first round of student loan payments. I didn't like that. The consolidation still hasn't gone through, another thing I have to do today that I probably won't. And I need some of these apartment people to call me back and let me know when I can see my potential future home. Oh geez! Oh geez!

I just want to take a nap. It's really quiet in the office right now and I don't feel like doing work. Surprise. Surprise. I've only done 2 profiles as of right now. An assisted living community in historic New Bern, NC and a delightful dentist in Naples, FL. Now I'm working on a deep sea fishing charter boat company in Naples, FL. I can crank out 1-5 in an hour and we only have to write 9 a day, so it's not a worry.


How about this guy? Dangerous. This fishing boat company that I'm working on right now has a dolphin on it's webpage and it made me think of Flipper. And I wanted to see a picture of Flipper, so I googled it. I found a picture of two boys talking to a dolphin (I wonder what they would talk about... probably something like that crazy Scottish story with the seal as a Silkie that steals the girl and takes her off the cliff, under the water to live in his kingdom with her forever and ever, maybe they would talk about that, and the dolphin would say that he would never trick anyone into living under water, but then he does, and he just said that to gain the boys trust and distract them from the other dolphin coming up behind them with an ethanol soaked rag, or the dolphin in the picture with the laser) and it made me think of the Simpsons Halloween episode where the dolphins invade land and over-rule the humans with their incredible sea smarts. So I searched for that, and I found this picture... fiction becomes fact and I think it's a bad idea to give the dolphins weapons, as I'm sure that as soon as we do they will congregate and take matters into their own hands. Not a good idea, Army. Not a good idea. The picture taken immediately after this one most likely shows the man's decapitated body with a smoke cloud where the head should be. Almost as ridiculous as the sharks with lasers on their heads. How about that? Mike Myers' is a central creator for our defense system. Neat. I wonder what's going to come out of the Love Guru.

not everyone has the same face tattoos.

'Tis true. They don't. No snowflake is the same. No fingerprint. No watercolor painting. And yes, the same goes for face tattoos. We learned this at Rothbury from our friend Pullman who was a lone explorer for most of the weekend and always came back with the craziest of tales, such as sharing a bag of Franzia with a face-tattooed lady.



** This is not the lady. Just an example of a face tattoo. What kind of person tattoos their face? How badly must that hurt. I don't think I will ever get a face tattoo... unless I murder someone, and then I will tattoo a tear falling from my right eye so people know that I am a badass and they should not mess with me. **

Sumner! Time? Noon-ish on Thursday.

We came to Rothbury to celebrate our freedoms. Freedom to rock. Freedom to roll. Freedom to dance with all your soul. Freedom to wave our freak flags high, high, high in the sky!

The journey began with a frenzied packing Wednesday after work... I forgot a pillow, my cow bell, and warmer clothes amongst other things. At 6:38pm I boarded the Metra from Chi City up to Cary with Ms. SJ. Smash McDash picked us up and we groceried, packed, slept for about 3.7 hours and headed up to Michigan in the cool, dark, dew-studded morning.

Get your motor running.
Head out on the highway!

We were the first car to arrive at the pre-determined TB location in Grand Rapids, or Muskegon, or some other Michigan town. I read RS mag while we waited in the parking lot, there was a special on Bonnaroo that got me verrrrrrrrry excited about what was to come from my festival experience. Also, crazy Amy Winehouse... something else that one is. Oh geez! It was cold and cloudy and we all crossed our fingers that once we entered Rothbury the sun would be shining and the sweat would be pouring. It happened, thank goodness. First, we waited in line for about 2-ish hours to get wristbands, maps, and finally, our perfect camping location!! (We were in the Price Lot on the red road, just south and in between the two bathrooms; after the 2nd First Aid tent, showers, sinks, and port-a-potties, just beyong the nitrus tanks and two trees) It was a trek into the festival grounds, but well worth it, for the music and the friends made the time very worth the while.

Looking for adventure, And whatever comes our way!

