priceless 

A catch 22 between heroin and happiness

or Ray.

I finally got around to renting Ray and was blown away. The movie really brings up a good point that drugs like heroin have inspired change from the norms of society that would not have come about with straight-laced gospel or R+B. It feels like it must be a mind-changing experience and something that truly inspires an alternate direction of thought. It starts making sense when put into context of other heavy drug users. Both Bob Dylan and Hunter S. Thomson were heavy into the stuff and both had magical periods of creativity that changed societys norms and most likely would not have come about without these alternate directions of thought. And both Bob Dylan and Hunter S. Thomson talk in interviews later in life about these magical periods and that neither of them can possibly recreate. Isn't it ironic it falls in line with both of the them cleaning up their acts. This whole blog is written with a tinge of melancholy because it makes me think that without heavy drug use the alternative direction of thought seems to be a locked door. It makes me think of how the slip into self-destruction is like a deal with the devil for creativity. Just like Ralph Machio learns in the movie Crossroads,with every step forward your always going to take a hit.

wah wah wah schmidlap's the name and I declare this party awesome

The party was a smashing success and was a throwback to the days of planning partys at 309 E Healey and bringing in giant snocone machines and bags of cotton candy. I guess its a little conceited to call your own party awesome but watcha gonna do Bout It. Everything went off without a hitch except for the surprise part. In the words of the boss, I would have been there on time to warn everyone but I had to dress and feed people at my place. Ole Nick and his 14 person indie wicker park stroller. From that low point the party progressed into the perfect balance of intellectual conversation and mind numbing booze.

Magical moments include:

-Will being wrapped like a mummy and for some reason still smoking a cigarette(whoosh-human torch denied bank loan).

-long jump rope competitions with pearls in which we got bryce kelly and gary all jumping to the same uncoordinated beat.

-planned and understood schneider music takeover with an entire beatles album and everyone screaming the lyrics. I guess that equals success for musical coup. In the words of Dan, "hey the room was cleared out, it needed a little motivation."

-Long walk to flash taco to get a taco salad, eat two bites feel sick and taxi it home. While riding after I said Fullerton and Western the cabby continued to go south down Damen to which I was like where's the beef. I guess in my slurred state he thought I said Fulton. Me, misunderstood, preposterous.



Thanks for everyone the came and boo-urns to everyone who didn't

A little taste of my own medicine

These past two years at UofC I jockied into the position of music tyrant and i have jamboxes in every room forcing everyone I work with to become part of the swab-the-decks crew of the vessel sailing the seas of sad bastard. Owen yup. Pedro the lion ,shut your yapper this is sad, yes. Belle and Sebastian, kings of the sadness tour, yeah.

Today things worked a little differently. I walk into lab with a few cd's, one being the first sea and cake ready to expel musical notes to carry my every muscle and joint into harmony. This morning, however, 93.9 was blasting to which I believe a coup d'etat. Lets just say the light was on but no one was 97.1 driving. First one to send shivers down my spine was, "lets hear it for the boys." I felt like I was stuck at a cubs opener or maybe a soccer mom prep music mix tape to cut oranges to.

I need a parachute or at least a titantic escape boat.

"I can feel you breathing, I can feel da da da insert high note"

I'm not sure who thats by, melissa etheridge or something. But I've lost I'm reduced to nothing. That single incident has turned me into the stapler guy from Office Space. I might as well be in the basement without the LIGHT on.

But then right there in my darkest hour, Imagine came on. I was cold shivering in fetal position and opened my eyes for the first time since my plunge into the abyss. I began to question everything under the sun. Were dogs and cats now friends, is there peace suddenly in Iraq, does bush read at a fifth grade level? All questions that began pacing through my head. And no religion too.

Point me towards "GO!"

It feels like its taking forever to get around the monopoly board today. Its not as if my silver car is going slow its just that the distance seems much farther.

I gave a presentation at work today and I got here early enough to catch the custodians arriving. Its so bizarre to watch opposite worlds begin their day. People who you know have a crappier lot in life. Some with makeup half on others with sweat pants a little too low(not to mention a huge picture of fat albert on the caboose). All in a zombie like state sort of swaying from side to side beginning to jump on the meat grinder for another oz of life to get squeezed out.

