Waterlogged Moustaches!

This is my favorite picture from the Olympics - I didn't even watch the games, but I found this on http://www.si.com/ and it's amazing!! CROATIA!

Marco, get that ball out of here!

-You got it, Polo.

SMACK!

-Did you see Mishla's sisters in the stands?

Yes, they are looking very beautiful tonight.

-If we win maybe we will have a chance to make them our brides.

That would be the ultimate!

-Very much I agree with you. And the goats they would bring.

Ultimate!

(duh, with Croatian accents!)

I actually know nothing about Croatia... I hear they have an amazing porn industry though. I hear. Uh, they recently joined NATO, and they have one of the most advanced stable functioning market economies in South-Eastern Europe. How 'bout that? Alright, Croatia! And it looks pretty nice, too.

Money. Success. Fame. Glamour.

"Well, congratulations on getting out of the very dangerous world of haberdashery!"
--James St. James

My friend, Ashley, and I really like the movie, Party Monster (Culkin and Green were hilarious, fabulous and brilliant, as was the rest of the cast [Marilyn Manson!!], and it's just such a crazy story. I like it a lot). I have yet to read the book, Disco Bloodbath, written by the glamorous Mr. James St. James, but it's definitely at the top of my list... near-top.

Last year I was a Club Kid-ized Tinkerbell for Halloween: neon and glitter, green wig, sparkle wings, and fairy dust to sprinkle on those brave enough to say "yes, please" or those unfortunate enough to be within range as the night wore on. Anyway, Ashley and I decided that we're going to dress up like Club Kids for this EOTO concert we're going to in October. So last week, while at work (cause I still don't have internet at home, thanks for being responsible Comcast) I googled "Club Kids" to find outfit inspiration, and I stumbled upon this little gem of a blog history of fashion ethnography. Funny and fabulous!

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Then, at the bottom there was this article with delicious pictures of Mr. Rafael (his fans call him "Rafa") Nadal. Below are my favorites as I want to be able to look at them all the time without having to go through the link, found here. And I'm not a huge tennis fan, I mean, I appreciate what these athletes do for training and their talent and all that jazz, but I don't clear my schedule to watch it... maybe I'll start so I can oogle Mr. Rafa (who, by the way is #1 in the world. I didn't get to watch the Olympics at all, either. Again, Comcast, but that's another story and it's boring. I don't really mind that I missed 'em, except what if I'm on a game show one day and they ask me something about the 2008 Olympics and I won't know because I didn't watch 'em and didn't really care enough to read up on 'em.).

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OH, and I think I'm hilarious and I put this up as my gchat status: He may be younger and stronger than me, but that's nothing a li'l chloroform soaked rag can't beat. He will be mine. Oh yes, Nadal will be mine. With this picture to the right as my image. And I joke about the chloroform, I mean, really? C'mon. But if I did, it would be in a humorous Jim Carrey as Ace Ventura type of way. And Nadal and I would laugh and laugh, as I duct taped him to a bed. No, I kid. I kid!

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Don't Blow It!!

Yesterday I was reading the latest-ish issue of Rolling Stone, 1059, and I stumbled upon this gem that got my heart racing and goosebumps raising with excitement and fear for the future of this beautiful and stubborn country.

I don't usually check the bylines, unless I have strong convictions towards the thoughts expressed, one way or another... since I fell in love with the seamless words half a page in, I glanced up and saw a name that was much to my surprise (though it shouldn't've been): Michael Moore. Brilliant, blatant, and totally un-bourgeoisie. A man of the people, shouting for the people when they cannot do it themselves... have a read, I think he brings up some pretty relevant points.

[Updated 8/25] And we got Biden!! Hoorah!! My brother sent me a good article on him. Lately I haven't been following everything as much as I feel I should, one because the media is pissing me off with all it's repetition and two because I... don't really have an excuse not to read the paper, so forgive me and I'm working on it. Here's the Biden article. (Note: You may or may not have to login to read, but it's all the news that's fit to print for free!! So, why not?!)

Oh, a fun day in the office.

My office is amazing. I have to tell you this as a preface. For my first "real job" I couldn't have asked for anything better. Can I tell you my employment up until this point? Wait, that'll be another post. No, I'll tell you now. No. I'm not going to. Alright, apparently I'm schizophrenic - wonderful. But, really. This job. Prime location. I get PAID to write semi-creative stuff. Everyone is friendly and fun, and if they're not, they make up for it in these quirky little things that they do. I may complain, but it's better to have something to complain about than nothing at all? Does that work? Sure. We'll say, YES!

