Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Nice going, guys

The 1.5-mile barrier along the U.S.-Mexico border was designed to keep cars from illegally crossing into the United States. There's just one problem: It was accidentally built on Mexican soil. Now embarrassed border officials say the mistake could cost the federal government more than $3 million to fix.

James Johnson, whose onion farm is in the disputed area, said he thinks his forefathers may have started the confusion in the 19th century by placing a barbed-wire fence south of the border. No one discovered their error, and crews erecting the barrier may have used that fence as a guideline.

The Mexican government was notified and did what any landowner would do: They sent a note politely insisting that Mexico get its land back.

"Our country will continue insisting for the removal (of the fence) to be done as quickly as possible," the Foreign Relations Department said in a diplomatic missive to Washington.

When the barrier was built in 2000, the project was believed to cost about $500,000 a mile. Estimates to uproot and replace it range from $2.5 million to $3.5 million.

Michael Friel, the spokesman for Customs and Border Protection, said the barrier was "built on what was known to be the international boundary at the time." He acknowledged the method used was "less precise than it is today."

Lucy and Dakota, this is for you

Friday, June 29, 2007


The gods are smiling upon me because this was the kindest hangover I've had in a long time. I went to Chi-town yesterday, and hung out with Lila, John, Bobby, and Tory at their lovely home. Bobby still looks like my math professor, complete with the resplendant beard, hard to beleive he's from Mississippi because he is intellegent and speaks like a normal person.

Jess: We most obtain a copy of Rabelais, for what I read of him yesterday made me laugh so hard I was in tears. I'm surprised it survived the inquisition, it's very risque for Medieval/Rennaissance lit or even modern shit.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

I vant to suck your blood, ah ah ah.

One thing that one shouldn't do around a wild animal that is probably scared and confused is to run around screaming and jumping from chair to chair. And jumping from chair to chair isn't the best idea when you're trying to get away from something that is FLYING.

I'm not terribly freaked out by bats, they are harmless and even gentle. All the plays I have done at Seno Woodland Center have had bats flitting about, swooping in front of you when you're trying to do a death scene or a sword fight. But unfortunately my sister has not had any of this experience. She flipped the fuck out, for like an hour AFTER the bat had left.

I am not spending the next summer here, let me tell you that. Maybe I'll be stay in Eau Claire, crash on a couch in Chicago, or go to the Cities, but staying in ET, I am not. I have had it with these people. I never liked my siblings to begin with, I didn't speak to my Mom for 2 whole months after my sister was born. They grate on my nerves more and more with each passing year. I don't know, maybe we didn't get along in a past life or something.

I am so confused by people who volontarily move in with a sibling. I would end up going postal if I have to put up with them for longer than a summer.

I am not spending tomorrow at this house, that's for damn sure. Maybe I'll go to Milwaukee, or Chicago. This is not my home, I have never felt that it was.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Cas, You Look Like Allen Ginsberg

I bought tickets to see The White Stripes in October yesterday. I'm going with my dad and I can't wait. I must remember to book a bus ticket to Chicago in Oct. I'll end up missing some Monday classes, but it is well worth it. I can't believe Tory said he hated the Stripes. He must be crazy.

I want to travel to India. Go to an ashram for a while, join a commune, yell at those bastards from tech support who give fake names as if we can't tell that we got patched through to Mumbai.

Hung out with Adam, the Maggies, and two-guys-whose-names-I-can't-remember on thursday night at the cafe. I think Maggie One has a crush on me. Found out that I have been taking the long way to McHenry for about three weeks. Sadly missed the Bizzarre Bazaar today because I had to drive my little sister to Salem. Talked to GriM once again about a tattoo and he's drawing up sketches. Yay! My parents will kill me! That thought just makes me smile!

Saw "Knocked Up" Wednesday with Mike. I highly reccommend it! It made me laugh so hard I was crying and made me want to have children even less. I enjoy mine and Mike's Losers' Club meetings thoroughly.

Oh yeah, To explain the title: One of the cooks at Kona Cafe, Cas, has been growing his beard out. It's crazy long now and will probably catch fire when he's cooking if it hasn't already. He also wears a beret most days that makes him look like Allen Ginsberg. And because he looks like that, I now want to fuck him. You know you're an English nerd when you want to fuck a guy who looks like a dead gay poet.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Just a Big Kid ( I'll call you Betty and Betty, you can call me crazy)

I fucking LOVE the zoo. I'm just a big kid, zipping around exhibit to exhibit, and I seem to instantaneously develop ADD as soon as I walk through the gates. The zoo is endlessly fascinating, just to marvel at all of the strange creatures of the world. I look at the giraffe and I cannot help doubting its existance. Impossibly tall, knobbly legs that shouldn't be able to support anything, camel-necked (another creature that shouldn't exist) and wide spots as if a leapord's pelt had been stretched too far.

Seeing a creature like that almost makes me believe in a creator. Perhaps this is Fantastica, and there is some Prince Bastian around inventing the world as he goes. Chicago must be the invention of a madman's mind. People travel about, averting their eyes from one another, and try to deny any existance of a connection. I am annoyed that the most meaningful connection I have had in days was with a seal. He had come up for air, and we stared at each other for two minutes. I swear I could tell what was going throuh it's mind, how he felt. Human languages don't often translate into the languages of the People well, but you can hear what they are telling you, whether it be pictures or just a vibe. Yeah, I'm a total hippie, go ahead and make fun of me.