Getting back to Monopoly, that was one of my favorite childhood games. There is something about stacking up red hotels on those two cheap purple properties that got me excited. Way back when Mike,Kevin,I used to play the game weekly. Kevin used to play about half the game and then give his money to charity. I think I may have something here. Kevin is studying political science right now in Brussels and wants to give back to the community(or so much as I've come to the conclusion of). Mike and I on the otherhand got way into flea markets and collectables during those early years. Mike and I continued to play this game into highschool as Kevin drifted away bringing newbies like Doug Stepina and Erin Demski into the realm. One time Doug farted while the four of us were playing and nobody said anything. It just created an awkward silence that would have been ignored during my younger younger years. Those were some pretty carefree days.

I am the last one

So in the words of Sean Connery from the mouth of a dragon, I describe the current blogless nation caused by spring breakers Y2K05. Don't get me wrong I love 90210 the college years, ie D B G and E, but I also thoroughly enjoy rehab Voss trying to get himself out of a rock and the hard place he calls his boss. In addition I need updates of Kit and his hatred for Prunes as well as Will and his political ramble of the week(well the guardian says that...). So I sit here on a fine St. Paddy's day with snowflakes the size of cottonballs and wonder how nice it would be to be sitting in a hole you dug yourself in the sand and just waiting for your next freezie pop watching the tide go out and come back. That beckons me back to Destin 03' and Pip getting creeped out by someone being so nice saying please and thank you as well as nick stealing a beer coozie from a surf shop and me making him return it to pay his 25 cents. Pip puking in the street and Nick imitating him for the whole bar to watch. Beach frisbee and stomach drops on the sand, dolphin heads and Yuri saying "tommy you're stupid." They weren't all good times though. Like when I destroyed Pips MP3 player all in the name of sand wrestling and when Nick was having a smoke next to the gas pump, with a little slo-mo camera turn to Nick flicking his cig into the middle console at the gas station(to which I thought we were in the making of T4. All this 03' nostalgia beckons me back to Destin 00' when Freshmen Kit and Jeff tromp down to the panhandle listening to Micheal Chreiton's Timeline and spending a night in a dormroom in SIU. Fast forward a scene to the beach and you have kit inside beach chair box holding a football, piercing our ears(whats this Dawesons Creek, no we didn't pacie freeze our hair as well) in Panama city, visiting the Truman Show town and driving around in circles, and finally and most triumphantly purchasing our first beer bong. Mr Elam coming to our little beach house and saying "beer man" in the typical mendota voice and seeing 12 silver sodas(coorslight) staring at us. Getting goofy by the docks and driving back for what seemed like 100's of miles with 12 waffle houses and Rocky Racoon on repeat. That was origin, throw in some shuffle board and me getting burnt to a chrisp and you have yourself a novel.

Green Afternoon Delight

Yesterday I went to the South Side Irish Parade for the first time and felt like I was transported to some sort of Great America ride line meets Oktoberfest booze party. Although I was the designated driver, I had a few bouncies while I was there and really enjoyed hanging out in alleyways with everyone from Bagpipers to ravers. Quick note, bouncies are a name for those 16 oz plastic MGD beer bottles that look hilarious and are big enough to have a place at Pee Wee's breakfast table.

Hightlights from the day in no particular order include:

1.) leprechaun in a giant size hampster ball rolling through the parade mixing the super crawl with the stand, lets take this one around, Marquise de Sade pose, and back to the super crawl. It reminded me of Mrs. Vanhautens boyfriend from gladiators.
2.) Observing two Whirleyball regulars in full north face attire telling Rochelle that there was a secret bar going on in the laundry room of a houses close to the parade. Kudos to Sarah for finding the error in logic and pulling Roch away from the walking hardons.
3.) Finding a parking spot within 1 block of the parade, doing 5 irish carbombs on my hood, and watching as an 85 year old grannie in nightie looked at us suspiciously from her front door. Those kids are about to slack at any minute!
4.) Laying in an alleyway alla the movie GO, watching a group of leprechauns scale a wall, getting a bagpiper to cater to our needs of a jig, and finally a mysterious coconut rum man, aka walking party, dealing out shots like it was jose quervo beach bonanza.
5.) Car-ride home with 7 drunk mickeys in a 5 person car, jamming Kelly Clarkson(wait a minute this is my lowlight of the day) and swearing we'd never had a better afternoon.

Plans for next year, camping out over night, buying a porta-john, and clearing the next week of work for recovery.

where have all the ducks gone...