Okay, so I use gmail, and I have other friends in offices that use gmail as well, thus resulting in daily mass email chains. Topics range from weekend plans to stupid area sports debates (which I usually delete because I don't really care about who has a better batting average or RBIs or who can hit the most field goals or whatever - I kid about the hitting field goals, I'm not that stupid!), but today I called on them for a little un-biased office advice, supplying them with this*:

FYI - this gets ranty.

I've got a dilemma in my office, folks.

So, there's this douche bag named *Captain Crunch. (Nicknames include: MP3 [cause he thinks he's the end all, be all when it comes to tunes] and then we settled on Tucker or Tuck [cause he's a bit of a fucker.) Complete douche. Total a-hole, thinks he's God's gift to the world, pretentious fuck. Just a total dick bag. I really, kind of, hate him - a lot. I like most people, if not tolerate them, but not this guy. Not this guy. Something about him just sets my blood aboil.

Anyway, this jerk wad is CONSTANTLY on the phone - taking personal calls at least, and I kid you not, 5 times a day. Y'know, I know this is a temp job and it's a "relaxed" atmosphere but he's always talking. (Note: others occasionally take calls and this doesn't bother me, because they speak so soft I can barely even tell they're talking to another person on the tele and assume they're just talking to themselves like I occasionally do.) He never turns his cell phone on vibrate, and it's this stupid ascending ring tone that he just lets ring and ring and ring, and then he answers it and talks and talks and talks. It's usually his girlfriend who he lovingly refers to as "homegirl" and they usually talk about her asthma attacks or paying rent or how he's not going to pay for his parking tickets because he's from the South.

Or one time, and this was good, I'll admit, he had to deal with a friend who was arrested for leaving her baby on a porch one morning back in Hickland. Yeah, it doesn't only happen in movies! It took a couple of days to figure this situation out as he was speaking in spy code, but kept mentioning class D felony, and then my buddy did some investigating, he's trained as a journalist, and found the truth.

This guy has absolutely no shame in discussing personal issues on company time, he doesn't even quiet his voice. It's not as if the cubicle "walls" are sound-proof - and it's incessant. Incessant!!

Everyone around him always sighs when he gets on the phone. Managers don't seem to mind or take notice, and... well, here's where you come in, would it be totally out of line for me to say something to him? Like, "take your fucking personal shit out in the hall!", or "leave your life at home", or "go to fuckin' hell I hate you and your stupid face!!!!!" Would this be wrong? How would you deal, I mean, really? It's distracting and I think rude and unprofessional. Has this boy no manners?!?!? Apparently not.

I'm thinking I should probably say something before I go absolutely insane and just start shake-shake-shaking him.

Is this bad? Is this bad?

You've got a dart in your neck.

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!!

I DON'T WANT TO WORK IN AN OFFICE!!!

I like all my other co-workers.

I've officially lost my mind.

PS - don't be afraid of me?


[And that's what I sent to my friends, and I'm so thankful that my keyboard is still working. I promise, I'm not usually an angry person - it's something I've been trying to work on. Yikes, bikes!]


Then, I got some fun responses! Including, but not limited to:

--I'd probably stab him with something nasty.

--As you might have noticed, I do not tend to shy away from telling people my mind. Yes this has gotten me in trouble in the past, but I sleep very well at night. I would approach the situation head on, yet polite in the beginning. Say something like "I can't work with you douching all over the phone all day." Maybe even be that person who rats him out to the boss. Moral of the story, if this is really pissing you off, tell him. It's not going to get better by keeping your mouth shut.

And then I said,

Alright you guys, I'm going to do it! I'm going to grab the bull by the balls and squeeze til they pop. (Ew. That was graphic.)

I can't wait for this phone to ring. Oooh, my heart just started racing slightly with the thought of confrontation - oh man. Politeness is key, I will keep that in mind - and a switchblade in my pocket.

Someone also suggested that I be realistic and take it to a manager, and I was going to, but then another co-worker did - so we'll see what happens with that. Then, someone else said that people in their office were arguing intensely and had been at it for a good 5 minutes. Office fights abound!

I then suggested that TLC needs to come up with a new program, "The Fighting Office" (spin-off of "The Singing Office") it's Ultimate Fighting + Office Space =ing ENTERTAINMENT!! Wouldn't that be fun!? Don't steal my idea, or I'll fight you! Co-hosts would be fight master Chuck Liddell and everyone's favorite blue-haired grandma Bea Arthur.





