Oh holla. Damn swell holla. I actually slept last night, and it was fantastic, particularly since I was in a different bed…but you don’t want to read about that do you? Exactly. If there’s one thing I know about Duganz at 23 it’s that my readership, while amused at my romantic life, doesn’t need constant updates…
Ah to hell with it…
I’m seeing someone. Yes, her name has appeared on the blog, but instead of just pointing you toward her name I think you should read through and find it on your own. Hint: It all started with a pig named Mortimina.
Today I did some more job searching after noticing that the masthead of the Indy still lists me as staff (I’m having trouble letting go myself). The job: postal worker. The benefits alone make it worthwhile, but add in the salary – $57,000 – and I start to care less and less about my degree. That kind of cash would help me pay my college debt off, and that’s a happy thought indeed.
Outside of that I put in time with the classifieds looking for jobs I’d like. The outcome? Not many. But I’m in no rush as of now. I’ve got a sizable check coming from Uncle Sam because of my loyal tax paying throughout the year, and that’ll keep me afloat for some time more.
Tonight while I watched John down some McDonald’s (known for its organic food) I caught a clip of Bill O’Reilly comparing the Huffington Post to Nazi-Germany propaganda…and I died a little inside. One of his readers felt outraged because they’d lost family to the Holocaust, and didn’t see the similarities. Oh, but Bill did.
“The blogs use the same tactics as the Nazis did,” he opined. I nearly vomited.
Apparently Bill took offense to a post stating that Nancy Reagan deserved a painful death. I haven’t bothered looking it up, nor will I because I don’t care enough to follow O’Reilly’s stupidity to its source.
While wishing Nancy Reagan a painful death seems a bit stupid, it’s nothing like Nazi propaganda, or hatred. Not even a little bit. Not one smidgen. Nope. None. Nothing. Nothing at all. And he’s an asshole for saying it is.
The Huffington Post isn’t trying to exterminate Nancy Reagan, or all people like Nancy Reagan. In fact, it’s merely the opinion of the author. But he doesn’t care about these “facts.” At all. God he annoys me.
Anyway, to wash that bad taste from my mouth I thought I’d bring up something that I like, the book The Little Prince.
I figure everyone’s read it, but if you haven’t this is a link to a free online version of the Katherine Woods translation, which I think is the best version. If you watched Bill O’Reilly’s foolishness I’d check this out to make yourself feel a little better.
As for me, I’m reading it to a girl. And that's a lot better than watching The O'Reilly Factor... Or John eat McDonald's.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Day 44: I don't know about Karf
My buddy Karf (brother of Tom Fite of Tomfite.com) lived for about a year without a job, and kept most of his sanity. Today I asked him how he did it because honestly I am starting to get bored.
"I'm incredibly lazy," he told me.
Okay...well, shit. I'm lazy, but not entirely lazy. Of course Karf was being facetious about his unemployed year, but he brings up a good point. Essentially you have to come to a place where you're secure in doing nothing. Boredom must be something not to fear, but to embrace.
I can't do it. I fidget. I talk to much. I need stimulus.
So I took Karf to lunch today to waste some time. Done and done we took a walk around downtown where I learned some bad news. Muse Comics' downtown branch is moving back to it's main location. Totally lame if you ask me. The downtown shop featured a small and friendly atmosphere for my comic needs, and I liked it more than the larger store.
Guess it doesn't matter anymore so I'll just move on. And by that I mean that I'll end this post. Holla.
"I'm incredibly lazy," he told me.
Okay...well, shit. I'm lazy, but not entirely lazy. Of course Karf was being facetious about his unemployed year, but he brings up a good point. Essentially you have to come to a place where you're secure in doing nothing. Boredom must be something not to fear, but to embrace.
I can't do it. I fidget. I talk to much. I need stimulus.
So I took Karf to lunch today to waste some time. Done and done we took a walk around downtown where I learned some bad news. Muse Comics' downtown branch is moving back to it's main location. Totally lame if you ask me. The downtown shop featured a small and friendly atmosphere for my comic needs, and I liked it more than the larger store.
Guess it doesn't matter anymore so I'll just move on. And by that I mean that I'll end this post. Holla.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Day 43: Not as tired…kind of
I got more sleep last night, a staggering five hours! Yeah! What a great night of sleep.
Now on to the question on every readers mind: Why have I been losing sleep lately?
Am I going through Indy withdrawals? Am I so bored during the day that I’ve done absolutely nothing and thus am not at all tired? Newly found meth addiction?
No, no, and no.