We had a sweet set-up with two loungin' canopies filled with chairs, tables, Bag sets, coolers, and surrounded by our tents. We were right on the edge, so we got a great view of our fellow festival-goers, from those still awake from the night before, dazing their way back to their tents to the highly decorated Dance Police to those peddling walking vendors of glass, T-shirts, headies, doces, and E to the drunks at 11:02. It was good!

FREEDOM!!

The American flag marked the spot to home. And we shouted at the people as they passed, encouraging them to celebrate their freedoms and show them to us.

Yeah darling go make it happen,
Take the world in a love embrace,
Find all of the guns at once - and
Explode into space!

Thursday night I saw Greensky Bluegrass, and they did an amazing Pink Floyd cover from Dark Side of the Moon, though I'm lacking on specifics right now. Then, we sat in the Sherwood forest, in awe of the beauty of the giant pine trees and all the decorations and hammocks. It was truly a magical place, and incredible to be surrounded by such majestic nature. The trees reached up, up, upwards grazing the star-sparkled black velvet sky. We heard Perpetual Groove through the trees and they sounded nice and groovy. Then Steveo and I wandered over to hear Zappa Plays Zappa - and my goodness! How bizarre! How incredible! I loved it! Tiny pillows and tiny sheets! It was funky, groovy, crazy, and cool. Everyone was really into the act, performers and concert-goers alike. The keyboardist woman did this crazy Cartman-inspired act and I had no idea what was going on, but it was good. After about 45 minutes of that we trekked back to the Sherwood Court to Mickey Hart and his people. They did an awesome cover of "Fire on the Mountain" the energy of the performers, and the light spectacle of a rising red and flashing white lights. Mickey was set-up in the middle, surrounded by drums, dancing through them with skill and gusto. It was incredible!

Oh boy! The temperature dropped. I shivered and rushed back to my tent to grab more layers (I had to be creative, because I didn't pack many warm things). On the way back to the festival grounds with Steveo and J-Dub we saw a wicked fight. A beating might be a better term. It was brutal. We're walking, just minding our own business. As we approach the port-a-potties area we can hear the ksccchhhhhhsssssshhhhhhhhhhschhhhhhhhh! of the nitrus tanks growing louder and louder, more people stumbling around with balloons in their hands. The boys explain that nitrus is "hippie crack." Then we see it. A swirling mass of people whipping through the passersby. I'm confused. What are these people doing? Are they dancing? Is this some crazy festival version of the Sharks versus the Jets? I don't get it. Oh no, wait. It's a group of 5 guys beating the shit out of one dude. Fists are pummeling into the middle of the group, legs and arms are everywhere. Shouting and chaos. I jump out of the way, helpless with my hands to my face I weakly say, "Oh no! Stop! What are you doing?!" What am I going to do? I can't jump in the middle of that. We need some horseback security which is nowhere to be seen. I got separated from the boys as the trainwreck ensued. Eventually they got the dude up against the car and were kicking him, repeatedly. It was the worst thing I've ever witnessed. I was appalled. I was speechless. I was shocked at the violence of humanity. Then they stopped as quickly as they started. Satisfied with their delivered punishment, the sauntered away, high-fiving each other for a beating well done and cursing about how that's what the fuck gets for trying to steal their shit. Fuckin' nitrus, dirty bastards - thugs. The guy sat slump-shouldered against the car, battered and bruised, looking in a daze as he couldn't imagine what he just experienced... and everyone continued on their way. I sure hope he's okay...

I found my friends and we tried to comprehend what we just saw, trying to put our emotions into words as we passed through Shakedown Street and back into the festival grounds. We saw EOTO and they were - wow. Always a good show. Always something new and fresh. Who knew old dudes could rock so hard? Wow! And they played at the Tripolee Domes which looked like something out of a space settlement - these steel Epcot-like open-air domes and crazy canopies draped here and there (a li'l like this). The crowd was loving the show. I was loving life. An excellent first day, and a good indication of the amazing things to come.