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And then, there was this:

--I suggest you approach this situation like a cat or dog would. When he answers his phone, enter his cube and swat his phone out of his hand. Once the phone is on the ground, proceed to drop you pants or lift your skirt and urinate all over the phone. The important thing to remember is that you want to stare directly into his eyes, without blinking or smiling while you do this. Once done urinating all over his phone, you say "You're phone is ringing." Then walk back into your cube and start working like nothing happened.

So, like I said, a fun day in the office. Good times, good times. I'm going to strum the shit out of my guitar tonight! And hopefully run before that, without tearing apart my knee!

PS - I might get fired for this. Oh God, I hope not! I have so many bills to pay! Soooo many! Stupid, stupid, stupid student loans. They make me want to cry, and throw away my phone. If I run away and live in the woods... come back in 7 years with an epic book and a changed name, could they get me then? Hmmm.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty [of office disruption].

--This post was written in the (sing it like the song) Heat of the moment - anger was coursing through my veins. The heat of the moment, I didn't mean any paaaaaaaaaaaaaain. In all honesty, folks, as annoying as it is (and it is!) it's kind of nice to have a silly, "Wait. What'd he just say?!" moment with co-workers, but then it just doesn't stop. You'd think you wouldn't have to tell someone that they aren't behaving appropriately/professionally, especially a twentysomething... at least that's what I thought... but as I've seen with my roommate, twentysomething boys are gross and rude. Great!

I like Laughing

I do. It's true, and so should you.

Laugh away friends, laugh away.

Chuckle, chortle, snort.

Har, guffaw, however you will,

But be careful not to choke on your borscht.

Try a little, will you?

LUNPFM

More from the brilliant Mr. James Agee: (I recommend reading it outloud, as does he)

All over Alabama, the lamps are out. Every leaf drenches the touch; the spider’s net is heavy. The roads lie there, with nothing to use them. The fields lie there, with nothing at work in them, neither man nor beast. The plow handles are wet, and the rails and the frogplates and the weeds between the ties: and not even the hurrying and hoarse sorrows of a distant train, on other roads, is heard. The little towns, the county seats, house by house white-painted and elaborately sawn among their heavy and dark-lighted leaves, in the spaced protections of their mineral light they stand so prim, so voided, so undefended upon starlight, that it is inconceivable to despise or to scorn a white man, an owner of land; even in Birmingham, mile on mile, save for the sudden frightful screaming, almost instantly diminished and silent, of a closed black car, and save stone lonesome sinister heelbeats, that show never a face and enter soon, a frame door flush with the pavement, and ascend the immediate lightless staircase, mile on mile, stone, stone, smooth charted streams of stone, the streets under their lifted lamps lie void before eternity. New Orleans is stirring, rattling, and sliding faintly in its fragrance and in the enormous richness of its lust; taxis are still parked along Dauphine Street and the breastlike, floral air is itchy with the stilettos and embroiderings above black blood drumthroes of an eloquent cracked indiscoverable cornet, which exists only in the imagination and somewhere in the past, in the broken heart of Louis Armstrong; yet even in that small portion which is the infested genitals of that city, never free, neither of desire nor of waking pain, there are the qualities of the tender desolations of profoundest night. Beneath the gulf lies dreaming, and beneath, dreaming, that woman, that id, the lower American continent, lies spread before heaven in her wealth. The parks of her cities are iron, loam, silent, the sweet fountains shut, and the pure facades, embroiled, limelike in the street light are sharp, are still:

The Homeless

I love it when they're honest. I hate lying liars. Oh, you're hungry? For what? Booze? Crack? Heroin? Yeah. That's what I thought, ya dirty bum!

The best bum story (ps - don't search "bum" in Google images at work, because a bum's what you get - and not the homeless kind! Oops!) happened in Portland, Maine. It was summer 2005. I was walking through the historic streets with my pals Brett and Dustin (co-counselors, our first day off after training, before the first session started) and we walked past an old homeless man. He called out for change, and Brett said, "Why should we give you our money, old man?" And the homeless man replied, "I'm not gonna lie. I wanna get drunk. I wanna get high." We gave him dollars for his honesty. After all, it is the best policy.

Now the homeless. I understand they've obviously gone through some tough times to get where they are today - on the side of the street - but come on! You most likely brought this upon yourself. I feel bad, but there's a lot of you and I can't go giving quarters to every bum I meet, especially on a daily basis - despite the common misconception, I am not made of money. And, homeless shelters, I'm pretty sure these are around - especially in big cities - to help you get back on your feet and out of the street. I know the economy is bad right now, but that's no excuse not to get yourself a job. Be honest. You're addicted to crack and you don't like paying the tax man.

