Important
This will be my very very last post here, at boyinbrownshirt.blogspot.com. Repeated security breaches have necessitated my transition to another journal. If you have any interest in reading this new journal, please e-mail me at...
Brian_Solem@hotmail.com
Don't e-mail me at aol.com, since I rarely check that E-mail. Archives will remain here until I can figure out how to move them. Thank you for your understanding; a detailed explaination of everything can be found at my new journal.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Abbilash Talkies
I haven't seen a film with a real, live human character in many many weeks. First, Theo and I saw The Polar Express, a film with an awful plot (perhaps I think it's awful because I was never read the book as a child and therefore have no emotional tie to it) and a faulty, awkward animation style. Then, he and I saw The Incredibles, which was wonderful all over. I really enjoy Pixar films; they're timeless and flawless. One day later, Lauren (in an outing that was preceded by several months of me being a cold, dirty fish to her) and I saw Team America: World Police, which enthralled me mostly based on the marionettes. I have always been fascinated by marionettes, and wanted one desperately as a child. The plot--well, as the Onion wrote, it worked better as a real Jerry Bruckheimer-brand action film than a satire. But it was still fun. THEN, to reach my quota of four non-human films per year, I rented Shrek 2, which was annoying, awful, and proposterous. I didn't really like the first one, mostly because of its association with a guy I dated (it was our first date activity; he was an asshole). The second one reminds me of that old camp song adage, "Second verse, same as the first--a little bit louder, and a little bit worse." Blah.
There are at least 67 films I'd like to see that are coming out before the new year.
Otherwise, nothing to report. I feel like these film reviews cheapen this journal, but when filmwatching is the highlight of my life, what else do I have to write about?
Oh, the Newberry Seminar. It's a 6-credit hour course hosted by all of the Chicago-area universities at the Newberry Library downtown. Essentially, it's an English course with an emphasis on research, and only five students from each participating university are allowed to participate. Even though I just got a rave review on a well-researched essay from my S. Asian lit prof. (who happens to be the dept. chair this year), my insecurities prevented me from applying. So, I basically have nothing to help me get into a good graduate school except for decent grades. So, I'm fucked. So, aaaah.
I haven't seen a film with a real, live human character in many many weeks. First, Theo and I saw The Polar Express, a film with an awful plot (perhaps I think it's awful because I was never read the book as a child and therefore have no emotional tie to it) and a faulty, awkward animation style. Then, he and I saw The Incredibles, which was wonderful all over. I really enjoy Pixar films; they're timeless and flawless. One day later, Lauren (in an outing that was preceded by several months of me being a cold, dirty fish to her) and I saw Team America: World Police, which enthralled me mostly based on the marionettes. I have always been fascinated by marionettes, and wanted one desperately as a child. The plot--well, as the Onion wrote, it worked better as a real Jerry Bruckheimer-brand action film than a satire. But it was still fun. THEN, to reach my quota of four non-human films per year, I rented Shrek 2, which was annoying, awful, and proposterous. I didn't really like the first one, mostly because of its association with a guy I dated (it was our first date activity; he was an asshole). The second one reminds me of that old camp song adage, "Second verse, same as the first--a little bit louder, and a little bit worse." Blah.
There are at least 67 films I'd like to see that are coming out before the new year.
Otherwise, nothing to report. I feel like these film reviews cheapen this journal, but when filmwatching is the highlight of my life, what else do I have to write about?
Oh, the Newberry Seminar. It's a 6-credit hour course hosted by all of the Chicago-area universities at the Newberry Library downtown. Essentially, it's an English course with an emphasis on research, and only five students from each participating university are allowed to participate. Even though I just got a rave review on a well-researched essay from my S. Asian lit prof. (who happens to be the dept. chair this year), my insecurities prevented me from applying. So, I basically have nothing to help me get into a good graduate school except for decent grades. So, I'm fucked. So, aaaah.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Personal Failing No. 894
For whatever reason, my lackluster interest in studying and doing homework has reached an all time low since this semester began. I hate how class sessions are filled with so much uncertainty; even if I feel I've sufficiently read what I needed to read (for the classes I actually prepare for), I'm still under-equipped to handle discussion. I'm skipping my first class simply because I don't want to deal with the unexpected this morning; while this is my first absence from this class (a personal record?), the pain of actually going to that class will pale in comparison to the fear of not knowing what I've missed by skipping.
How does one motivate oneself?
For whatever reason, my lackluster interest in studying and doing homework has reached an all time low since this semester began. I hate how class sessions are filled with so much uncertainty; even if I feel I've sufficiently read what I needed to read (for the classes I actually prepare for), I'm still under-equipped to handle discussion. I'm skipping my first class simply because I don't want to deal with the unexpected this morning; while this is my first absence from this class (a personal record?), the pain of actually going to that class will pale in comparison to the fear of not knowing what I've missed by skipping.
How does one motivate oneself?
