Elvis Presley Blues

This is addictive, and I really enjoy reading all the comments. It's things like this, along with my affinity for audio commentaries and tests, etc., that make me a nerd and talk about things that no one cares about. Speaking of talking, the past two nights have been extraordinarily fun for me. I was pretty intoxicated for both, spent time with good groups of people, and was highly amused and entertained for the entirety of both. But, to bring in the talking part, there are a lot of instances where I become a talkative drunk, but man alive! have I been a really talkative drunk as of late. So if you're out with me and this happens and I'm blathering on, just tell me to can it.

I finished Let It Be by Colin Meloy today and am now very sad that it's done. I really liked reading it, first because of my obsession with Colin Meloy, but for other reasons as well. It is a collection of memories from his formative years with music, specifically the album Let It Be by the Replacements. When I first read about this book (it is in the 33 1/3 series, which includes other musicians writing about other albums), I assumed it would consist mostly of review-type of material, i.e. this is what happens in this track and this is why it is so great and/or important, listen to this guitar solo and let me recount the technical aspects of it that makes it so kick-ass, etc. Really, it is a sort-of memoir of this specific period of his youth, which was spent with the Replacements and other bands used as the soundtrack. It was also interesting to read in that it brought in elements and reminded me of two other books I've recently read, Liars and Saints by Maile Meloy (Colin's sister) and Killing Yourself to Live by Chuck Klosterman. LandS is a novel and it is very interesting to trace the inspiration (seemingly) behind some aspects of the book with the author's childhood. Killing Yourself to Live chronicles Klosterman's trip to sites of musicians' deaths around the country, but it mostly the writer musing on the music and women in his life. I will try to start another book either tonight or tomorrow, but I will continue to mourn the loss of Colin Meloy's narrative.


Roy Walker

About a month ago I started taking Zoloft. I haven't noticed any difference yet, but here's the thing: what am I supposed to notice exactly? I'm not sure I understand how it's going to work, and by it I'm referring to living without depression/obsessive compulsive disorder. What will it be like exactly? This notion of living "normally" doesn't really make sense to me. I have noticed that for awhile now, whenever I have an "episode", I feel increasingly detached from it. It used to be that whenever I was down, I couldn't really picture being up, but if I was up, I could always picture being down. Now, I still can't do up when I'm down, but I also can't really remember what it's truly like being down when I'm up. This morning I woke up and it took me a minute to even remember that I was down at the very end of last night. I'm not sure if this is a good or a bad thing. I do know that this is just me rambling, so I'll stop and continue reading Let It Be by Colin Meloy and imagine the day when I'll call him my good friend and maybe we'll have a book club or I'll come over to his house and he'll try out new songs for me or we'll just hang out watching Bosom Buddies and music videos, and we'll both know that if the world was more fair and I was a bit older (or he a bit younger) and we had met years before that day, everything would be right in the world. [insert tee hee here].


If You're Feeling Sinister

I watched this video about ghosts last night and proceeded to freak myself out a bit. It doesn't take much to make me scared, and once I am, every frightening thing that I've ever seen, heard about, or imagined runs through my head and doesn't stop (I have little to no control over what goes on up there). One summer I was living with my mom and slept in the basement every night since the most comfortable bed was down there and also since my mom pretty much refuses to use air conditioning unless a warning for heat stroke has been broadcast. This was while I was still dating huge douchebag, and we would call each other pretty much every night since he lived in the next state over. So I would end up kind of scared right before going to sleep since I was in the basement, which while it is a completely finished basement is still kind of eerie, dark, and makes noises. One particular night there had been a South Park Halloween marathon on Comedy Central. This is how much of a pussy I am. Halloween South Park episodes scared me. And I never learn, because I still watch scary movies and listen to ghost stories and everything. It's kind of like being at Great America when I'll be very excited to go on some rides, then, right when the big drop is coming I end up saying, "Oh shit, this wasn't a good idea." The only difference is that Oh shit moment lasts for a couple nanoseconds, whereas being scared from a movie lasts hours. The summer that I was living with huge douchebag provides a good illustration. I had never seen Candyman. When he learned this fact, he insisted that we watch the film that night. I insisted that we shouldn't since it was already night and I prefer to watch these types of movies during the day, so at least there's a buffering zone of daylight. But we watched it in his room, and really it's not that frightening a film, but as I said before, I've been scared by South Park. The worst part was that immediately after the movie ended, I really had to pee. The bathroom in his university-run-kind-of-like-a-townhouse-apartment looks almost exactly like the bathrooms in Cabrini-Green as portrayed in the movie. I've never wanted to pee so fast in my life. When I got over this hurdle, I told huge douchebag, "Look, you made me watch this movie, you should stay up with me so that I'm not scared." He fell asleep pretty much immediately and I stayed up for another couple of hours trying to convince myself that the noises I was hearing were not sinister. I don't like being scared. And you know the funniest/sickest thing? I want to watch that ghost video again.