I like smoking lightning!
Heavy metal thunder!
Racing with the wiiiiind,
And this feeling that I'm under!

Fun day, Friday! FREEDOM!! Show us your freedoms!! Freedom for all! America, FUCK YEAH! Coming to save the motherfucking day, yeah! America, FUCK YEAH! Freedom is the only way, yeah! Hmmm MMM hmmm hmmm! America, FUCK YEAH! Lick my butt and suck on my balls!

Liberty, FUCK YEAH!
White Slips, FUCK YEAH!
The Alamo, FUCK YEAH!
Band-aids, FUCK YEAH!
Las Vegas, FUCK YEAH!
Christmas, FUCK YEAH!
Immigrants, FUCK YEAH!
Columbine, FUCK YEAH!
Democrats, FUCK YEAH!
Republicans (republicans)
(fuck yeah, fuck yeah)
Sportsmanship.....
Books.....

Tea Leaf Green was boooooooooooooooring. The keyboardist got underneath his instrument, maybe trying to figure out what it was exactly... trying to tune it, who knows. The guitarists were amazed with each other's playing ability, and they all seemed confused that they were on stage, perhaps wondering why all these people were just standing around watching them. I wondered that too, and so I left.

The Wailers. Oh my goodness. That was probably one of my favorite shows. They played at the Odeum, the main stage. The large, brilliant red curtains billowed in the breeze. Elan Atais acted as some sort of mystical wind shaman dancing around the stage, beckoning the air to sweep across the crowd. Stir It Up, Jammin' and One Love, of course are always favorites, as is No Woman, No Cry. They played everything you wanted to hear. And I did cry during One Love. It was a really powerful performance. Everyone in the audience sang "one love, one heart" over and over until everyone joined in. It was one of those festival moments where you realize people are people, everywhere you go. (I wanted everyone to hold hands and share a big hug, something really peaceful and loving - it was a totally hippie 60s moment for me... but only in my head did that happen. I asked my friends to, but they looked at me like I was crazy because it was so effin' hot.) For in that moment, the crowd of thousands became the heart of one. It was something that I'll remember always.

Then, I had to get more water. SJ and I trekked back to the magical water spot (the water in the camp ground tasted like rust - blach!) crossed paths with Betty LaVette who was rocking some old style deep south jammin' blues, and then Sam Beam of Iron and Wine was a stroll through a park at dusk, beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. Oh, and the ridiculousness ensued with Mr. Snoop Dogg. He rolled out on some crazy bike about 4:35 sayin' "It's 4:20 - time to smoke!" (it stayed 4:20 until about 4:52 - which was slightly confusing because I was not aware that Snoop a Loop could control time), but before that there was plenty of time to let every woman show her freedoms on the jumbo-tron. Some that should not have. I shook my head many a times. The show was bizarre. I can't really say I hated it, but I won't say that I loved it either. It was an experience that I otherwise wouldn't have had. An experience that I won't soon forget. That man has some ego I tell ya, he closed the show with about 5ish minutes of, "What's my motherfuckin' name?" SNOOP DOGG. But it was fun because he sang it all different ways; slow, fast, jazzy, rappy, and on. Listened to some Keller Williams, love that Freaker by the Speaker. Then there was Modest Mouse, who simply rocks all the time, and then subtly transforms into the prettiest, most melodic music, with the darkest lyrics - I love them, forever and for always. Yonder Mountain String Band was a fun show, too. My legs were a little wobbly, so I just watched the crazies jump around me, and that was completely entertaining.

Sumner! Time? 8:40.

Warm clothes. FREEDOM! Of Montreal!! Another best show! Kevin Barnes, so theatrical. As always, they delivered a rockin' show. Two previews of new songs for an album that is TBR in October - really great, one was something about Tender Meat or Love, something. And they played Gronlandic Edit, and Hissing Fauna, and they closed out with Party's Crashing Us. Oh wow! I boogied/flailed about in the crowd as the neon lights splashed across my face. They even had other performers, little kids in masks that were super creepy and a dude that put grease all over his face and rocked unlike anything I've ever seen before. Then I caught the last part of Widespread Panic, it was eh (I hear the first set rocked out, but the second one was more filler). Not really my type of music, but it wasn't bad.