Sunday, October 17, 2004
On Awful Consumption-Driven Holidays
Instead of graciously allowing Theo and me to have some intimacy last night, Yuki decided to punish our sodomy by tearing up an entire box of Kleenex all over the house. Just because we took your sex drive away doesn't mean you can punish us for still having it.
In other news, the Chicago Tribune just announced that GEORGE W. BUSH is their candidate for president. How can this paradigmatic Chicago institution betray its state's Democratic identification and supporta candidate that most of its state doesn't? Oh, yeah, media deregulation. Duh. (Bastards--they no longer will serve as my "home page"--since Theo has had to have a NYT subscription for his class, I've fallen in love with the paper, and it will now greet me every time I access the Internet.)
Work, then "training."
Instead of graciously allowing Theo and me to have some intimacy last night, Yuki decided to punish our sodomy by tearing up an entire box of Kleenex all over the house. Just because we took your sex drive away doesn't mean you can punish us for still having it.
In other news, the Chicago Tribune just announced that GEORGE W. BUSH is their candidate for president. How can this paradigmatic Chicago institution betray its state's Democratic identification and supporta candidate that most of its state doesn't? Oh, yeah, media deregulation. Duh. (Bastards--they no longer will serve as my "home page"--since Theo has had to have a NYT subscription for his class, I've fallen in love with the paper, and it will now greet me every time I access the Internet.)
Work, then "training."
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Old Hat
I've been ruminating about this old hat for several days, and I suppose it's time I try it on once again. I will spare you the long, drawn out melodrama that is my inner struggle with (etc. etc.), and instead will present you a detailed list of the banal undertakings with which I have preoccupied myself.
1. As of a few months ago, Theo and I (along with Allison, the singular exception to my friend-phobic syndrome) have been undertaking the odd, vulgar sport of bowling. Truly, I reserve my Sunday evenings for a piece of smoky, smelly, noisy sanctuary that is the bowling alley. And I adore it. Now, the three of us have a goal--to compete in the 2006 Gay Games in Chicago.
2. Theo and I, thanks to the Chicago International Film Festival, saw the premiere of Annette Bening's Being Julia. A film about an aging stage actress in the late 1930s, Being Julia tickled me pink. It wasn't until later that I realized it has a similar setup to Sunset Boulevard. Oh well. Ms. Bening was actually present for the screening, as she accepted an award for her dedication to "discovery." She's radiant. Theo and I will be attending a screening of The Polar Express next week, at which both Tom Hanks and Robert Zimeckis will be present.
3. While home this weekend, I "liberated" city property by removing a Bush/Cheney '04 sign from the easement of a street near my house. As the days progress, and the polls show a tighter and tighter race, I've begun preparing for the worst. I'm really not confident that Kerry will win (especially when, I've learned, a close friend simply cannot make up her mind between the two candidates). I know this will sound awful and harsh, but I cannot understand why one would support President Bush unless they are rich, or a conservative Christian, or ignorant. I think that the so-called "liberal media" has successfully presented a fair depiction of the devastation that is the war on Iraq, and if that, along with national security, is the lone issue on which people vote, the evidence is clear that George W. Bush is unable to succeed in either of these "wars." (I must stop now, even though I could write pages and pages regarding current world politics.)
4. In my creepy solitude, I've also taken up sewing. I'm getting weird.
5. I've seen many wonderful movies and read many wonderful books, but I won't bore you with reviews.
6. Yuki has successfully learned to both sit and shake--two feats I never thought I would see in her. I jsut had her groomed this week, and the apathetic groomer (I refuse to say where I went; it explains everything) trimmed her fur down to 1/2 inch or so. She looks like a real German Shepherd, which wasn't what I was going for. Worse yet, the groomer actually LISTENED to me when I said, "keep her tail kind of long." She didn't trim a hair off Yuki's tail; its rotund shape nearly dwarfs that of the rest of her body.
7. I've also become an eBay addict. But, that's pretty obvious--if you've been to eBay, you can understand what I mean.
8. I'm really getting into straight-leg jeans. I think they're fantastic. Hello, 80s. I also found a brilliant Harris Tweed (the highest-quality tweed ever) herringbone-patterned blazer at Village Discount Outlet a few weeks ago. The cost? $1.50.
9. My relationship with Theo has become a mutually satisfying endeavor; while we still bicker on occasion, I'm truly grateful for what I have, especially considering the awfulness other couples I've witnessed must deal with. (I suppose, though, that given the fact that he is the only person I even have to "open up" to now, I'm a bit jaded and rose-colored-eyeglassed. But that's still nice.)
I'm not sure when journaling here will become a habit again, but until that day comes, enjoy autumn.
I've been ruminating about this old hat for several days, and I suppose it's time I try it on once again. I will spare you the long, drawn out melodrama that is my inner struggle with (etc. etc.), and instead will present you a detailed list of the banal undertakings with which I have preoccupied myself.