Gay Pride and Terrible '80s Songs

I'm listening to Heart's "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" and I'm thinking 'Wow, this takes me back to being a kid living in Oak Lawn with 100.3 or some other adult contemporary rock station playing through the house', which is a fairly pleasant thought, but then I started actually listening to the song and especially the lyrics. This is a truly horrible song. Oh, Heart, Dreamboat Annie is such a good album! What happened?! Sigh.

In better news, I walked in the Gay Pride Parade this weekend in Chicago, which was a lot of fun. I walked as a former employee of Starbucks. Our float was near the very end of the parade, though, so it began as a lot of standing around in the rain (which later cleared up and it was quite a nice day). My friends and I walked up and down Halsted a bit after growing bored with the waiting and collected much free stuff, including beads (one of which I earned), pins (one of which was a 'Kiss Me I'm Irish' button that lit up), and stickers (one of which was a 'Kiss Me Here' sticker that I promptly placed on my right breast. Sadly I received only one kiss all day, which was a pity kiss from a lesbian after another lesbian kissed my friend's sticker--on her right breast. Really, these kissing pins and stickers should be enforced more), etc. When we finally started walking in the parade, we had little packets of free coffee to give away. This soon proved to be both a blessing and a curse. The blessing was that almost everyone loved us and were cheering us loudly. The curse was that they also pretty much mobbed us. You'd think we were giving out crack. People are fucking insane; some grabbed it out of our hands, yelled at us if they didn't get any, flashed for coffee, et al. All in all, it was a fun weekend (except for a bit on Saturday night when I ended up in a parking lot somewhere in the vicinity of Diversey and Clark, which we won't discuss) and a very interesting experience. And I've learned even more now than I knew before that people go cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs...and coffee.


Ma Vie En Rose

Okay, anyone who wants to be my best friend and make me smile widely until my jaw is sore: there's a book by Mark Z. Danielewski called The Fifty Year Sword. Apparently there are five colors used throughout on quotation marks which indicates what character is speaking. There were only 1000 copies released. 50 of these are signed with a "Z" in one of the five colors and first copy has "MZD" written in ink. I want one. There are a couple of copies being sold on Amazon for about $170 and one on ebay for $89. I'm severely tempted to spend money that I shouldn't. In other Mark Z. Danielewski news, there are open auditions to read parts of his upcoming novel, Only Revolutions. There's going to be an audio project which coincides with the release of the hardcover on September 12th (Peter Scolari's birthday!) and you may be chosen as the voice of one of the characters. [Insert transition here] The little light behind the screen on the radio in my car that allows me to see what station is playing went out a couple months ago. Yesterday, it reappeared. Welcome back little light.



I received an e-mail today addressing me as Professor, which made me laugh, to tell me about the "clicker revolution". It also made me think of the debate of correct terminology, which often comes down to a Northern Illinois vs. Southern (or Central, which is really Southern) Illinois. For instance, do you call it a clicker or a remote? Clicker. Is it pop or soda? Pop. Cardinals or Cubs? Cubs. Although I find it interesting that it's very rare to find a White Sox fan anywhere South of I-80. I got a knock on my door this morning, which was pretty eventful since it is a very rare occasion, and was delivered my copy of Colin Meloy's book on The Replacement's Let It Be. Woot! There was just a clap of thunder that lasted for almost a minute; my first thought: awesome. And, I've learned that Sufjan Stevens is going to be at the Metro on my birthday. So that's a nice gift.