Actually I’ve just been hanging out having some long – very long actually – conversations with a certain person, who I will call CP. CP and I have only hung out a few times, but each time it’s been for about eight hours, and entire workday of just talking about whatever. I told her about Dan (Dave?) this guy who couldn’t man up for an afternoon and be a pallbearer for my uncle leaving me to do the task, and sob in front of my family. She told me about plenty of non-Duganz related events, which means I’ll leave them off the blog.
Most of the time if I spend more than five hours with a girl I find interesting I search for the “in” moment when I can do the whole romantic lean in/drunken move, that says “I am all that is man,” and yet also says, “please don’t be offended that I kissed you.” But with this girl all I’ve managed is to talk, talk, and talk. I swear. By the time I even have the thought, “hey, is this supposed to be something I pursue in a more romantic manner?” I realize its 4 a.m. and I’m too tired to bother.
This makes me feel weird.
I’m not trying to sound like some womanizer; it’s just that most of the time I don’t spend 16 hours over the course of two pseudo-dates just talking (we never declared them as anything with a purpose so I didn’t go in looking for much of anything). Usually there’s something telling me to do more than just talk. But not in this case. All I’ve wanted to do is talk. I’ve wanted questions answered. I’ve wanted to just know stuff. And this isn’t even about dating, or wanting to date. It just had to do with getting to know this girl.
To some people this probably sounds good or better than my past experiences in knowing women, which range from
And
Being in a situation that just demands the opposite, one that encourages knowing this girl as a friend before even acknowledging small flirtations, it’s, well, much, much better. Much less stressful too. It makes me kind of regret any form of dating women, or even knowing women, that I’ve tried before.
So tonight CP and I are supposed to hang out again…I’m bringing meth… or at least caffeine pills.
I’m so excited. I’m so excited. I’m so…scared Zach.
Or maybe not…
Now on to the question on every readers mind: Why have I been losing sleep lately?
Am I going through Indy withdrawals? Am I so bored during the day that I’ve done absolutely nothing and thus am not at all tired? Newly found meth addiction?
No, no, and no.
Actually I’ve just been hanging out having some long – very long actually – conversations with a certain person, who I will call CP. CP and I have only hung out a few times, but each time it’s been for about eight hours, and entire workday of just talking about whatever. I told her about Dan (Dave?) this guy who couldn’t man up for an afternoon and be a pallbearer for my uncle leaving me to do the task, and sob in front of my family. She told me about plenty of non-Duganz related events, which means I’ll leave them off the blog.
Most of the time if I spend more than five hours with a girl I find interesting I search for the “in” moment when I can do the whole romantic lean in/drunken move, that says “I am all that is man,” and yet also says, “please don’t be offended that I kissed you.” But with this girl all I’ve managed is to talk, talk, and talk. I swear. By the time I even have the thought, “hey, is this supposed to be something I pursue in a more romantic manner?” I realize its 4 a.m. and I’m too tired to bother.
This makes me feel weird.
I’m not trying to sound like some womanizer; it’s just that most of the time I don’t spend 16 hours over the course of two pseudo-dates just talking (we never declared them as anything with a purpose so I didn’t go in looking for much of anything). Usually there’s something telling me to do more than just talk. But not in this case. All I’ve wanted to do is talk. I’ve wanted questions answered. I’ve wanted to just know stuff. And this isn’t even about dating, or wanting to date. It just had to do with getting to know this girl.
To some people this probably sounds good or better than my past experiences in knowing women, which range from
Her to me: You should come home with – hic – me.
Me to her: Okay…are you feeling all right?
Her to me: [vomits]
And
Me to her: So…I, uh…Yeah. Hi. I said hello before didn’t I. Well hello again. Remember in Jerry MacGuire? “You had me at hello.” Yeah. So…I’m nervous. Do you ever get nervous? I get nervous. One time this girl wanted to take me home and she vomited on my shoes.
Her to me: I sort of like you.
Me to her: Okay…are you feeling all right?
Being in a situation that just demands the opposite, one that encourages knowing this girl as a friend before even acknowledging small flirtations, it’s, well, much, much better. Much less stressful too. It makes me kind of regret any form of dating women, or even knowing women, that I’ve tried before.
So tonight CP and I are supposed to hang out again…I’m bringing meth… or at least caffeine pills.
I’m so excited. I’m so excited. I’m so…scared Zach.