1. As of a few months ago, Theo and I (along with Allison, the singular exception to my friend-phobic syndrome) have been undertaking the odd, vulgar sport of bowling. Truly, I reserve my Sunday evenings for a piece of smoky, smelly, noisy sanctuary that is the bowling alley. And I adore it. Now, the three of us have a goal--to compete in the 2006 Gay Games in Chicago.
2. Theo and I, thanks to the Chicago International Film Festival, saw the premiere of Annette Bening's Being Julia. A film about an aging stage actress in the late 1930s, Being Julia tickled me pink. It wasn't until later that I realized it has a similar setup to Sunset Boulevard. Oh well. Ms. Bening was actually present for the screening, as she accepted an award for her dedication to "discovery." She's radiant. Theo and I will be attending a screening of The Polar Express next week, at which both Tom Hanks and Robert Zimeckis will be present.
3. While home this weekend, I "liberated" city property by removing a Bush/Cheney '04 sign from the easement of a street near my house. As the days progress, and the polls show a tighter and tighter race, I've begun preparing for the worst. I'm really not confident that Kerry will win (especially when, I've learned, a close friend simply cannot make up her mind between the two candidates). I know this will sound awful and harsh, but I cannot understand why one would support President Bush unless they are rich, or a conservative Christian, or ignorant. I think that the so-called "liberal media" has successfully presented a fair depiction of the devastation that is the war on Iraq, and if that, along with national security, is the lone issue on which people vote, the evidence is clear that George W. Bush is unable to succeed in either of these "wars." (I must stop now, even though I could write pages and pages regarding current world politics.)
4. In my creepy solitude, I've also taken up sewing. I'm getting weird.
5. I've seen many wonderful movies and read many wonderful books, but I won't bore you with reviews.
6. Yuki has successfully learned to both sit and shake--two feats I never thought I would see in her. I jsut had her groomed this week, and the apathetic groomer (I refuse to say where I went; it explains everything) trimmed her fur down to 1/2 inch or so. She looks like a real German Shepherd, which wasn't what I was going for. Worse yet, the groomer actually LISTENED to me when I said, "keep her tail kind of long." She didn't trim a hair off Yuki's tail; its rotund shape nearly dwarfs that of the rest of her body.
7. I've also become an eBay addict. But, that's pretty obvious--if you've been to eBay, you can understand what I mean.
8. I'm really getting into straight-leg jeans. I think they're fantastic. Hello, 80s. I also found a brilliant Harris Tweed (the highest-quality tweed ever) herringbone-patterned blazer at Village Discount Outlet a few weeks ago. The cost? $1.50.
9. My relationship with Theo has become a mutually satisfying endeavor; while we still bicker on occasion, I'm truly grateful for what I have, especially considering the awfulness other couples I've witnessed must deal with. (I suppose, though, that given the fact that he is the only person I even have to "open up" to now, I'm a bit jaded and rose-colored-eyeglassed. But that's still nice.)
I'm not sure when journaling here will become a habit again, but until that day comes, enjoy autumn.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Freeformblah
Well, my summer has officially drawn to a close. True, I have something like 8 days until school begins again, but with the cool weather and the insane amount of work, I will no longer be allowed to have any fun for several months. I will actually be paid OVERTIME this week--how awful, that I've spent 43 hours of this week at Gap. That's almost two days of this week. I worked from 8AM-9PM a few days ago. I cannot do that again. My feet are killing me, because they were cramped in these cute pointy-ish-toed shoes all day. They're not pointy enough to regularly cause me pain, but because I put some inserts in to compensate for my rediculously high arches, there wasn't enough room for five toes in them. Then, after working eight hours tonight, I had to drive around with theo for two hours to find parking. Two hours. Two hours of the rest of my pseudo-summer were spent in a car, just so I could go home and pass out. And now he's watching some CNN shit, so I can't go to sleep because we've been sleeping with each other through this past week, and the television is right next to my bed, practically. Fuck.
Well, my summer has officially drawn to a close. True, I have something like 8 days until school begins again, but with the cool weather and the insane amount of work, I will no longer be allowed to have any fun for several months. I will actually be paid OVERTIME this week--how awful, that I've spent 43 hours of this week at Gap. That's almost two days of this week. I worked from 8AM-9PM a few days ago. I cannot do that again. My feet are killing me, because they were cramped in these cute pointy-ish-toed shoes all day. They're not pointy enough to regularly cause me pain, but because I put some inserts in to compensate for my rediculously high arches, there wasn't enough room for five toes in them. Then, after working eight hours tonight, I had to drive around with theo for two hours to find parking. Two hours. Two hours of the rest of my pseudo-summer were spent in a car, just so I could go home and pass out. And now he's watching some CNN shit, so I can't go to sleep because we've been sleeping with each other through this past week, and the television is right next to my bed, practically. Fuck.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Observations
So, Yuki is a Republican. And I'm fine with that, I suppose. I came home this afternoon to see that she had mauled my Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker. I mean, this thing was destroyed. Only an R could have done such damage. And I know I should be more upset, but it's alright--so whatif she doesnt want her fathers to marry? So what if she's a crazy Christian zealot? So what if she wants only the rich to flourish in the twisted capitalizm of our fine country? I still love her.