I had to buy a sweatshirt because I sweat through my hoodie at Of Montreal and I couldn't stop shaking. $55 and they didn't even have my size, so I draped the large around my shivering, sunned skin, and pulled the head chords tight. A cool design, but I wish for that money I would've at least got a line-up on the back. Desperate times call for expensive merchandise.

I went back to catch Primus (wish I would've stopped to see Thievery Corporation, but alas, I did not) but I was waiting so long, and it was so cold that I left for the campground. I stopped off at Flosstradamus for a while and that was rocking - of course. And it was really funny because there was this clean-cut man in a collared sweatshirt, grayed, in his early-50s I'd say, dancing and grooving to the music... on drugs? His short wife stood with her short, poofy brown hair and big glasses, watching on... maybe they made a deal that he would get to relive his youth and trip acid on Friday and then it would be her turn on Saturday, that way things wouldn't get too out of hand. I watched and giggled as the ravers next to me danced around their flickin' flashlight trying not to get their feet burned by its rays.

My bones were aching so I trudged through Shakedown Street ("Doces. Doces. Mollie. Balloons. Pipes. Headies. Doces. Doces."), hoping not to witness another tank-related attack. I did not, thank goodness. But balloons were abound! Back to my tent. BRRRRRRRRR! It's cold! Another night of serious spooning so we don't freeze to death!

Yeah I'm gonna go make it happen,
Take the world in a love embrace,
Find all of the guns at once - and
Explode into space!

FREEDOM!

Saturday, and still one day to go!!! I caught Gomez, and they were good... I liked them a lot. British rockers with a rotating sound of delicious melodies and harmonies... a li'l bit of this and a li'l bit of that. I wasn't a huge fan of the Dresden Dolls, at all, and walked on to catch The Black Keys. I entertained myself some how in the time between, probably sitting in the forest. Oh, that Sherwood. The Black Keys rocked, so I thought. But then some people in our party were saying they were tuning the guitar between every song. Merh. Whatever, I shook it and dug it and had a groovin' good time. Michael Franti and Spearhead rocked out in peace, and it was a happy concert, all about love and going places, following dreams in the back of a Greyhound bus. Living life.

Dave Matthews blew as I expected. Well, yeah. No. I don't like him. I did enjoy Satellite, but the show just seemed so rehearsed and forced, so set to a tee. The saxophonists sounded like farts and the violin man had to woo the crowd back into happiness as Dave opened his mouth wide and ate the mic. I like jamming, I like improv. I like spontaneity!! C'mon, DMB stop being soooooo lame!
When I was walking through the forest earlier that day a dude walking behind me coughed a-once, a-twice to get attention - you don't turn around to these calls unless you're looking for trouble. Then he walked up to me and said he was in a band and asked if I wanted something other than Dave that night, and I excitedly said, "Yeah!" Then he gave me his bands flyer and said they'd be playing in the campground. "Well, are you any good?" He laughed and said he thought so. "What do you play?" Guitar. "Cool, alright. What type of music, I mean." A jam reggae hyrib with a rock infusion. "And what're called?" The Roots of Creation. "Alright man. In the campground?" Yeah. And then he said the directions really quickly and after we said our farewells I realized I didn't understand where the show was and the flyer was only for upcoming tour dates. Drat! But then! As Smash and I walked back to the tents to get warm clothes we heard the music. The Roots of Creation were jamming by the first major intersection behind the Port-a-Johns in the Rodeo Lot. Incredible! They sounded awesome, and they had a mini set complete with neon lights and good speakers. Very professional, very impressive. Dancy grooves. And they played an amazing cover of Talking Heads' "Naive Melody." It was a great surprise to find them, and a relief to have some entertainment while DMB and their uptightness stank up the mainstage. Rock on, rockers!
STS9 rocked, incredibly! It was a freak show for sure, and the grooves drifted through the crowd and people went wild!! Crowded and electric. Smash and I were shakin' it, standing over our bags and a hairy, sunned, ripe, hippied-out mid-20s man danced in front of us in a loin cloth-esque outfit with a sunflower headpiece. He was so happy. Next to him stood 4 of his polar opposites. Dudes with their strap-on coolers of beer, ball caps, khakis and sandals... the same age, suits on the weekdays. I wondered what Sunflower did and where the split occured for these young men to go the path of bohemian or corporate man.