Or maybe not…
Monday, February 25, 2008
Day 42: I am too tired
Okay, so I stayed up way to late last night, which is a story I'll get into in tomorrow's post because right now I just want to sleep. Why am I posting so late? Because I went to the Council meeting tonight for a possible story in this week's Indy. I've slept an hour and a half since 8 a.m. Sunday...totally sucks. Goodnight.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Days 39, 40, and 41: The Helena Weekend
The Helena trip extended itself from just Friday, to the whole weekend. Hilarity ensued
Friday night I missed the Good Neighbor Policy to scope out John’s Dad’s band Running on Empty, a Bozeman-based cover band. They played in the H-town Civic Center, which has to be one of the oddest buildings I’ve ever been in. Huge stage, chandeliers, and tons of older folk, but good times nonetheless.
Bill, Sean, John and I acted out the role of roadies, though not until after the guys finished up at about 1 a.m. Between 9 and that time the four of us had some drinks, some dances with the groupies traveling with the band (their “wives” we were told), and watched the funniest thing in the world: Open Shirt Man (OSM).
OSM came to us with a sad tale. Apparently after 22 years of marriage he learned that his wife had had a boyfriend of 25 years. Totally lame, but I doubt its authenticity. The only obviously factual aspect of OSM came from his willingness to be the King Tool of the night by grabbing at the asses of the groupies, which their husbands could spy from their spot up on the stage.
The best way to describe OSM is a mixture of Colin Farrell and John Goodman – a big sack of hair and bad flopped into a white frat boy shirt with a crucifix on a chain. John, however, thinks the guy was going for a Tim McGraw look (He missed it). I cannot describe what a huge tool this guy was. The kind of guy I sometimes find myself fearful of becoming when I’m awake late at night.
I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of it again as I could wake up every day, suck a little more, and never equal the terribleness of OSM.
Though I missed hitting the Badlander and getting some much needed time with GNP and others, I at least got to see this guy…well, John’s Dad described it best on Saturday morning while sitting in the hot tub:
Exactly. Truly amazing man. He had the rhythm of a white guy with the stolen moves of a Kris Kross video. It was like watching that footage of nuclear tests…just a big mushroom cloud and an expanding wave of bad. It’s how I imagine hell, but with less Christian overtones.
Whenever OSM asked for the hand of one of the groupies the ladies were too nice to turn him down, mostly because I think they bought his sob story. As he’d lead them to the dance floor, his sweaty body rippling with joy, they’d glance back and give a look at the group like, “HELP!” One of the groupies, tired of my guffaws at her pain hauled off and slapped me for my insolence, but it was a nice slap.
Though we grabbed a few pictures of OSM, they can’t do the man justice. His badness permeated every bit of his existence, and while a picture tells a thousand words, you’d need at least a book to tell his tale.
On the ride home to John’s cabin on Canyon Ferry he and I had a long talk about OSM, about aging and having everything in your life change. We noted that if OSM’s story was true, and that he had lost his wife after 22 years, that sucks and we could only pity him. For OSM life used to be couples and work, now it’s being that single guy who needs to crate his own good time or fall to the ravages of loathing. Sad. Depressing. We vowed never to turn out like him, and like I said earlier, I think it’s near impossible to actual become as lame as OSM.
Running on Empty played a pretty good set of covers that got the people moving and grooving to the hits of the sixties, and it raised a lot of money for a local charity. So in the end the night was worth it even though I missed GNP (Alisia took some pictures and sent me a few texts reminding me of how badass the band is…she’s kind of mean like that). Laughs and tunes will always be worth the ride.
Plus I got free chicken Parmesan courtesy of John’s Dad…who’s name is John also.
Saturday was different altogether….
Instead of going out we all just hung around John’s cabin hot tubbing and drinking beer, especially Bill. Some of his better (worse?) moments from the night:
Some of his friends who live in Helena came up to enjoy the cabin as well, though honestly we didn’t talk a whole bunch even though we were sitting around a lot. At least it didn’t feel like a long time talking. Maybe it was. As far as Bill’s huge amount of booze, I blame myself. I encouraged him to drink a six-pack in a hot tub and didn’t stop him from drinking an awful lot of bourbon. But he seemed in good spirits this morning.
For all the time I spent in the hot tub this weekend, maybe about 6 hours total, my shoulder hurt a whole damn bunch. And I’m tired from the whole trip since we didn’t sleep nearly enough. This would bother me if it weren’t for the whole unemployed thing.
Today Sean, John, Bill and I all had brunch at our friend Sarah’s house. She made a huge amount of food and we ate way too much of it, but she and her husband seemed happy to have the company. I guess Helena isn’t a huge amount of fun when you’re young, which is why four dirty idiots grubbing at your pad seems like a treat.