But...just in case she was rethinking her allegiance to the almighty W, I bought her an elephant chew toy. And, in the few hours I've left the two of them alone, it looks like she might be saved after all.
I spent my hours away from my socially-conservative dog and her (former?) political mascot viewing the film Garden State downtown. The one word I would use to describe this film is genuine. Natalie Portman's character was just so...real, and perfect, and reflective of so many humans in my life. Variety described the film as "piecemeal," but I would definitely disagree. Sure, the whole "enjoy life" theme may be a bit cliche, but the film really elegantly handled the overused mantra and used it to tie the seemingly unrelated elements of the film together. Aside from the story and acting, I really enjoyed the visual aspect of the film--lots of symmetry (I have a mild symmetry fetish) and well-orchestrated images. The soundtrack is also brilliant. Go see this film.
So, Yuki is a Republican. And I'm fine with that, I suppose. I came home this afternoon to see that she had mauled my Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker. I mean, this thing was destroyed. Only an R could have done such damage. And I know I should be more upset, but it's alright--so whatif she doesnt want her fathers to marry? So what if she's a crazy Christian zealot? So what if she wants only the rich to flourish in the twisted capitalizm of our fine country? I still love her.
But...just in case she was rethinking her allegiance to the almighty W, I bought her an elephant chew toy. And, in the few hours I've left the two of them alone, it looks like she might be saved after all.
I spent my hours away from my socially-conservative dog and her (former?) political mascot viewing the film Garden State downtown. The one word I would use to describe this film is genuine. Natalie Portman's character was just so...real, and perfect, and reflective of so many humans in my life. Variety described the film as "piecemeal," but I would definitely disagree. Sure, the whole "enjoy life" theme may be a bit cliche, but the film really elegantly handled the overused mantra and used it to tie the seemingly unrelated elements of the film together. Aside from the story and acting, I really enjoyed the visual aspect of the film--lots of symmetry (I have a mild symmetry fetish) and well-orchestrated images. The soundtrack is also brilliant. Go see this film.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
"Vacation" Pictures
So, instead of going on a real, far away family vacation, my parents had to buy a new furnace for their house, so we've just been doing things in and around Chicago. Here are some pictures from yesterday's North Side tour.
Yuki at Loyola Beach. Having never been to abeach before, she'd never experienced sand. Not only that, but she'd obviously never experienced land that met up with water--this theory was proven when, after chasing birds to the waterfront, she just bounded in to the lake, surprising herself and the rest of us.
Me, administering water to get the sand out of her mouth, which you can see in picture one.
Three generations of Solems, on the Loyola campus.
So, instead of going on a real, far away family vacation, my parents had to buy a new furnace for their house, so we've just been doing things in and around Chicago. Here are some pictures from yesterday's North Side tour.
Yuki at Loyola Beach. Having never been to abeach before, she'd never experienced sand. Not only that, but she'd obviously never experienced land that met up with water--this theory was proven when, after chasing birds to the waterfront, she just bounded in to the lake, surprising herself and the rest of us.
Me, administering water to get the sand out of her mouth, which you can see in picture one.
Three generations of Solems, on the Loyola campus.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
"BTW"
So, I officially live in the ghetto--both in the traditional sense of a community strung together by a common social category, and in the contemporary sense of a community riddled with crime and other ickiness. Besides the brutal murders that have occured within the past year (three and counting), the suicide that happened yesterday right next to my old apartment building, now my own building has been uncovered as a drug house. My downstairs-across-the-hall neighbor was arrested a few weeks ago for (what I gather from the patchwork of gossip) selling crystal meth out of his apartment.
Theo came home, dog in tow, to find a swarm of "police cops" in our stairwell, in front of to battered-down door of our otherwise-reclusive neighbor Eddie. He was carted away to jail (and promptly evicted because of the insistence of my upstairs neightbor, the prude hypocrite), and we've been surveyed not-so-subtlely ever since, by burly "undercover" officers wearing oh-so-discreet Sox jerseys. (Note: I live a stone's throw away from Wrigley Field; Sox jerseys are ritually burned here, with or without their person still inside.)
Then, tonight, yet ANOTHER alleged bust took place, hearladed by police cars, man-looking women, and two skinny young guys oddly handcuffed to each other. I'm getting tired of feeling like I live in...well, Chicago. I suppose it goes with the terrain, though.
So, I officially live in the ghetto--both in the traditional sense of a community strung together by a common social category, and in the contemporary sense of a community riddled with crime and other ickiness. Besides the brutal murders that have occured within the past year (three and counting), the suicide that happened yesterday right next to my old apartment building, now my own building has been uncovered as a drug house. My downstairs-across-the-hall neighbor was arrested a few weeks ago for (what I gather from the patchwork of gossip) selling crystal meth out of his apartment.
