Back on defense, back in my zone, I eat rappers and go in my yard and bury they bones
Look, I know it’s been a while. I know that. I’m sorry. I said I’m sorry — what, you don’t believe me? Hey now. Let’s not say things we don’t mean. Oh yeah? Well you can stuff that in a sack, is what I’m saying, how about that?
I’ve been busy traveling! Seeing friends in other parts of the country! But — I don’t really have any pictures to show for it. Just a couple. That first one is of the New Museum in NYC. Cool building. The art, eh. I wasn’t feeling the exhibits.
Might as well show you the whole thing. Architecture. Something I am mildly interested in. Seems like something I’ll take a greater interest in at a more advanced stage of my life.
Another excuse for my absence! I’m moving! Out of Chicago. School is over and done with. Going going back to KaySay KaySay for a couple months. Moving is tiring and I am predictably very bad at it.
Gotta be organized! My fokes is coming up Friday to help out and to drive me back on Saturday. So Friday = Last Night in Town. Hopefully we’ll get some pics crackalackin that night.
I know there was some Newman chatter outta me a few posts back, but seriously: Good Old Boys is a fuggin classic. Every song is smart and funny and fun.
Also got an advance of that new Louris/Olson disc in the mail for review. Ya boy is likin it — the Jayhawks are one of those bands that have just been quietly churning out good albums for like 20 years. They’re so consistent people barely pay attention to them anymore. Anyway this new one, which I guess isn’t technically Jayhawks (but what could be more Jayhawks than a Louris/Olson disc?) sounds like Workingman’s Dead to me, at least on my initial cursory listen.
Like loving a woman with a broken nose
Worked one last day at the firm last week. All in all I have to say it was one of the better jobs I’ve had. Lowwwwww stress.
Merchandise Mart. I temped there a few days last summer. It is Fucking Huge.
Corkscrew broke. Had a dilly of a time getting this mofo open. Had to cram that shit down.
There’s no words there!
I love when they do these dance remixes. The one with the senator talking about the internet being a “series of tubes” is also hilarious.
Saw a hit-and-run accident today on the walk back from the grocery store. Guy just crashes right into a parked car, knocks off the mirror and smashes the fuck out of the driver door and keeps on driving. Made a huge noise and I’m standing there on Milwaukee looking for somebody else who saw it, there’s people everywhere. Nobody. Nothing. No acknowledgment of it whatsoever. Like it never happened. So I just went home.
In a mellow tone
Back home and refreshed. I have a hard time relaxing but I came as close as I can get this past week. Well I did up until the end there — United Airlines will be receiving a furious letter of complaint sometime this week. All told I lost about ten hours due to delays on this trip. Air travel didn’t used to be like this. The whole time I’m just desperately attempting to keep my anger and emotions in check.
…Trying to picture stuff like this in my head instead of fantasies of taking a wrench to the Departures/Arrivals board in the terminal. Oy vey.
Stopped in D.C. on the way down and saw some sights.
On the whole we weren’t too impressed with D.C. I think the verdict was that it lacked character. But we were staying in what I assume was a financial district — all new buildings and boring fancy restaurants encased in glass — so maybe we were missing out. Didn’t make it over to Georgetown, for instance, which is probably more historic.
Then south we drove, through Virginia, North Carolina, finally down into South Carolina where the accents were more pronounced and the climate started to become more Florida-y.
I insisted on a BK stop and when one finally appeared I happened upon this new product. Marketing apples as a kind of fry. Genius. The food was terrible and the people were mostly unpleasant-looking and we left as quickly as possible. On the way back I petitioned for another BK stop and was denied.
Cruised around the island in bikes all week which you know your boy loved. Saw many interesting winged creatures. Saw a gator! We taped flashlights to the baskets at night because there were no streetlights. Still many people crashed. Not me though, I’m an excellent bike-rider.
Lots of delicious nawsh. And wine and imported beer. And smuggled Percocet. There was a pool out back, too, so most days I didn’t really see the point in going to the beach. But I did two or three days, and I played volleyball and bocce ball and read my book, a Jonathan Ames novel, which was not bad but I probably prefer his nonfiction.
Did some exploring and found these creepy mushroom-shaped houses tucked away behind a resort.
I thought they were strange anyway.
A crab got loose! But then we put it back in its box and then boiled it to death and ate it! A happy ending.
They’re tryin to wash us away
I was cleaning up my computer today and came across this video. Kone took the footage — I think it’s from Lollapalooza weekend last year. Grown men talking and behaving like children.
Headed off for some vaca but I’m bringing along the ol’ laptop. Probs have some posts and photos.
I’ve always liked this song — is Newman underrated? I think maybe. — but I didn’t know Neville did a cover. Oh boy–here come the waterworks…
You always got more than enough rope
Well you know I love Friedman but Frank Rich is by far my faves Times columnist. And this is an excellent piece from today’s Week in Review.