Also, I don't like feeling bad, so put away your pity signs. You're more likely to shake a few coins from my pockets if I'm laughing. Another good example is the last picture in this post.

Or entertain me! Work for the money. Play me a song, or sing it, or do both! Harmonicas seem easy to play, and I don't believe they're too expensive. A kazoo even. Spoons. Clap your hands, shake your coin cup to a cool beat. Get creative! You have nothing else to do. All the time in the world. Get some friends together and choreograph a dance routine - maybe you'll even get your own television show out of it, knowing the way America loves their exploited persons television shows nowadays.

What? Are you offended? You shouldn't be. They can't ever read this, they don't have homes, let alone computers, unless they're like Drillbit Taylor and they use laptops at Starbucks when the owner gets up to get their mocha java. They don't even know that we're all laughing at them. That we think the misfortunate are hilarious. Sleeping in cardboard boxes, we joke about bum fights. Fight til the death for this sandwich! Never say that in a subway, someone's going to lose an eye, and quiet possibly a life as you hear the switchblades click out. Go ahead and laugh, you should.

And I know the homeless are staples of the city for tourists, but c'mon! We already do so much for tourists. We dress fashionably and blow our cigarette smokes in their children's faces. We're mean, pushy, huffy when we walk behind their slow, fat asses, and we curse loudly on our cell phones when we have important calls. All to impress them. All so they can go home and tell their friends and family in the country of the fast-paced life of the glitzy, glamorous, dirty city.

But in all honesty, have compassion for these people, even if they aren't entertaining you or don't have funny signs. We need them. Our society needs the homeless, because we can always look at them and say, "Thank God I'm not you. Thank God I have a home, even if it's filled with people I hate. At least I have a roof and I contribute to society." I guess they contribute, too, in their own way.... So, don't kick 'em when they're already down, don't say mean things (unless they do first), and please, c'mon, don't kill 'em. No one likes a bum killer. Especially Jesus, he'll be so mad at you.

The Old Wild King

SO, my first go around at senior year I was in a creative non-fiction class and one of the books we were assigned to read was Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, but I only read the parts we were to discuss in class because it's a whoppin' 400+ epic work and I drank a lot and did other things in school that were apparently more important than reading about tenant farmers in 1930s rural South.

Anyway, I picked it up again last night. And so far, so brilliant and beautiful, and I love James Agee, and Walker Evans pictures are great. Here's a poem by Agee to Walker, starting off the book:

Against time and the damages of the brain
Sharpen and calibrate. Not yet in full,

Yet in some arbitrated part

Order the facade of the listless summer.

Spies, moving delicately among the enemy,

The younger sons, the fools,

Set somewhat aside the dialects and the stained skins of feigned

madness,

Ambiguously signal, baffle, the eluded sentinel.

Edgar, weeping for pity, to the shelf of that sick bluff,

Bring your blind father, and describe a little;

Behold him, part wakened, fallen among field flowers shallow

But undisclosed, withdraw.

Not yet that naked hour when armed,

Disguise flung flat, squarely we challenge the fiend.

Still, comrade, the running of the beasts and the ruining heaven

Still captive the old wild king.

I love it. I'll keep you updated.

Do you want to cry?

For some reason NPR wants you to, with their segment called Weeping at the Wheel: Crushingly Sad Songs, which I don't think is a good idea, to encourage crying and driving. It happened to me once, I was by myself driving back to CoMO from Chi-Town and while I wept I didn't realize I was driving into Indiana... awesome - got home 4 hours late. Had to stop in East St. Louis to buy gas, with a check b/c I lost my debit card. It was an adventure?

So, go ahead. Cry like the little itty-bitty baby that you are, see where it gets you - hey! It might be fun. Maybe, or extremely dangerous. Let us know.

It's okay to cry, crying gets the sad out of you. It's okay to cry, cause crying makes you feel better. From Free to Be You and Me, did you watch/listen to that as a child? I did. Ladies first, ladies first! Yeah, you little blonde bitch, go ahead, get eaten by those alligators! --- You should listen/watch, I can't find a link, and there's some stuff on youtube, but I can't get into it at work - well, I could if I really wanted to, but you should learn to do some things on your own. Okay, lazy?

Love you!

--Penny

C'mon, just say "Hi!"

Oh geeze, I need to stop being so awesomely productive in the mornings, cause now it's afternoon and I'm outta work to do. Surprise, surprise. Sigh.