Theo came home, dog in tow, to find a swarm of "police cops" in our stairwell, in front of to battered-down door of our otherwise-reclusive neighbor Eddie. He was carted away to jail (and promptly evicted because of the insistence of my upstairs neightbor, the prude hypocrite), and we've been surveyed not-so-subtlely ever since, by burly "undercover" officers wearing oh-so-discreet Sox jerseys. (Note: I live a stone's throw away from Wrigley Field; Sox jerseys are ritually burned here, with or without their person still inside.)
Then, tonight, yet ANOTHER alleged bust took place, hearladed by police cars, man-looking women, and two skinny young guys oddly handcuffed to each other. I'm getting tired of feeling like I live in...well, Chicago. I suppose it goes with the terrain, though.
Difference/Indifference
I received a substantial raise today. I mean, like a really really substantial raise. Like, I could live semi-comfortably on this pay now in Chicago if I worked full time at Gap. Not that I'm going to do that, but it's big enough to make my checking account sublimely happy.
It's Market Days weekend again--and I'm feeling really indifferent about it. After last year's debacle, when the actual setup of the streetfest kept me up all night long, and I ate breakfast with a violent homeless man the morning after, I'm wishing I was just out of town for the whole thing. Basically, Market Days is just another weekend for my fellow gays to get drunk and shirtless and obnoxious, and buy things like rainbow boas and earthy lesbian jewelry. Oh well--hopefully Allison et.al. will spice it up.
Do you want the code for this weekend's Friends and Family days? If so, contact me.
I received a substantial raise today. I mean, like a really really substantial raise. Like, I could live semi-comfortably on this pay now in Chicago if I worked full time at Gap. Not that I'm going to do that, but it's big enough to make my checking account sublimely happy.
It's Market Days weekend again--and I'm feeling really indifferent about it. After last year's debacle, when the actual setup of the streetfest kept me up all night long, and I ate breakfast with a violent homeless man the morning after, I'm wishing I was just out of town for the whole thing. Basically, Market Days is just another weekend for my fellow gays to get drunk and shirtless and obnoxious, and buy things like rainbow boas and earthy lesbian jewelry. Oh well--hopefully Allison et.al. will spice it up.
Do you want the code for this weekend's Friends and Family days? If so, contact me.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Straight Music
In high school, when somehow I was even more insecure than I am now, I would actually create CD playlists to further purport my veil of heterosexuality. I used what I'll call "straight music" to reassure myself and others that I held "normal" music tastes. Back then, a burned of mine CD might have started off with 311, Blink-182, or some other popular, mainstream rock band who targeted the 18-29 male population. I didn't dislike these songs, per se, but I certainly didn't listen to them when I was alone in my car. For some reason, I've recently become reattached to some "straight" songs. Really mainstream songs that would probably be considered "overplayed" or "soooo last month," but new to me because I don't listen to popular radio or watch MTV.
Does this suggest something? Am I subconsciously slipping into my old ways--creating a character for me to play, so that I don't have to deal with what's really going on with the actor behind it? I don't know.
I've also proven just how cynical I am. Apparently, some guy I work with (who's always been really really really creepy with me, in that touching-me-saying-awkward-complementary-things-to-me way) has some mad gastro-intestinal issues, which prevent him from controlling his gas. Well, he's apparently also working at Gap while on disability (illegal?), and has recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and kidney troubles. I didn't even believe it for a minute when someone was telling me, and had no real interest in even supposing it might be ue. Do you normal humans have another reaction when issues of this nature are presented to you? I'm assuming so.
I've started reading Cyndi's journal again, after losing the link to her journal when my computer crashed. Her writing has become a bit of an indulgence for me--it just enthralls me and makes me feel weird inside.
And I feel really guilty about everyone I abandon and pick up again as friends. Why do I do this? I mean, this relationship pattern is an obvious alternative for some people for whom I care less about. But Erin? I just don't get it. Nothing at all. Joe? And let's not even get started on how much of an asshole I've been to Zoe. But, I suppose, unless you are one of these people, this means nothing to you, which means it means nothing to me, since me and my "straight songs" exist to serve everyone but me.
In high school, when somehow I was even more insecure than I am now, I would actually create CD playlists to further purport my veil of heterosexuality. I used what I'll call "straight music" to reassure myself and others that I held "normal" music tastes. Back then, a burned of mine CD might have started off with 311, Blink-182, or some other popular, mainstream rock band who targeted the 18-29 male population. I didn't dislike these songs, per se, but I certainly didn't listen to them when I was alone in my car. For some reason, I've recently become reattached to some "straight" songs. Really mainstream songs that would probably be considered "overplayed" or "soooo last month," but new to me because I don't listen to popular radio or watch MTV.