But it was fun and we had some laughs. Then it was just a long ride back to Zootown (Holla), and my bed, which is where I am headed until a little later tonight when last night’s movie watching plans can actually happen. Should be fun. I’ll see you tomorrow kids.
Friday night I missed the Good Neighbor Policy to scope out John’s Dad’s band Running on Empty, a Bozeman-based cover band. They played in the H-town Civic Center, which has to be one of the oddest buildings I’ve ever been in. Huge stage, chandeliers, and tons of older folk, but good times nonetheless.
Bill, Sean, John and I acted out the role of roadies, though not until after the guys finished up at about 1 a.m. Between 9 and that time the four of us had some drinks, some dances with the groupies traveling with the band (their “wives” we were told), and watched the funniest thing in the world: Open Shirt Man (OSM).
OSM came to us with a sad tale. Apparently after 22 years of marriage he learned that his wife had had a boyfriend of 25 years. Totally lame, but I doubt its authenticity. The only obviously factual aspect of OSM came from his willingness to be the King Tool of the night by grabbing at the asses of the groupies, which their husbands could spy from their spot up on the stage.
The best way to describe OSM is a mixture of Colin Farrell and John Goodman – a big sack of hair and bad flopped into a white frat boy shirt with a crucifix on a chain. John, however, thinks the guy was going for a Tim McGraw look (He missed it). I cannot describe what a huge tool this guy was. The kind of guy I sometimes find myself fearful of becoming when I’m awake late at night.
I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of it again as I could wake up every day, suck a little more, and never equal the terribleness of OSM.
Though I missed hitting the Badlander and getting some much needed time with GNP and others, I at least got to see this guy…well, John’s Dad described it best on Saturday morning while sitting in the hot tub:
“I saw him from the stage and I was just amazed.”
Exactly. Truly amazing man. He had the rhythm of a white guy with the stolen moves of a Kris Kross video. It was like watching that footage of nuclear tests…just a big mushroom cloud and an expanding wave of bad. It’s how I imagine hell, but with less Christian overtones.
Whenever OSM asked for the hand of one of the groupies the ladies were too nice to turn him down, mostly because I think they bought his sob story. As he’d lead them to the dance floor, his sweaty body rippling with joy, they’d glance back and give a look at the group like, “HELP!” One of the groupies, tired of my guffaws at her pain hauled off and slapped me for my insolence, but it was a nice slap.
Though we grabbed a few pictures of OSM, they can’t do the man justice. His badness permeated every bit of his existence, and while a picture tells a thousand words, you’d need at least a book to tell his tale.
On the ride home to John’s cabin on Canyon Ferry he and I had a long talk about OSM, about aging and having everything in your life change. We noted that if OSM’s story was true, and that he had lost his wife after 22 years, that sucks and we could only pity him. For OSM life used to be couples and work, now it’s being that single guy who needs to crate his own good time or fall to the ravages of loathing. Sad. Depressing. We vowed never to turn out like him, and like I said earlier, I think it’s near impossible to actual become as lame as OSM.
Running on Empty played a pretty good set of covers that got the people moving and grooving to the hits of the sixties, and it raised a lot of money for a local charity. So in the end the night was worth it even though I missed GNP (Alisia took some pictures and sent me a few texts reminding me of how badass the band is…she’s kind of mean like that). Laughs and tunes will always be worth the ride.
Plus I got free chicken Parmesan courtesy of John’s Dad…who’s name is John also.
Saturday was different altogether….
Instead of going out we all just hung around John’s cabin hot tubbing and drinking beer, especially Bill. Some of his better (worse?) moments from the night:
• After saying he dressed in drag in high school: “I looked like a fat girl, but I could totally pull it off.”
• “I’m-in not dern…I’m fine.”
• “Why do I want to be in my room?” I explain he should pass out. “Will do.”
• Standing over the toilet: “I’ve vomited.”
• A different time standing over the toilet, this time with his arms whole of vomit covered toilet paper: “The lid was closed…I didn’t notice it at first.”
• “How did I get from the hot tub to me bed?” I explained that I just pointed him in the direction and he went. See earlier comments.
Some of his friends who live in Helena came up to enjoy the cabin as well, though honestly we didn’t talk a whole bunch even though we were sitting around a lot. At least it didn’t feel like a long time talking. Maybe it was. As far as Bill’s huge amount of booze, I blame myself. I encouraged him to drink a six-pack in a hot tub and didn’t stop him from drinking an awful lot of bourbon. But he seemed in good spirits this morning.