So, I traveled to NPR, I listened to music, and then I stumbled upon this little "This I Believe" segment from Howard White, VP of the Jordan Brand at Nike, entitled, The Power of 'Hello'. Here's a quote I really liked,

The day you speak to someone who has their head held down and when they lift it up and smile, you realize how powerful it is just to open your mouth and say, "Hello."

I also really like this song, Say Hello by Rosie Thomas and Sufjan Stevens. My friend, Lisa, put it on a mix CD for my 22nd birthday last summer, and I would listen to it on repeat like a million times in one day. Hello, hello, hello! Hi, hello!

Another song I could listen to on repeat for forever is Boogie Down by MGMT. I love it! It makes me want to dance! Maybe playing this on a boombox could be another way to say "Hello" instead you would be dancing and say, "Let's dance! I know you want to check out my components!" Unce, unce, unce unce!
PS - this is what comes up when you google "hello" - awesome, yes! Thank you! My day has been made tremendous!! Jerry (that's what I imagine his name is, or Matilde - and it's still a boy) looks really happy, too! Look at that collar!

Paint that shit GOOOOOOLD!

Atmosphere's new-isher album is ah-mazing!!

From"The Rest of Us" to "You" to "Glass House" to "Yesterday" to "Music Box" and all the ones in between, "Guarantees" and "Wild Wild Horses" and "Me" and "The Waitress" too - okay, so everything's great(!). Weaving in old school with the new school and fresh rhymes. Mmm! And Slug's sooooo good-lookin'!

So I've read that this album is more optimistic, or less angry, at least. If you listen to Seven's Travels (bummer, only 30 second snippets! but you get the jist, soooo good - I really like "Always Comin' Back Home to You", "In My Continental", "Cats Van Bags" - and again, superb, quality tunes) you'll notice it, he seemed pretty angry in '03, and now he's starting to change it up because of his baby girl and everything, life is good. Paint that shit gold.

I'm still reeling from the fact that I decided not to see them in Chi City in April because I was going to see them at Rothbury, and then I was too into what was happening, and somehow John Mayer seemed magical and I was stuck on my blanket and missed the show with Brother Ali. Bummer! And people said it was one of the best shows, which there were a lot so that's really sayin' something. At least I got to see 'em in Columbia last fall, so that was good. Something's better than nothing, or so I'm told.


** OH MY!! I just found this in searching for Atmosphere pictures, and wow! I love this, I love it a lot!! Two of my most favorite musical acts, in ONE!!!

I'm still pretty new to Atmosphere, well. I got "Seven's Travels" when it came out because my freshman year roommate knew some good tuneage, and I love that album, but it's the only one that I have. So, I'm still learning - thank you free napster.

Also, I don't know if I've posted this already, but here's an NPR acoustic studio sesh with Slug and two other rockin' musicians; that lady's got some soul. It's delicious.

They're, like, the best band ever! My best friend agrees!

HAHA! They're li'l babies that use flat irons and more product than I have, do, and ever will. Look at 'em. Li'l bitty baby boys! If I were 10 years younger I'd be in love. Alas, I am not, and I laugh instead at the ridiculousness that is the teeny bopper pop music industry. Mickey Mouse, when will your reign of destruction stop influencing the Top 40?!?! Never, probably...

Anyway, I want to share with you, dear reader-friends, something that really made me laugh in Issue 1058 of Rolling Stone Magazine, page 74, an inset to the Jonas Brothers' article entitled, "The Clean Teen Machine" - enticing readers on the front cover by shouting, "The Jonas Brothers: God! Girls! Guitars!" Oh geeze!!

Here we are, the wait is over:

The Essential Jonas, Told by a Fan

-Six new and classic songs you really gotta hear to appreciate the JB craze. As told by die-hard Stephanie Kornfield, 14.

S.O.S JONAS BROTHERS (2007) "This song is about going out on a date with a girl and she brings friends along. It gets everyone pumped at the end of the concert when they play it." Group dating is fun. I like dancing and screaming and being obnoxious!

"6 Minutes" IT'S ABOUT TIME (2006) "Oh my gosh, I love this song. Only fans around at the time know it even exists. It's about six minutes with a girl and what you feel - like having the courage to ask a girl out. It's such a teenager song." You have to know the secret password to even see it at the record store. I can't wait until I'm a teenager!

A Little Bit Longer A LITTLE BIT LONGER (2008) "A very personal song for Nick. It's about his diabetes. A lot of people cry when it comes on. It can be for anyone going through a hard time." I listen to it when I want to see what I look like when I cry in front of a mirror.