Does this suggest something? Am I subconsciously slipping into my old ways--creating a character for me to play, so that I don't have to deal with what's really going on with the actor behind it? I don't know.
I've also proven just how cynical I am. Apparently, some guy I work with (who's always been really really really creepy with me, in that touching-me-saying-awkward-complementary-things-to-me way) has some mad gastro-intestinal issues, which prevent him from controlling his gas. Well, he's apparently also working at Gap while on disability (illegal?), and has recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and kidney troubles. I didn't even believe it for a minute when someone was telling me, and had no real interest in even supposing it might be ue. Do you normal humans have another reaction when issues of this nature are presented to you? I'm assuming so.
I've started reading Cyndi's journal again, after losing the link to her journal when my computer crashed. Her writing has become a bit of an indulgence for me--it just enthralls me and makes me feel weird inside.
And I feel really guilty about everyone I abandon and pick up again as friends. Why do I do this? I mean, this relationship pattern is an obvious alternative for some people for whom I care less about. But Erin? I just don't get it. Nothing at all. Joe? And let's not even get started on how much of an asshole I've been to Zoe. But, I suppose, unless you are one of these people, this means nothing to you, which means it means nothing to me, since me and my "straight songs" exist to serve everyone but me.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Showered and Shaved Before Noon?
I'm deeply involved in season two of Six Feet Under, now out on DVD. That's what I've been spending my free time watching.
My poor, ugly car is broken again. As I drove into the city for the unpteenth time this week, all electrical functions in my car flickered and stopped working. Then, my battery's meter slipped into uncharted territories, and soon after, my car would not move forward. Luckily, I pulled off of heavily-trafficked Lawrence into a residential area. My alternator, it seems, decided to go on strike. THEN...after receiving a rediculous estimate of $600 for the replacement job--apparently, an alternator's average price is only $120, while the fucks at Midas wanted to charge me $300--my father decided that he and I coudl fix it ourselves. SO...I drove out to the suburbs once again, and after taking apart my engine, he and I realized that we had no idea what we were doing. The last time my father had fixed an alternator was thirty years ago. So, now it has to be towed to Sears.
As the previous anecdote reveals, my life is really quite boring right now. I just spent two minutes of my life typing about an ALTERNATOR. What is wrong with me?
I'm deeply involved in season two of Six Feet Under, now out on DVD. That's what I've been spending my free time watching.
My poor, ugly car is broken again. As I drove into the city for the unpteenth time this week, all electrical functions in my car flickered and stopped working. Then, my battery's meter slipped into uncharted territories, and soon after, my car would not move forward. Luckily, I pulled off of heavily-trafficked Lawrence into a residential area. My alternator, it seems, decided to go on strike. THEN...after receiving a rediculous estimate of $600 for the replacement job--apparently, an alternator's average price is only $120, while the fucks at Midas wanted to charge me $300--my father decided that he and I coudl fix it ourselves. SO...I drove out to the suburbs once again, and after taking apart my engine, he and I realized that we had no idea what we were doing. The last time my father had fixed an alternator was thirty years ago. So, now it has to be towed to Sears.
As the previous anecdote reveals, my life is really quite boring right now. I just spent two minutes of my life typing about an ALTERNATOR. What is wrong with me?
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Wedding Prettiness and Related Atrocity
Lauren and Noah's wedding was a success. The bride looked stunning. I will post pictures eventually. Perhaps.
In related news, a certain character in the Wedding Play has a sour case of homophobia that inappropriately revealed itself to my mother and a hotel room full of Rs. I've thought about it, cried about it, and it's over. Nothing to be done.
Shannno and I didn't go to sleep until 6AM this morning, and woke up not long thereafter for Lauren's post-wedding brunch, so I am ready to pass out.
Lauren and Noah's wedding was a success. The bride looked stunning. I will post pictures eventually. Perhaps.
In related news, a certain character in the Wedding Play has a sour case of homophobia that inappropriately revealed itself to my mother and a hotel room full of Rs. I've thought about it, cried about it, and it's over. Nothing to be done.
Shannno and I didn't go to sleep until 6AM this morning, and woke up not long thereafter for Lauren's post-wedding brunch, so I am ready to pass out.
Sunday, July 11, 2004
The Bell Doesn't Toll For Thee
How depressing--to be the groomsman in one of my best friend's wedding just as the Senate begins debating the Federal Marriage Amendment. This week, depending on what happens in DC, could be very awkward.
I went to Lauren's bachelorette party last night, which featured the most powerful Cosmos in the cosmos, a "sex toy" Tupperware-style party segment, where a woman came and sold us "erotic supplies" (Anal Eze = lidocaine for one's ass...nasty), and a barrage of BFF-ing. I'm quite excited about next weekend, but will miss Laurne McLaurne when she moves to New York (temporarily) with Noah.
