Happiness is truly a fickle thing. I have no reason for any unhappiness, I'm fairly content with where I am right now. Such simple things make me happy, an afternoon of solitude, the coming of an infinitie night, a smile from a friend. One minute I am swimming in the caressing light of elation, and the next, being grabbed around the throat and drowning in the pools of despair. It came last night, along with its buddy insomnia. Even now, after a long work day and maybe an hour of sleep, I cannot rest. I don't know when this feeling will lift. Last time, I discovered its absence in the middle of a Grammar class, the time before that, a quick phone call from someone I hadn't spoken with for a while. It doesn't feel like it'll stay long, but it may want to get cozy in the recesses of my mind. I just need someone to hold my hand if it gets painful. We all need a hand to hold when it gets painful.

Hello, Mudda

My mom figured out tonight that I drink. Her suggestion: mother-daughter barhopping. I'm not sure if this a good thing or a bad thing.

"Harrowing Adventures in Chicagoland"

or "How Liz and Adam Are Nearly Arrested for Attempted Acts of Vagrancy"

"I am currently writing this from a Greasy Spoon in Greektown, my stomach threatening to betray me, and my lungs about to quit on me. I have ventured into the bathrooms in this place once already, and I refuse to even puke there. Why would you shit NEXT to a toilet? That's not right. How did I get here, at 3am on a Friday morning? How did all this happen?

It started Thursday morning when I arrived at Adam's to pick him up so we could go to Chicago together. We nearly crashed into each other, as he was taking his car to the dealership to have some repairs done. This was alright with me, because I knew there were plenty of trains that we could take later in the day. After telling his parents some lie about moving furniture(which would explain why I was driving my father's truck), we smuggled the cigar stash out of the house and we were on our way. Seeing as we had missed the trains from Fox Lake and Harvard, we decided to take the train from Crystal Lake in the afternoon, even though the only thing we knew about Crystal Lake was that it was in Illinois. Guided by instinct and half-assed directions from our friend Maggie, we navigated CORRECTLY to the station, with time to spare.

Making our way to our friend's apartment was slightly more aggravating, given that we were travelling during rush hourand the Orange line was delayed due to a train malfunction at LaSalle. We made it, only to find that no one was home. We waited on the porch, and after a short wait, Bobby and Stash arrived. Bobby is only staying there temporarily so he had no keys. In through the window we went! Soon the rest of the roommates arrived, which swiftly developed into a small party, complete with mandolin and trombone performances. Lila and I did what we do best, and split a bottle.

Soon we sadi our goodbyes and headed back to the Orange line. But because of the delays earlier in the day, the train schedule had been pushed back, and our train was late. We got to Ogilvee, running as fast as we possibly could, with only a seconds before our train left. As we approched the train, the doors shut in our faces. The conductor simply shook his head and walked away. Well, I would have none of it. I grabbed hold of the handle on the side to hoist myself up and bang on the window. At this point, the train began to move. The conductor saw me and stopped the train...so he could call the police.

I prayed the officer would ignore my sour breath and quickly came up with a game plan: pity. I turned on the waterworks, pinned all the blame upon myself. He did indeed take pity on us, of course after telling us that he should be tossing us right into jail or at least fined a thousand dollars apiece. He escorted us out of the station and followed us for a block.

After he left us, I began to fret about my father's vehicle which we had left in what was certainly NOT overnight parking and was boldly labelled as such. At worst, it was going to be towed, at best ticketed. Adam sagely advised that I call CLPD and tell them our situation, which worked out swimmingly.

With that worry out of the way, we began to meander about the Loop, because we had five hours to burn before the next possible train. we were kicked out of a White Hen, where we unfortunately forgot the cigar stash. We sat down on a bench overlooking the river, so we could formulate a plan. Out of the shadows came a man who pointed out to us two quickly approaching officers who were likely going to arrest us for loitering. Rather than face another brush with the police, we followed him on a whirlwind tour of all the places we could hang out before 5am. He regaled us with stories of his time in Vietnam, his niece and nephew and his own escapades with the local law enforcement. We left our guide in Greektown, after, of course giving him the money he was bound to ask for.

This dive is definitely popular with the trendy clubbers, Adam and I stand out very much. We have just consulted the schedule and we have discovered that the early train does not go to Crystal Lake. We decided to get off at Pingree Road and walk the three miles to our vehicle. Unfortunate, but necessary. Adam must work at 10 in the morning, and I have already received angry calls from my father about my whereabouts. My buzz is fading and hangover is setting in."

The Subtle Racism of Milwaukee PBS

PBS shows plenty of filler in between their wonderful, wonderful progams. Some of it is music videos, quirky tidbits, and short instructional videos. I enjoy these quite a bit, except one.


'Kids in the Kitchen' features a two young Latina girls, Sophia and Samantha, and a vampiric blonde yuppie who teaches them simple recipes and how to set a proper table, complete with three forks and two glasses. I am reminded of a missionary trying to teach western ways to the natives, who already have their own ways that have served them just fine for centuries. That woman is probably laden with smallpox, watch out, girls!

This probably doesn't bug anyone else, but it does indeed bother me.

Summer

Holy crap, half my summer's GONE.

Out the window.

Vanished.

Funtoosh. (Where did I pick up that word from, by the way?)