"Mandy" IT'S ABOUT TIME (2006) "This is about their best friend growing up. She's a real person - I've met her at concerts and she takes pictures with fans. She's really pretty." They didn't just make her up, they really have friends! And she rides their coattails everywhere they go!

Burnin' Up A LITTLE BIT LONGER (2008) "A great one to dance to. There's a line, 'High heels, red dress,' and girls wear high heels and red dresses to the show. My best friend did. And their bodyguard, Big Rob, comes on at the end of the song. It's so funny." My best friend wore one, but I was too scared. In the bathroom she told me she'd use her heel to spike me if I did.

Year 3000 JONAS BROTHERS (2007) "A clasic. It's a remake of a Busted song. It's about living in the futures, underwater - so crazy." On the Waterworld soundtrack.

Wow. Right? I know. Though after re-reading and then typing that I bet it would be fun to be a kid and in love with the Jonas Brothers (but I heard about 30 seconds - which felt like minutes - of each of those linked songs, and no thanks) or just be me right now and watch the screaming/weeping children for 2 minutes during some song. I would laugh, then shake my head, and then go drink whiskey and listen to The Doors and George Thoroughgood and pass out face down in a gutter somewhere. Saturday night! Yeah!

.

PS - I was looking to post more pictures, and I just - I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it. It's gross all the squeaky clean images and, I'm too old (and probably you too) for the JBs.

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PPS - I feel very cynical right now.

Son of a bitch!

Alright, so I love that my friends support my writing - or my attempting. But recently I ran into a problem. I'm searching for a roommate right now, and in corresponding with potentials I learned that one of them was able to google my real name (shocker! not Penny Sumner, apparently there is a real one who is a writer, like published, and stuff, the real deal - I am not) and found this blog!! So I'm thinking, NOOOOOOOOOOO! Because that means anyone looking for me can find this, and I don't know if I want that.

Examples including, but not limited to:

- Past, present and future employers/coworkers
- Ex-roommates
- Family members
- Scorned lovers
- the FBI/CIA/China, though I'm fairly certain they're watching as I type this right now, so it doesn't really matter, they're gonna get me one of these days for my subversive actions - a-what? I don't know...

Anyway, so I turned it into password only, but I don't like to be so exclusive, I'd rather be reclusive and elusive. Another friend told me I could tell google to take it off, clear a cache, or something - how do you do this?! I don't know. It would be nice to share my writing with future employers, if it were always appropriate - but alas, it is/I am not. Predicament!!

Music and funny stuff to come later in the day... merh merh merh!

Someone to Watch over Me

Oh! So, last night - I'm always talking about going to bed - I was lying there, gettin' real sleepy. Ready to call it a night, then there was this flash of light that tickled my eyelids and I realized that I hadn't set my alarm clock. So, I got up and did that. Thinking, ooooh, I have an angel watching over me, but then I realized it's the Perseid meteor shower time... and maybe there was just a really bright one that penetrated the bright city night. Regardless, I woke up an hour late this morning. First it was 30 minutes, then I closed my eyes for a second and it was 7 o'clock. Shit! Rush, rush, rush. Only 15 minutes late to work. No biggie.

This is boring so far. Whoop-de-do.

What's in the news? People are dying. Babies are crying. The Olympians are winning medals or losing dreams.

I don't want to be at work. This is a current trend.

I have to pee. My bladder is shrinking.

Yesterday I went for a 12-miler. On the first leg of the run, moving towards the lake, it was brutal. My right shin was especially strained - tight. Uncomfortable, I was. I started running, then the pain became too overwhelming, I would curse. Stop, untie and retie the laces, and try again. I wonder what the people driving by as they saw me, "Fuck! Shit! Come on!!! Seriously?! Just run!" yeah, they probably just thought another Chicago schizo, no biggie. After about 10 minutes of running and 15 minutes of untying/retying, walking/stretching anger, everything was gravy, laces laced and runner ready. I zoomed and padded down the lakefront path with a smile spread across my face. I just wanted to run. Such a beautiful day, too!

Ooh! And everyone runs so fast along there. Especially between North and Belmont. It's distracting because I don't like when people I don't think should pass me do, and then I want to go faster, but then I have to remind myself that they're probably only doing 3... just to make myself feel better, and all.

Mmm.

Feel Like Dancin'?!

I know I do!

