Closet

From my notebook, written this weekend:

"I am in the closet.

Seriously.

I am IN the closet. This is where I am to sleep. I am taller than the closet is long.

The couch has been taken over by Zach's sister and her boyfriend.

I am considering a coup."

Justice ou la morte!

"Justice! Justice! Justice!"

No, We were not at a Jena 6 demonstration, or an anti-war protest, though if one were to judge by the fervor of the crowd it could have been a european soccor riot. We were in Minneapolis, AJ and I, at Foundation waiting for Justice to take the stage. Foundation is a smaller venue, and it was PACKED. They had sold out the show on a Tuesday night, which is pretty difficult to do, I would imagine. Tickets were only $15, which meant I could see a quality band without killing my bank account. Justice was not about ego, no crazy costumes like Daft Punk, no mind-blowing effects. What they had was better than all that: the ability to keep the party going. We were about 10 feet from the stage, but we weren't crushed at all. Everyone wanted room to dance, and the psychic energy there was fantastic.

We danced until the wee hours of the morning.

And then did a radio show.

And then went to Class.

And then spoke at a forum.

And then worked on a paper.

And finally I slept.

Justice!

Minneapolis, here I come!

Vacuum + Pie =

One Bitchin' Sunday.




Sometimes the most mundane days are the funnest...

I was awoken this morning by my alarm clock, which for normal person is no big deal. But it was a tad odd because I have not been able to make it ring for about a week. I don't know exactly what Dylan did to it, but he certainly did quite a number on it.

Surprised by the miraculously healed alarm clock, I dragged my ass out of bed (no mean feat, mind you). It was a dreary, depressing morning. I have been sick for nearly a week, and not in the greatest of moods. Amber had overslept and missed church service, so she and I made eggs for breakfast. We then cleared off the coffee table and proceeded to work on our papers that are due in the morning (Mine is not done yet-- that is to say, not started yet). I actually have fun writing english papers, I think its a superb challenge and shitloads of entertainment. That's why I'm an English major.

When Lucy awake she made muffins, and we formulated a grand plan. And so, still in my robe and Jammies, we struck out on VacuumQuest. The vacuum we had hardly worked, and actually made the mess worse. It is ancient, donated to us by Lucy's grandmother. But, hey-- It was free, right? And the vacuum we picked up: Glorious! When we got it home we assembled it and gathered around as each of us took our turn vacuuming. It's awesome, no lie.

Once we bought the vacuum, We swung by Norske Nook and bought ourselves a Raspberry Creamcheese Pie. Now, this pie, this $30 pie, is amazingly gigantic and amazingly delicious. It is 12" in diameter and 4" deep. Amazing.

Lucy and I went to see the Korean film "The Host" at Davies theatre. It was one of the best, most riveting film I have seen in a long time. Most movies, I start to wonder what time it is about half way through, but I did not waver with this one. I love how the skipped the grand exposition, any scientific explanation, and had minimal dialogue, to find such humor and great character development. And damn, those asians love their revenge tragedies, don't they? That's ok, because I do too.

Sundays like this don't happen too often, when you can just have fun being as nerdy as you really are, be in your PJs all damn day, and be excited about a vacuum. Anyone who needs constant entertaintment is missing out on the best thing in the world : Being yourself.

E-mail from Dad

"To add insult to injury, after missing the Stripes, I was listening to 88.9 last night. As I pulled into the driveway, they announced that Ticketmaster was wrong, the Wilco concert that night was NOT sold out and you could buy tickets at the door. If I had only known earlier. Damn!!"



I COULD HAVE SEEN WILCO, AND I MISSED IT.

HEADS WILL ROLL.

Documentaries and Pancakes

It's taken me all of Staurday and Sunday to conquer my hangover, but I did it. Vodka is officially off the good list. I hardly remember Friday.

I spent most of today watching Wide Angle online, just documentary after documentary. Needless to say, I am very glad Samar fixed the internet. Most people use the internet for porn but not me. I use it to watch PBS. Fuck Yeah.

WORT

I love radio, in particular independent stations. Among these stations is 89.9 WORT out of Madison. The greatest show of all time is broadcast on this station, Psychoacoustics and the Hour of Slack. I would likely die if I did not have my weekly communion at the Church of the Subgenius. It is so amazing, so wonderful, it speaks to my soul. I aspire to have a radio show as good as the one of Rev. Velveteen, Fr. Angus and Bad Sister Heidi, they are my DJ idols (runner-up: Marcus Doucette of 88Nine in Milwaukee).

In the maximalist novel, Infinite Jest, the author describes a radio program called 60 Minutes +/-. This show is run by Madame Psychosis who reads her poetry over random beats and distorted conversations.

I want to do a show entirely of randomly recorded conversations. Trivial, deep, I don't care. It is my dream. I must do this.