I mean shit is just ridic. Also Hersh’s got a new one on Iran over here. I just saw it today but I haven’t read it yet b/c I got those Sunday afterbooze blues and I can’t stomach the outrage that I know will result from reading it.
Lindsey Buckingham, “Trouble” — thank you Tony.
Welcome to Waterworld
So I went for a walk this afternoon and I saw a poster for this movie at a bus stop on Damen. I just started laughing out loud right in the middle of the street. When did I start doing this kind of thing? I never used to laugh when I was by myself. The past few years it happens all the time. I guess it’s because I spend so much time alone. Anyway, I was crossing my fingers the whole way home, hoping it’d be another baseball movie (the title kind of implies it, and he was wearing a baseball cap in the ad) but alas it is not. However, it does look like a frontrunner for dumbest movie of the year.
Back in the High Life again
Big Hatt generously offering Kone $20 for gas money. Later he used that same $20 to buy us Hardee’s. In Concordia, MO. At 6:00 am. I’m not sure why he had his shirt off but I did too.
We embarked on the fourth for KoMO. The Nugget is still poppin but we took the van (also pictured). But first me, Mr. Sweet, and Konay had to pick up Big Hatt at the airport. We were 45 minutes late, and with no excuse. As in, we were just sitting around staring at walls. But you know Big Hatt: he was all, Who cares? Sure I’ll wait around — no biggie.
We rolled up and he hopped in, and the hang was on again. On the way down, we listened to his various NYC schemes and plots, with the help from our fifth companion, Stonyhorse. When we arrived in Kewmew, we knew where we wanted to go, but we were afraid: would it be open on the fourth? It would take a truly patriotic business to stay open. We pulled up. No, it couldn’t be. Better move along to DQ (our backup). But then…
Boom! Open for business! We all got chicken. My sides were mashed potatoes and corn. I think Kone and Sweets got red beans and rice. It was darned good. I put honey on my biscuit. Then we swung by Eastgate and settled in over at Krugs and Helsing’s place and checked out their collection of Thunder Warrior movies on VHS. Krugs also whet my appetite with a copy of Octopus 2. Then we all went out and got drunk and then the four in the van left Komo at 5 in the morning, just like we thought we would.
Oh, I forgot: this is what Sweetims got at the gas station on the way down.
Saturday was Konefest. It started a little slow, but by the end it was really rockin. Well that’s not true. We were all heavily medicated and I for one had trouble doing anything but laying around and laughing. Actually sometimes it was hard to laugh. Suffice it to say there have been more active Konefests.
Saturday night we were struggs. But we persevered. We made it to Hoopers and then had a late one over at Stonay Rosa. The laughs were flowin.
Big Hatt had slept about five hours in two days but even running on fumes he was gettin it dun. Although yes he did pass out on the couch.
We went to QT again and got donays and doggers. Then we watched Slam Dunk Ernest. God, it was terrible. Oh I forgot to mention that on Thursday I was able to catch up on some Lambert — Mean Guns, Mortal Kombat, and Gun Men. The opening scene in Gun Men had me rollin. So did the “Four is better than three” scene in Mean Guns. Why am I even writing this right now? Nobody knows what I’m talking about. Oh yeah, and on Sunday we executed on Hang-cock. I’m glad we did it, but the movie was terrible. Just terrible and stupid.
Together we moved like spirits in the night (all night)
Horseshoes in Joliet. Anne’s graduation party. Although due to the fact that I too recently graduated I felt that the celebration was held at least partially in my honor, and I ate and drank as such. On the way there Kelly and I stopped at a liquor store and bought some presents for Anne. We had the counter lady slap a $149.99 price sticker on a $12 bottle of Korbel. It’s kind of sad how pleased we were with ourselves for that. Also I got her some scratchers–Cheddar Changers and Funny Money, I think. No word yet on whether any money was won. I kind of assume she just threw them in the trash.
Le Ries was probs the best horseshoer. On my first or second throw, the horseshoe bounced off the wooden log that encases the sand pit and smashed Kelly’s Stella bottle that was resting by the tree.
Smashed it into a million pieces. All these little kids running around barefoot. Most of it was cleaned up by the time I thought to take a picture, though. The night wore on. People left and passed out. Anne the host was out for the count around 11 or so. At some point Mike was wildly waving his arms in the process of telling a story to one of his old Joliet boys and he spilled red wine all over the guy’s bright white shirt. Just all over it. So much it almost looked artful. Eventually the company dwindled down to just the losers: me, Ries, Mike and Kelly. Sitting by the fire and high as hell talking about Tim Russert and Tony Rezko. No wonder nobody wants to hang out with us. When I ran out of cigarettes we went inside and ate pulled pork sandwiches and cookies and milk.