Woot!! In August, I'll be driving cross country with my mom to California. I'm thinking that only one of us will make it back alive. But, I'm going to see Death Cab for Cutie at Berkeley!!! (Jumping up and down)! I now have a pair of not-fucking-around-headphones. Much to my dismay, on my way out the door this morning and on my way to the gym, I discovered my headphones had gone kaput. So I went to campus via Best Buy and picked up some heavy duty new headphones. This is my excitement thus far today. Will more be in store when I watch Colin Firth for 5 hours? We will see.
song recommendation of the moment: "Tell Her This" by Del Amitri
book recommendation of the moment: The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
TV recommendation of the moment: House
movie recommendation of the moment: Twelve Angry Men


You Can Solve All Your Problems By Freezing Them!

I just had lunch in Subway with Bonnie and Angela and happened upon two blog-worthy events. The first: I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman Sound-Alike. He was leaving as we were in line and we exchanged hellos, with mine being "Hey Philip Seymour Hoffman!" Then, there's a guy working there who looks like Ben Gibbard. And I realize I make that connection with a number of people, but this guy really does and he said that other people have told him this as well. The downfall is he also looks to be about sixteen. But he looks like Ben Gibbard! I should go to Subway more often. In other news, and in terms of something I've been trying to do for a while now, I'm announcing that I'm throwing in the towel. Sigh.


Mercedes Benz

I've discovered something incredibly fun today. If you are in an elevator, spin around on one foot when you first start to ascend. Just try it, it's really great. Also, I found someone whose voice sounds a lot like that of Philip Seymour Hoffman. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Has anyone ever told you that you sound a lot like Philip Seymour Hoffman?
Philip Seymour Hoffman sound-alike: I don't know who that is.
Me: He's an actor; he just won an Oscar for Capote.
PSHS-A: Oh, I do know him. No, I've never heard that before (looks at me strangely).
Me: (Somewhat sheepishly) Oh, I just thought I'd let you know.

I saw A Prairie Home Companion last night, which I enjoyed and would compare to Nashville if I could say that I've seen Nashville. The best part of the evening, though would have to be the preview for Little Miss Sunshine. On its own it looks like a tender and hilarious film and I am a fan of most every actor involved, but the trailer contained both the Flaming Lips' "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" and Sufjan Steven's "Chicago". Now, I would run out and see Deuce Bigalow: Antarctic Gigolo on opening night if said film had these songs in its trailer. So, I'm eagerly anticipating the release of Little Miss Sunshine.


(This Is) The Dream of Evan and Chan

"I won't let go, I won't let go
even if you say so, oh no.
I've tried and tried with no results.
I won't let go, I won't let go."

There was an angel on the wall,
the one I wanted to buy as
she and I were driving away,
and in my dream you were
in that bar with me as we
discussed the merits of nationality.
But when I opened my eyes,
the angel became a poster
advertising Fat Tire and there
were killjoys on the stools next to me.
I can't avoid telling them
about the other night
and my plans to get better.
I stumbled out and fell
asleep, awoke in a tree
outside your window.
And I could see everything;
Closed my eyes to picture
me in that room with you
and became dizzy when I
felt myself falling back,
thinking before I hit the ground
that I could hear you
calling me.


You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel.

What I've learned today:
1) I'm horribly out of practice for bowling; this should be remedied.
2) I should not try to bowl while the video for "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" is playing above the lane since I don't pick up the spare and miss part of the video.
3) Dekalb has an arboretum that's actually a pretty nice place that I should go back to sometime soon.
4) One of the episodes of Scrubs (2nd season) has a fantastic Breakfast Club reference that makes me laugh very much.