In other news, the successes of the summer include mending my finances, the Pink Party, and my summer class, while the failures include my job, the second summer session class that I'm not taking but am still registered for, a fraudulent seller on eBay who has my money, and being a god friend unilaterally.
Yawn. Work on a Sunday. A hungover Sunday.
How depressing--to be the groomsman in one of my best friend's wedding just as the Senate begins debating the Federal Marriage Amendment. This week, depending on what happens in DC, could be very awkward.
I went to Lauren's bachelorette party last night, which featured the most powerful Cosmos in the cosmos, a "sex toy" Tupperware-style party segment, where a woman came and sold us "erotic supplies" (Anal Eze = lidocaine for one's ass...nasty), and a barrage of BFF-ing. I'm quite excited about next weekend, but will miss Laurne McLaurne when she moves to New York (temporarily) with Noah.
In other news, the successes of the summer include mending my finances, the Pink Party, and my summer class, while the failures include my job, the second summer session class that I'm not taking but am still registered for, a fraudulent seller on eBay who has my money, and being a god friend unilaterally.
Yawn. Work on a Sunday. A hungover Sunday.
Monday, June 21, 2004
The Pink Party
Theo and I are co-hosting a Pink Party along with Allison (who must be credited with the idea of having a party in the first place). To celebrate the illustrious Pride weekend, we insist that you wear some sort of pink, so that you can match the food and mood of the party. We'll be serving hors d'oeuvres and cocktails from 8:00 on, until you pass out or get bored. It'll be on Friday, June 25. Who's invited?
1. You, if I like you/know you.
2. Your friends, if you like/know them.
Call my cell phone or E-mail me (Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com) if you'd like to come and want directions.
A more thorough update will ensue once I don't have an obnoxious test to study for.
Theo and I are co-hosting a Pink Party along with Allison (who must be credited with the idea of having a party in the first place). To celebrate the illustrious Pride weekend, we insist that you wear some sort of pink, so that you can match the food and mood of the party. We'll be serving hors d'oeuvres and cocktails from 8:00 on, until you pass out or get bored. It'll be on Friday, June 25. Who's invited?
1. You, if I like you/know you.
2. Your friends, if you like/know them.
Call my cell phone or E-mail me (Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com) if you'd like to come and want directions.
A more thorough update will ensue once I don't have an obnoxious test to study for.
Friday, June 04, 2004
King David
Theo, Allison, and I saw David Sedaris read tonight at my favorite bookstore, Unabridged. Well...we didn't actually see him read. We got there too late due in large part to a fight Theo and I had this morning, but we heard him and it was mostly alright. He read one of my least favorite stories from his new collection, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, "Blood Work," and a few entries from his journal. Between two of his entires, he practically flipped out due to people taking his picture. It wasn't very pleasant. He later apologized, and I still was left with an unpleasant feeling in my stomach.
I then waited in line for two hours to have the Mr. Sedaris sign my copy of the aforementioned book. After spending the two long hours of waiting trying to figure out something interesting to say or an insightful question to ask him, I came up with a whole bunch of nothing. Finally, when it was my turn to address him, I asked, "So, is Hugh with you on this tour?" He lowered his voice, and sullenly said, "Um...Hugh and I broke up a few months ago...Yeah..."
Of course, I felt absolutely horrible. I didn't feel horrible about the fact that they broke up, like a NORMAL person would. Rather, I felt bad because I felt like I should have known that, like there was a story in his book that I skipped over or something. Instead of feeling like a bad human, I felt like a failed fanatic.
Then, he laughed, and said, "Oh, I'm just kidding. Hugh just doesn't like these book tours, because there's nothing for him to do. He'll be coming with me on a tour in Germany, though." Fooled by the great man himself. How perfect--and what a great payoff for waiting two hours to see him.
David Sedaris's book, however, is not so great. It's pretty much hit-and-miss. There are a few selections--"The Girl Next Door," "Nuit of the Living Dead," "Forgive Me," and the two stories about his brother--that I absolutely adore and am about to reread, but everything elase lacks direction and purpose. Sometimes, as Allison accurately pointed out, he tacks on these didactic, moralistic endings to otherwise alright stories that ruin the piece. I still think that Me Talk Pretty... is my favorite, but a few selections in his latest will remain in my mind for quite some time.
Theo, Allison, and I saw David Sedaris read tonight at my favorite bookstore, Unabridged. Well...we didn't actually see him read. We got there too late due in large part to a fight Theo and I had this morning, but we heard him and it was mostly alright. He read one of my least favorite stories from his new collection, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, "Blood Work," and a few entries from his journal. Between two of his entires, he practically flipped out due to people taking his picture. It wasn't very pleasant. He later apologized, and I still was left with an unpleasant feeling in my stomach.
I then waited in line for two hours to have the Mr. Sedaris sign my copy of the aforementioned book. After spending the two long hours of waiting trying to figure out something interesting to say or an insightful question to ask him, I came up with a whole bunch of nothing. Finally, when it was my turn to address him, I asked, "So, is Hugh with you on this tour?" He lowered his voice, and sullenly said, "Um...Hugh and I broke up a few months ago...Yeah..."