I. LOVE. FESTIVALS.
I. LOVE. MUSIC.
I. LOVE. PEOPLE.

About an hour and a half into STS9's set Smash and I were pooped and we went to sit against a tree in Sherwood, watching the lights dance through the trees, listening to the echoing laughter of those surrounding us and the bouncing, distant electronic sounds flowing from the stage whence we came. Then we dragged our tired bodies back to the tent.

Like a true nature's child,
We were born
Born to be wild.
And we can climb so hiiiiiiiigh,
I never wanna diiiiiiiiiiiiie.

Sumner! It's 1pm. The last day.

Oh my gosh! I'm spent. I can barely move. My ass hurts from walking and dancing in flip-flops or no shoes at all. My feet are filthy, I smell. I haven't showered at all and only wet my hair once on Friday to cool myself down. I missed more than I saw on Sunday - which I can only be disappointed in myself for. I did catch a little of that JJ Grey & MOFRO, in passing-by. Listened to Trey battle it out with Colbie Calliat in the trees between, shouting about freedoms on our blanket. Checked out funky Gov't Mule and dug it. Then trekked to see John Mayer. It was alright, he shouldn't be singing, just jammin' on his geetar. He's a funny guy talking about how if he were elected to the Oval Office he would spend billions of dollars on a black-and-white swirling "time machine" and that's why he said he was a guitar player instead. It was groovy. I got sucked into the lazy atmosphere of the relaxing tunes and hanging out with friends and completely forgot all about Atmosphere (everyone said it was great though, which makes me happy to hear) until it was over which put me in a sour mood for Phil Lesh & Friends until about 30 minutes into and then I had to Shake it, Shake it Sugarie to free myself from the past that I couldn't change. It took everything I could muster just to put in that last hippie shake on Phil & Friends.

The last night was the warmest, and it was great for the evening concerts. There were a couple drops of rain before bed, and during the middle of the night the winds whipped and the rains poured and the lightning and thunder tore through the barriers of light and sound. Thank goodness we only needed to pack up on Monday. Our tent dripped drops on our noses. That didn't make us happy, but the rain drowned out the sounds of the nitrus tanks, so that was nice.

Born to be wiiiiild
(Bwah wah wah waaaah wah wah!)
Born to be wiiiiiild
(Szah wah wah waaaah waah wah!)

All in all, it was incredible. This post doesn't do it justice. The laughs, the tears, the friends, the beers. The horses, the shit, the port-a-potties, the hippies. The monkeys, the art, the sound quality(!) was candy, the freedom, the adventure, the exploration. It was all so good. I feel completely content that I was able to experience the very first Rothbury, and I am totally down for it next year.

This next time though, I'm bringing more stuff. More bananas. More energy drinks. An arsenal of water bottles. A better bag -- fanny pack! Sunglasses that don't slide. A tent marker that I can uproot and take inside with me so friends can gather (other people had rain sticks, medicine man-esque walking sticks, mannequin heads on posts). Also, more freak gear (there was the Dance Police and one dude dressed in a bishop's outfit smeared with "blood" and a "666" on his hat). Festival!! I loved being dirty, but it was so nice to get clean. Now we're back in society and we must function with the rest of the droids. Until next time.

Keep on keeping on.

Peace,
Penny


[11.25.08] "Captain's chair" tattoo, note.