Most of my day today was spent in cleaning and putting stuff away in my apartment. I've been meaning to clean for a long while now and it's finally done. I also took the extra step of pretty much organizing almost everything I own, so now most things pretty much have their place. I moved here at the end of June last summer; today is the first day everything has been put away. When I walked in my door a couple of minutes ago it was pretty strange, what with all the cleanliness and space and such. I like it. And while doing this today I wore one of the bras I recently purchased which was somewhat exciting since it hooks in the front and this is my first experience with such a device. I'm telling you, my existence is non-stop action. I recommend the new video for Death Cab For Cutie's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark". Go forth and watch.


Human Behavior

I can finally scratch Annie Hall off of my list of movies-to-see. And I must say that I was a little disappointed with the film, mostly because of its being lauded so heartily by most film critics and associations. I watched Manhattan earlier this year and enjoyed it more. From what I understand, most people fell in love with Diane Keaton and her title character after watching it, but to me she was on the border of almost-excruciatingly-annoying. And while Woody Allen almost always plays the anti-hero, he's usually the somewhat likable anti-hero. I didn't feel especially attached or compassionate for either of the two lovers and found myself not really caring about any of their triumphs, troubles or tribulations. I recognize that none of this is necessary for a great film, and I appreciate Allen's innovative (though I cannot confidently say that I know enough of film history to comment on the degree of originality) style, though the very direct style of narration felt a tad uneven. I'm not sure where Annie Hall should be placed in the lists of great films; all I can say is that it's not my favorite Woody Allen film (having seen a whopping 5 of them). That's my first response anyway. I was also finally able to see Death Cab for Cutie's appearance on the O.C. I looked up which episode they were on and then ordered disc 7 of the second season from Netflix. Not it. Ordered disc 6. Not it. Ordered disc 5. Woot for Death Cab for Cutie! Except that it was very brief (which I knew going in, but I still hoped against all hope) and splintered by scenes with annoying O.C. people and melodrama. I can't really speak of the quality of the show since I've never seen an episode, but I think my inability to watch more than the bits around DCFC's performance speaks for itself. And whoever directed that particular episode really doesn't know how to present a live band. In keeping with DVDs from Netflix which I requested for only a small amount of footage, I watched Sam Rockwell's deleted scene from Jarhead. I saw the film when it came out last October and while I liked it, my immediate reaction was: Sam Rockwell was left on the fucking cutting room floor! It is a small scene that really doesn't add much to the movie, but it's Sam Rockwell and he is fantastic.

In local news, there are technically three routes connecting the parking lot for my apartment building and the street, though one is a one-way entrance (the one-way-ness of this route is often ignored, which causes some disagreement when someone is entering at the same time of someone exiting). There is some sort of construction going on in the front of the building; I haven't investigated enough to determine what exactly) and so both two-way routes are closed off because the sidealk is ripped up. This makes for such a fun time of getting in and out of my parking lot that I just want to send a shout-out to the construction crew for their foresight and timeliness.


Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)

I may have been privy to the most number of utterly inane conversations today than any other day in recent memory. The ultimate gem occurred when I was waiting with a friend at the DMV and overheard a man and woman talking about a mutual acquaintance. "Is he still gay?" Tremendous. My friend and I then drove to Molly's (the only establishment in Dekalb that sells deep dish pizza, that I know of). So Molly's is in a strip mall on the corner of Annie Glidden and 38 (one of the two semi-busy streets in this town). One entrance to the parking lot is located maybe 50 feet (I'm truly horrible at estimating distances) from the traffic light. So, the turn is right before the turning lane for the light begins. A Jeep was in front of me and a Volvo behind me. The Volvo pulls up to my left to turn into the parking lot. I see this and brake accordingly so that I will turn in after him. Apparently the Jeep didn't notice any of this, pulls over to get in the turning lane for the light and hits the rear bumper of the Volvo, leaving part of said bumper on the street as a consequence (granted the Volvo was pretty much falling apart so maybe a stiff wind would have caused the same reaction). The best part of this whole thing: the Jeep simply pulled up to the light and proceeded to wait for a green arrow while the Volvo pulled into the parking lot. It seemed as if absolutely no one had noticed the whole accident. The guy in the Volvo pulled up to the front of Molly's, and then looked at his rear bumper and became quite angry. If he would've stopped immediately, he could've caught the Jeep guy, or at least written down the license plate number, but by the time he had fully become aware of the situation the Jeep had already turned. Ah, Dekalb. One more amusing thing that has happened today: I received my college's alumni magazine thingie today and found out that the first guy I kissed now has a kid. Strange.