Of course, I felt absolutely horrible. I didn't feel horrible about the fact that they broke up, like a NORMAL person would. Rather, I felt bad because I felt like I should have known that, like there was a story in his book that I skipped over or something. Instead of feeling like a bad human, I felt like a failed fanatic.
Then, he laughed, and said, "Oh, I'm just kidding. Hugh just doesn't like these book tours, because there's nothing for him to do. He'll be coming with me on a tour in Germany, though." Fooled by the great man himself. How perfect--and what a great payoff for waiting two hours to see him.
David Sedaris's book, however, is not so great. It's pretty much hit-and-miss. There are a few selections--"The Girl Next Door," "Nuit of the Living Dead," "Forgive Me," and the two stories about his brother--that I absolutely adore and am about to reread, but everything elase lacks direction and purpose. Sometimes, as Allison accurately pointed out, he tacks on these didactic, moralistic endings to otherwise alright stories that ruin the piece. I still think that Me Talk Pretty... is my favorite, but a few selections in his latest will remain in my mind for quite some time.
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Movie of the Week
Saved! is just brilliant. Criticism of Christianity--especially in America--is commonly something that filmmakers (and large media corporations) shy away from, but this film accurately and successfully parodized both the Willow Creek-style belief-less attitude many churches have, and the inane right-wing fundamentalist virus that has crept into politics. And it was cuuuute too! I like Patrick Fugit. But I LOVE Jena Malone.
IKEA fieldtrip tomorrow!
Saved! is just brilliant. Criticism of Christianity--especially in America--is commonly something that filmmakers (and large media corporations) shy away from, but this film accurately and successfully parodized both the Willow Creek-style belief-less attitude many churches have, and the inane right-wing fundamentalist virus that has crept into politics. And it was cuuuute too! I like Patrick Fugit. But I LOVE Jena Malone.
IKEA fieldtrip tomorrow!
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Clueless
I just returned from a brief sojourn in suburbia to see my high school's production of "Clue." What's that, you say? There's a stage version of that film I fell in love with so long ago? Nay, nay. They simply ILLEGALLY printed the film script off some internet source and staged it. Hm.
Now, knowing full well that some Jacobs people read this, I'll be nice. And truly, the brunt of my issues with the show stem from the fact that I COULDN'T HEAR IT. I think (and had I been elected drama club pres. my senior year, this was my main goal...but, who wanted to elect a fag to be president of drama club? that's positively unheard of.) that some sort of parentally-run booster club MUST be erected, so that the theater program can succumb to a much-needed rehabilitation. If there were a booster club on the level of Vocal-Strings or whatnot, a new sound system (A MUST) could be purchased, more money could be spent on costuming, sets, PUBLICITY (I could have spat on the entire audience in one fell loogie, it was so minute) and lighting, and perhaps the school could put on a play that they'd BOUGHT THE RIGHTS TO. Otherwise, the show was alright. Just a poor show to pick, I think. But talent-wise, it was alright.
Another blah weekend. I work all day and all night tomorrow, and I have an 8AM meeting on Sunday. Rumor has it Zoe's in town, which is frustrating because I have no time to spend with her. Luckily, i have several events to look forward to in June: David Sedaris on the 4th, Rufus sometime in the middle of the month, and pride at the end. And my superexciting Af-Am history and politics class.
'Tis all.
I just returned from a brief sojourn in suburbia to see my high school's production of "Clue." What's that, you say? There's a stage version of that film I fell in love with so long ago? Nay, nay. They simply ILLEGALLY printed the film script off some internet source and staged it. Hm.
Now, knowing full well that some Jacobs people read this, I'll be nice. And truly, the brunt of my issues with the show stem from the fact that I COULDN'T HEAR IT. I think (and had I been elected drama club pres. my senior year, this was my main goal...but, who wanted to elect a fag to be president of drama club? that's positively unheard of.) that some sort of parentally-run booster club MUST be erected, so that the theater program can succumb to a much-needed rehabilitation. If there were a booster club on the level of Vocal-Strings or whatnot, a new sound system (A MUST) could be purchased, more money could be spent on costuming, sets, PUBLICITY (I could have spat on the entire audience in one fell loogie, it was so minute) and lighting, and perhaps the school could put on a play that they'd BOUGHT THE RIGHTS TO. Otherwise, the show was alright. Just a poor show to pick, I think. But talent-wise, it was alright.
Another blah weekend. I work all day and all night tomorrow, and I have an 8AM meeting on Sunday. Rumor has it Zoe's in town, which is frustrating because I have no time to spend with her. Luckily, i have several events to look forward to in June: David Sedaris on the 4th, Rufus sometime in the middle of the month, and pride at the end. And my superexciting Af-Am history and politics class.
'Tis all.