I've been in a cave trying to come back to reality the past week and each time I do I trip over garbage from my condo. Am I doomed to the same fate as my father with briefcase after briefase of notes comprising half of the entire basement and not to mention a fully functional garage attic coming soon? Can I consciously backout of this already genetic disposition. I don't understand how my brother and sister can both be super organized and anal about their stuff whereas my filing cabinet is a cardboard box next to the couch comprising blank cd holders,old ink cartridges,bills, and a user manual for a heart-shape waffle maker. Maybe its on the Y cromosome and my mom had a fragile X or something for me whereas my sibs got the compensation needed. I guess the only option is to evolve. I don't mean to grow wings, which by the way would be sweet, but to live,learn,and adapt. I've peeked into what could be while mixing the new Darling CD, while circling Gary's organ. His office, although quite chaotic, seems to be messy but managable which seems to be my lot in life. I guess everytime I could organize things, the sun is shining, drinking a coke, wearing aviators, and telling my to do cartwheels down the street. Whereas the moon in T2 shades(like the suns but metalic and evil) tells me to watch twilight zone and play the guitar(KEEP ON GAMING). Possessions in my mind are time consumers and in the words of Neock Rivers(dans new nickyname after recent concert exposure), "people are what matter, always keep that in mind." This reminds me of one time I watched fight club with Tees and it came to the part where the main character states, "Sometimes your possessions begin to own you." Tees turns to me and goes, "man thats true." This is no insult to Tees as he was one of the best roommates I've ever had but he did have the remoter control light dimmers, 6 foot tall subwoofer(for those movies where you need a little extra bass obvious), and 250 DVDS. My advice for anyone is to find a good outlet for your mind guitar/piano/harmonica/journal and to throw everything else away.


INOTHERNEWS

It seems crazy to me in this fast pace world that there is a journalist movement against blogs. At least that is what it said on the news last night, claiming that millions of people are writing opinions of other people without citation. WHERE IS THE CITATIONS! Kind of sounds like some people have been institutionalized. Like old Brooks with his Sparrow and book cart. However, sometimes on the rare occasion you end up with the blournalist, someone like Pip who majored in communications, loves(d) journalism, and is the one of the most avid blogger I've ever come across aside from Q who almost burnt out last week(pace pace pace you newbie).

Q, I didn't know your dad was in a band 

Orphan boats,unicorn pens, and school

So I've been having a lot of weird dreams lately and maybe its due to raised stress levels and misfortunate tow jobs. Last week apparantly I woke up screaming "Man that Hirschs(like hurts)" I was supposed to interview with a professor at Northwestern name Emmitt Hirsch but at the last minute got switched. Coincidance, probably, but maybe it could be a one way avenue into a town not on any maps, known only to its inhabitants as the twilight zone. Two nights ago I had a dream that I was at Kelly and Gary's and there was a cockroach the size of an armadillo in the living room. I was pretty freaked out about it. In addition The unicorns were recording the new PST album and they had a picked fence around the mix boards where Dan was hanging out with them. The cover of the album was the worst part, it was of PST smiling from behind the mother board. As Gary said last night at blows, that's very strange. What's even weirder is that Gary actually found a huge cockroach in his apartment and it actually hissed. There is an explanation here, apparently fear factor has increased sales at local pet shops for hissing cockroachs. Then last night I had a dream about being on an orphan boat the size of the titantic and pulling in to shore only to get turned away. Maybe it had something to do with Nick and I singing "Consider Yourself a Mate" Funny how I still know all the lines after only viewing it in 8th grade music class. I guess our class just got into it. In addition to the orphan boat, I was in charge of parking cars.? I totally fender bended the bumper off of one car and then broke the front headlight of another car. I know I'm a terrible driver in real life but in this dream, they didn't care that I messed up the cars, they said "it happens to everyone now don't worry about it." That was the confusing part and probably when I woke up. Its interesting to see the evolution of passengers in my car. 5 years ago Will was freaked out to be in a car with me. About a year later he was calm and collected. He said that he's driven with me so much that he doesn't expect danger anymore with my unblemished record. I still give newbies a bit of a few curly hairs(ie marge after she's given birth) but I think my track record stands for itself.

So I got into grad school at U of C and thus enters me back into student status for the next 5 years at least. I cling to being a student like a man with a combover clings to his surviving hairs. I certainly won't feel as guilty at the movie theatres anymore what with using my staff ID and trying to pass it off as an undergraduate ID. I won't walk down the halls of UofC anymore looking at cheap-student flights to Europe with apathy. 299$ round trip, man that'd be great, oh I have to be enrolled, sorry to waste your time, I'll go back to my hamster wheel.