El Scorcho

I'm feeling pretty proud of myself for buying some clothes today. It takes me an inordinate amount of time to find clothes that I like. I bought some underwear and bras and found that while the brand I had told me I was a 34C, these two new brands both congratulate me on actually being a 36C! As I've just recently adjusted to thinking of myself as somone who wears glasses (which I first started wearing my senior year of high school), it will take me some time to reconcile myself to wearing a 36C bra. Until that time, I'm milking it for all it's worth, no pun intended. And I now have perhaps the most colorful assortment of undergarments I have ever owned. In starting to clean and really organize my apartment I found film for my camera, exta toothbrushes, and extra floss, all of which I thought I had to buy. These were the exciting events of my day. Well, that and getting some drugs.


The Distance

I now have the internet! Woot!! And I have begun my music-downloading spree, which makes me very ecstatic. I once had a conversation with a couple of friends that posed the question of whether I would rather be deaf, blind, or never able to have sex again. I choose the sex one, because, as much of a good thing as it is, and as much as I enjoy now having access to a lot of porn, not being able to hear music or watch movies or enjoy any of the other pleasures to my senses of seeing and/or hearing would make me so supremely unhappy and very close to not being able to survive. Anyway, as I was driving today I passed what appeared to be a mother and pre-pubescent daughter taking a break from riding their bikes. The mother had a water bottle on a strap that was on her shoulder and the daughter was taking a drink from it, as it was still on the mother's shoulder. And the placement of the bottle on that strap, and the daughter leaning in to quench her thirst very much resembled breast feeding, which I thought was kind of amusing and interesting.

I finished Maile Meloy's Liars and Saints, which is very good and I recommend to all. It follows a family that has a pretty high level of dysfunction through several generations, and while some characters are more developed than others, each gets their own page time. I've noticed that both Maile and her brother Colin tend to use the term "half-light" quite a bit. I think one of the reasons I'm such a slow reader is that I'm always sad when I finish a book, and really sad when it's an especially good book. I get wrapped up in the world created by the author and don't want to leave it. Now I need to read The Phanton Tollbooth by Norton Juster, Persuasion by Jane Austen, and Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, perhaps I'll read them all at the same time.

Also, anyone who wants to start a spree of watching movies, give me a call.



I wrote a very interesting, clever, entertaining, brilliant blog earlier today, but of course it was lost to the voracious appetite of that internet monster Cannot Be Displayed. Let's see, the gist of it was that today has been a good day, for no real concrete reason and despite waking up late and finding that for the second day in a row my phone has decided to randomly set itself to roaming whilst in my apartment. That a note written in a preview for World Trade Center which states: I Heart U was irritating because of the use of U for you, but made me think that if someone should write such a note to me, it would go something like this: I Heart Hucka...you, because I would find that amusing and it would touch my heart of hearts since it contains a reference to a good film, then went on to reference the Simpsons and Johnny Dangerously. I stated that I'll be going to a screening of a long film tonight and wished that I will enjoy it and that my part as an extra will have been left on the cutting room floor. That being said, I now share a poem that's not very good at all, but at least a somewhat interesting experiment. I allowed myself to use only the words contained in one page of a magazine.

Page 21, Issue#842
Depression-era polished British gal
Wise-like but a college drop-out,
very forthright and very firmly out of his DNA
He never spawned contributions like this
Instead, he navigated an abandoned fiancee
the day he scaled his star,
caught between lies and politeness.