Listening to: Walter Meego, and if you go to the website, http://www.waltermeego.com/ you can fly through space and click to learn more. Oooh! It's fun. You can change the background, too! Walter Meego is occasionally played on Ugly Betty and is influenced by everything from The Beatles and other awesome oldies to Nirvana and other crazy 90s music, alternative to dance-dance-dancey. WOW!


Also, Cut Copy rocks me right. Stupid Napster only allows 30 seconds of a couple seemingly cool songs, so boo! But other than that, awesome.


And, VHS or Beta really makes me dancey. It all started with Night on Fire and went from there.

I JUST WANT TO DANCE!
dance (dance dance dance dance)
YES!

I like folk music

I wish I could remember all the things I thought about as I walked to work this morning. They were prolific and made me feel like I was going to get something accomplished today. Well, now I'm in the office and the feeling has worn off. My soul is sucked dry and it's only 11:30 on a Monday. Merh! Such has become my life, only because I let it. Talk to me at 5, and my opinions might've shifted - let's hope so.

I think I'm turning into a mean person. I don't mean to, but lately I feel like I've been rude/mean more often than not. I have no excuses for this.

Right now I'm reading this manifesto. I picked it up this past Fall in my college bookstore. A plain white book. Opened it up and it got straight to the point. Nestled inside was a red page with the same info as in the "manifesto" link above. I'm less than half-way through. I love it and then I hate it. The sentences make me cringe and break my heart. It's completely relatable, especially at this point in my life where I feel unsure of my actions. Am I doing the right thing? Am I doing enough? Am I setting myself up for success or complete failure? Where am I going? What am I doing? What's it all for? Who? Why? What else would I be doing? I want to travel overseas. I don't even have a passport. I want someone to take a chance on me. I need to take a chance. I feel very unsure with life choices right now.

I got old and restless. I had a sense of responsibility to develop. I had to respect my health.
I was romantic. I wanted to see the world. My life was dead. I wanted out. I wanted to live other lives, to live in a village in Mongolia, to see people that talked different, looked different, to walk in landscapes, to see what trees and fields looked like. I wanted to live in cities, to see traffic, hear loud voices, jackhammers pounding. I wanted to spend nights under bridges everywhere in America, not to have proper supplies, money for food, to walk on a roadside under hot sun and kick the dry filters of cigarettes. I wanted to go to other countries, to be in danger, unprepared, ignorant. I wanted to see what there was on this and every other planet.
....
On a damp and drear late afternoon in Idaho I huddled my knees and hugged myself below the crest of a hill. I said: "Fucking Idaho."

It's made for twenty somethings. As is this album. Neil Young. Mmm.

Lunchtime.

I just found this, things to think about... and I like it. Especially this drawing doodle.

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Oh. And I had a friend over last night and we were listening to music and laughing and she said, in a semi-accusatory tone, "You really like folk music." And I said "excuse me?" And she repeated herself. Then I almost got defensive about it, but then I said, "I do. It's good. I like music with stories, and folk is usually good for that. You better not be judging me, I like a lot of other music, too." (this is paraphrased, of course.)

The Man. The Legend. The Walken.

Christopher Walken, he's got it. I respect the hell outta this man.

I love this quote from the biography section:

"I posed naked snuggling with two cats for a series of calendar pictures which were a big success. I haven't seen those pictures in a long, long time, but I remember doing it -- and I've always wondered what kind of cats those were. Finally, I've just accepted that they were just cats and I'll never know what kind."

And this picture is fun!

Little Ronnie Walken. Ronnie, that's right! He's a Renaissance man of sorts, and I give props to the fan who created the site for all things Walken. Wonderful!!

I do believe that I need to see The Deer Hunter, as I never have. Also, not including Christopher Walken, but along the lines of a crazy 70s classic, Deliverance. I like that leather vest on Mr. Reynolds. Also, HA! I found this picture when I first googled "Burt Reynolds" -- geez louise! Mmm, yeah. I'd like to be that rug. Oh my! You too?

Wind Resistance

I dig it, and you may too.

Super saucy. Makes me want to put on a white dress and espadrilles and go dancing outside under some colorful lights, in humidity (is it humid in Brazil?).

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Again, back to last night. I was thinking about how I would've savored my last semester differently. I tried to, tried to soak it all in, make it different... and it was, it felt like I was hanging on to the same thing of semesters and years past, but this time it held an inevitable change at the end of the course load. It was bittersweet when it was over. I'm still torn and still yearn.

.