I've managed to fit a lot in so far. It started off fairly miserable...but has taken a pleasant turn as of late, mostly due to switching jobs and visits to Chicago. The date for moving to Eau Claire keeps getting pushed back, from just a month to two months and now to late August. Chason's coming back in late August and I would like to hang out with him once again before I move to the middle of no place. I am entertaining hopes of transferring to a different school for next fall, something near a city, and more intense academics. fingers crossed I can pull up my GPA by then.

Snapshots

"You ready for some Crisco Disco?"

"Sartre will teach you how not to smoke."

"I'll trade you a sheep for that."

"My life's goal is to be Pope-- or the governor of Louisiana."

"I'm not used to it, so I had to shove it in further than I had to."

"Dr. Who! It's like Christmas!"

"I did NOT just put a burrito in my cigarette holder!"

"I'm as sober as a duckling."

"We could put them in a jar and have Bonsai Kittens!"

"Is it fiction? Is it non-fiction? You have to ask yourself, do you really care?"

Yes, all in all, it was a fun night at Godot 2.0.

DANCING IS SUPERNATURAL BLISS GIVEN TO US BY THE HEAVENS.
Well put, 13. Well put.

Strung Out

on Jeff Buckley. Music is better than crack.

weekend recap

The trouble with workingin food service is that your "weekends" are on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, not on the weekend. I got off of work early on Monday and so went to Cafe Aeon to start off my weekend. Had a lovely time, chatting with Maggie and observing a bizzare card game which still confuses me, even though it was explained several times.

I went to Chicago yesterday, intending to go to the MCA, but ended up hanging out with the Devil. I feel that we're in a better place, where we can be actual friends without any drama. We ended up walking 20 extra blocks when trying to get to a friend's apartment to feed their cats. Oooo...exciting, I know!

Today, my friend Chason gave a talk at the Lake Geneva Buddhist Center. He was in town from Santa Fe because of the Tool concert at Summerfest, and to see family. He's a travelling teacher of DW Buddhism, and so lectured at the centers in Milwaukee and LG. He looks like a skateboarding frat boy now, which I find very amusing because you wouldn't figure someone who appears that way has their Master's degree in Eastern religions and is going for their doctorate.

We went to a bar after the meditation session, and I immediately got carded. My dad was with me, but they were still being pricks about it. But, it was great to hang out with those guys again. Chason is one of the friendliest guys you could ever meet, and his girlfriend, Emily, is an absolute sweetheart. I looked up to Chason a lot when I was younger, he encouraged me to expirience life to the fullest and not let any thing hold me back. I still look up to him, but now I view him as a real person, not just an ideal.

Listening to: The Mountain Goats. First Impression: mediocre. Now: It grew on me, I think it's pretty good.

Only Cost Me a Quarter!

This book has crossed my path quite a few times, whether at a book sale or in a friend's bookcase. This time it practically threw itself at me, so finally, I bought it.

From the Dali-esque cover, I'm thinking it's an existentialist journey. I'll let you know

"A Fascist Corporate Wasteland"

Yes, folks, it is time for my yearly Independence Day Rant. I know you've been sitting on the edge of your seat for this.

To begin with, I am very annoyed by those who write on the calendar: "Fourth of July" on the fourth of July. Apparently, most people are incapable of properly reading a calendar, due to our under-funded schools. So for those of you who got more than a fifth-grade education, please stick to writing "Independence Day" or doodling a little american flag.

The miniscule crumb of faith I had left in the people of America has been crunched up by the crow of defeat. Cindy Sheehan, one of the most prominent anti-war voices has decided not to return to Crawford to continue her protests.

"I have tried ever since he died to make his sacrifice meaningful," she wrote. "Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives.

"It is so painful to me to know that I bought into this system for so many years, and Casey paid the price for that allegiance. I failed my boy and that hurts the most."

It hurts us too, Cindy. You put everything on the line so others would see the futility and pointlessness of war, you were a symbol to us of strength and hope.

Governments are meant to serve the people, and yet the favorite sport of the government is ass-raping the hopes of the common folk. I grew up hearing about the corrupted aldermen of Milwaukee, and the shady dealings in Chicago government. Recently, Alderman Micheal McGee, Jr. was arrested on charges of accepting bribes, extortion, election violations, vote buying, and breaking court secrecy orders in addition to threatened violence. For all those who think anarchy is a bad idea: is it really worse than what we have now?

Take a look at the Scooter fiasco. This was going down when I was in my senior year of high school. In my Current Issues class we had divided ourselves to first day into the right and left sides of the classroom (I sat on the far left side if you couldn't tell). The guys on the far right were friends of mine, but when it came to this class we were always at each other's throats. Cody was the ringleader, MC Rove if you will, and Kyle was his Scooter. Scooter was just the puppet, Rove and Cheney should have gone down. But now even the fall guy is getting off the hook.

The former chief of staff to Vice President Dick Cheney, was convicted March 6, 2007, of lying to F.B.I. agents and grand jurors investigating the outing of C.I.A. operative Valerie Plame.

The jury rejected Mr. Libby's claims of memory lapses as it convicted him of obstruction of justice, giving false statements to the F.B.I. and perjuring himself, charges embodied in four counts of the indictment. The panel acquitted him on a single count of making false statements. On July 2, 2007, President Bush commuted the prison sentence calling it "excessive." The president portrayed his commutation of the sentence, which fell short of a pardon and still requires Mr. Libby to pay a $250,000 fine and be on probation for two years, as a carefully considered compromise, says The New York Times.

This whole operation is severely robsonized.

Cuz This Blog Is Duuurrrtay

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