A house of total wonder, the zoo is almost like a church. A sacred eglise of life.

(The Kevlar Lion House at Lincoln Park)

I saw a woman in the lion house, an old victorian structure that was part of the original zoo, with almost victorian exhibits, I couldn't help but pity the felines interned there. This woman was likely someone's bubbie, with folded hands and bowed head murmuring to herself. She seemed to be praying. To whom? I wonder.

A couple saw me today at the lily pond talking to myself. They ran into me later in the day and asked me who I was speaking to, was it the fish? I was so embarassed that someone had seen me in such a private moment a blush actually tinged my ghostly skin. I laughed it off and said no, I had been speaking to the dragonflies. I like that people have the balls to ask another about their lives, rather than be an ant.

Went to Lila's place after. I got lost on the way there, completely missing her street and walking six blocks further than I needed. I attribute this to misreading the street sign, I read it as 'Artisan' not 'Artesian.' I hate to say it but I think my house in EC is more ghetto than her's, and her's is on the fucking southside! At least my rent is resonable and doesn't have planes flying overhead. As far as noise goes she got the shaft. You can hear the Sox Statium cannons from the Shimer dorms, and hear the traffic from Midway at the new place. It has the same vibe Godot had, a feeling that I have certainly missed.

We sat down and watched The Blues Brothers. Its so wierd seeing on film places that are so familiar. You can tell that the train that passes the place that gets blown up is the Green line, and is on the Southside. The scene with Ray Charles in that movie is fucking priceless. He pulls a gun on a kid that's tryin to steal a guitar from his music shop. Priceless. I can't believe how many famous people mad it into that film. Ray Charles, John Lee Hooker, Frank Oz, Aretha Franklin, James Brown... and that's just off the top of my head. Awesome soundtrack. I'm not christian, but I want to go to a service at the church James Brown was preaching at.

I haven't puked yet this morning, but I have a feeling that'll change pretty soon, considering that I have let my body relax.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

A rare instance in which I was wrong

I quit my job yesterday, by far the best decision I've made in a long time. And I decided to go out to celebrate. I went to Swing State in Lake Villa, IL, for their festival thing they had going on, which included firedancers and several bands. I first heard about this place from a fellow named 13/Mark, who played there with his band, 13's Fantasy. Judging from the music and videos posted on his website, I was not expecting anything worthwhile. This is where I was wrong. His show was entertaining, well-put together, and is great to see live. It was just 13 up on stage, but he made up for the lack of a traditional band with enthusiasm. His lyrics were absurd and witty. Thought the treble was turned up a little too much, I actually enjoyed myself.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Alex Grey

Everybody's acting like I'm fucking crazy or somethin'.

I made a bad decision today.

I hopped into my car, started it my music up and got on the road. I was playing Modest Mouse as loud as my crappy speakers will allow before it sounds like shizzle. I thought: wow, this is a perfect day to just go off on a road trip. I could drive as far as my collection of Modest Mouse will take me. It was probably the best idea I've had in a long time.

But, alas!

I went to work.

That was a poor choice.

I hate my job with a passion, or more accurately, I hate my boss with a passion. She is the most ignorant, pretentious person I have met in quite a while. In general, I try to get to know someone before I pass any form of judgement upon them, but every time I speak to this woman I am OVERCOME with a sense of superiority. Every fucking tourist that walks throught the door makes me want to scream. Some people are just zombies, going along with whatever society has told them.

I need to get out of this situation ASAP. It puts me into such a foul mood everyday that I don't even go home until 3 am most nights. I got my first paycheck yesterday, after having to beg for it, and I'm sure it'll bounce anyhow. I don't need this shit. I don't need to be a wage slave. I am young, I can cast off the chains of mediocrity and fucking live. I will not become a broken, bitter mess at the age of 19. I reject your yuppie values. I am not one of you, for only dead fish go with the flow.

I implore you, dear non-existant readers: do not let someone else control your life. Seize it, make your life as interesting as it can be.

Saturday, June 09, 2007

Mo, PoMo, and Post-PoMo

I adore PoMo Lit (that's Postmodern if you couldn't figure that out). Today I bought Salman Rushdie's "The Satanic Verses," and Henry Miller's "Sexus," both which I can't afford to be spending money on.

I always thought that Nabokov was the epitome of th PoMo genre, but now Wikipedia tells me I'm wrong. And now the Genre- bending is fucking with my mind. Who are the modernists? Who are the Postmodernists? And pray tell, WHO ARE THE POST-POSTMODERNISTS?? I am taking a course in Post-PoMo fiction next semester and I would like to get a head start by at least figuring out what that is. Yeah, I'm a total nerd, but whatever.


Today is the first day I haven't wanted to spray Windex in my boss's eyes and bludgeon her with a gelato scoop. Maybe things are getting better.

Friday, June 08, 2007


I'm back from EC now, and how I miss it. I got to see my roomies, Dave and Jessie, Victoria and even Dakota. I wish I was still there, but I don't have a job up there. I hate my current job, I'm thinking of quitting a month earlier than I had intended and moving up north.

Some people think a four hour drive is too much but I don't think of it as driving hell, I think of it as a four-hour music listening extravaganza! I've discovered that I'm happiest when I'm somehow in trasition. There is something about being in location limbo that is very soothing to me. Driving and walking are the two things that calm me down no matter what. Though some are annoyed by my dissappearing acts (namely my parents), they are essential to my being.

Shout out to Noah! Have fun!