[8-8-08: It was amazing though, that extra semester. Honestly, it was a great time. In the end it made me want to leave more than I wanted to stay, possibly due to the fact that it was wintertime in mid-Missouri and I was burnt out from partyin' and procrastination, ready to explore the world... From the August house party with the excited freshman exclaiming that he loves college - a baby of 18 making me feel old, old, old - to my final round of finals running on caffeine, adderoll and the knowledge that it will all be over too soon, I cried during my financial planning final from lack of sleep, knowledge and fear that I might have to re-take another number course. I passed. I still procrastinated, after 4 full years of college I was a champ. I loved being surrounded by people my age, strolling through the sprawling campus, running around the track and through the woods. I walked everywhere, or rode my bike, or relied on friends if it was too far since I sold my car the previous summer to afford living in Chicago on an unpaid internship and a meager paycheck from serving. The constant partying, especially Wednesday through Tuesday. People converging on downtown as the sky light dims and the street lamps shine on. I'm smiling. And I guess I am sad that it's over, but glad that it happened. The people I met, the things I did and saw shaped me, and will stay with me. Oh, and also, that August night house party, when my friend and I were leaving at around 3:30a, walking through East Campus, up our old street, an older Asian gentleman approached us with his hands clasped behind his back. I must admit I was a little afraid as I didn't know what he had concealed, but he said, "Excuse me" and asked us for our "company" - oh sir, oh sir! Are you propositioning us?! We're college seniors, not prostitutes, you want 3 streets over... those Steven's girls are sluts. It was weird, obvi - do you hate it that I shortened it like that? I used to, too, but not I think it's fun. Say it out loud. Do it. Say it. "Obvi." Fun, right? Right. You love it. Take it on as your own. Go ahead. It's okay.]

What I wrote in the darkness as I was trying to fall asleep with Heart's "Crazy on You" stuck in my head (it was on the radio when I made sure the alarm volume would be loud enough - 3 seconds and it stuck), surprising legible as well --

bird's nest:

fall, flap,

wind resistance.

learn how to

fly

on your own,

you'll get it

eventually.

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PS - I've been slightly distracted, and I don't want to say depressed, but depressed, this week what with the expensive move up the street (no bad roomie anymore!!), roommate interviews, no work at work, and lots of things expected of myself from myself, family/friends and billing institutions. So apologies for that as I dust the dirt off my ass and prepare to climb back in the saddle of life - just give me a minute to catch my breath. Shit! The horse is starting to run off.

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And this Scott Tuma song is a good winding down lullaby of a song.

High-Wire Walking

Super crazy and seemingly exhilarating, I'm stoked to catch Man on Wire! Hopefully soon, too, though I have about $50 worth of movies I want to see. Not that many - 4 or 5, this city is just expensive when it comes to... oh! everything!

i was born here in the city, but my back wasn't against the wall

I've really started to enjoy The Eagles and Steeley Dan a lot more over the past few months to year. I'm just saying. That was it. Just so you know. It's good stuff, always makes me hum and smile, sometimes snap, too, and sway my hips, and tap my feet.

Pieces of Advice

Last night as I was laying in bed I thought about where I am right now, where I've been and where I'm going. I thought about the people and the places that occupy my past. Specifically college stuck in my mind, and how truly awesome and care-free it was. You never know how good you have it, until you don't have it anymore. Ain't that the truth!!

I miss college. Thank God I still have my youth. [Ooh! I just choked on that coffee swallow!]

On the last day of my internship at Chicago Dramatists last summer the bosses took me and another itern, who's last day it was too, out to lunch. We got to talking about this, that and the other thing - as you usually do in conversations. As we waited for the check and let our food digest I asked each boss for a piece of advice they wish they would've known at 22 but didn't find out until later.

Here's what they said:

-- I wish that I knew what I know now... no, no, no, wait - that's Rod Stewart and The Faces.

1. If you want something you have to do it. There's no waiting around for someone to fill up your plate. You control your own destiny, your own path. Go out and blaze a trail, or just grab the bull by its balls.

2. Always pay your bills(!), esp. student loans(!), on time!! Even if you can't pay the full balance, something is better than nothing.

3. Take a financial planning class, and budget!! This makes it much easier to be a trail blazer when you have funds to get you places where you aren't already.

-----

Simple pieces of advice, yes, but good nonetheless.

Also, I don't know if I wrote about this before, but I remember after a drive to LBI I woke up from my car ride nap to my father singing Doris Day's "Que Sera, Sera" and it's probably my favorite memory of him from growing up. Because after he noticed I woke up he turned around and smiled as he sang, Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera. What will be, will be.

Totally unrelated, but here are some interesting "in the moment" pictures.