For all the time I spent in the hot tub this weekend, maybe about 6 hours total, my shoulder hurt a whole damn bunch. And I’m tired from the whole trip since we didn’t sleep nearly enough. This would bother me if it weren’t for the whole unemployed thing.
Today Sean, John, Bill and I all had brunch at our friend Sarah’s house. She made a huge amount of food and we ate way too much of it, but she and her husband seemed happy to have the company. I guess Helena isn’t a huge amount of fun when you’re young, which is why four dirty idiots grubbing at your pad seems like a treat.
But it was fun and we had some laughs. Then it was just a long ride back to Zootown (Holla), and my bed, which is where I am headed until a little later tonight when last night’s movie watching plans can actually happen. Should be fun. I’ll see you tomorrow kids.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Day 38: Buses and Misc.
Top reasons I love the bus:
1. Hate driving
2. Save on gas money
3. I walk more
But that's not what I'm really blogging about tonight, I just wanted to talk about how much I like the bus, just briefly.
First day without a job went off without much fanfare. The weirdest part had to do with sitting around without anyone to hang out with. When everyone else has work or school things get boring. So I went to campus today and collected my design clips from my days at the Kaimin and looked for a few jobs. Sort of boring day.
Oh, and I made my weekend plans, though as I said earlier, these "weekend" things don't matter since I lack employment. But the reason I bring it up is that I won't be blogging on Friday because I'm roadying for John's father's band up in Helena. This isn't a paying gig, but we do get to hang out and listen to some pretty good blues music (for white guys). Then Saturday I think I'm staying in to watch a movie.
A note about Friday: when I planned on the roady gig I didn't know that Good Neighbor Policy was playing at the Badlander. So, that sucks that I'm missing it, but if you read this you should go, and cheer twice as hard for me.
I'm sorry this post is all rambling. I stayed up way to late last night and I'm not really thinking very coherently.
1. Hate driving
2. Save on gas money
3. I walk more
But that's not what I'm really blogging about tonight, I just wanted to talk about how much I like the bus, just briefly.
First day without a job went off without much fanfare. The weirdest part had to do with sitting around without anyone to hang out with. When everyone else has work or school things get boring. So I went to campus today and collected my design clips from my days at the Kaimin and looked for a few jobs. Sort of boring day.
Oh, and I made my weekend plans, though as I said earlier, these "weekend" things don't matter since I lack employment. But the reason I bring it up is that I won't be blogging on Friday because I'm roadying for John's father's band up in Helena. This isn't a paying gig, but we do get to hang out and listen to some pretty good blues music (for white guys). Then Saturday I think I'm staying in to watch a movie.
A note about Friday: when I planned on the roady gig I didn't know that Good Neighbor Policy was playing at the Badlander. So, that sucks that I'm missing it, but if you read this you should go, and cheer twice as hard for me.
I'm sorry this post is all rambling. I stayed up way to late last night and I'm not really thinking very coherently.
Day 37 (redux): Wrong number
My friend Alisia and I made plans to watch Scream last night first via Facebook, and then by calling each other (rather, texting). So I sent this message to Alisia: "What's your favorite scary movie?"
Harmless fun, right? Just a small reference to the iconic 90s slasher flick. But as it turns out she gave me the wrong number, so I sent that to some random stranger completely out of context.
As I realized this last night before watching the movie I thought of someone sitting out there, getting that text, and wondering if they were going to die. I sure hope not and that the individual just assumed it was a stupid joke.
...and so yeah, Alisia and I watched a movie and had an extremely long talk about randomness. I don't know what else to say about it...
Like I said yesterday, while this updates on yesterday, I'm writing it today so I might as well update you on what I'm doing right now: drinking a beer. I don't even want this one, but I felt as an unemployed person I should do something completely odd, and a beer at 10:30 a.m. fit the bill.
Anyway, I'll be back later to talk about my day. I hope everyone catches my MRSA feature in the Indy... what can I say? Science is fun.
Harmless fun, right? Just a small reference to the iconic 90s slasher flick. But as it turns out she gave me the wrong number, so I sent that to some random stranger completely out of context.
As I realized this last night before watching the movie I thought of someone sitting out there, getting that text, and wondering if they were going to die. I sure hope not and that the individual just assumed it was a stupid joke.
...and so yeah, Alisia and I watched a movie and had an extremely long talk about randomness. I don't know what else to say about it...
Like I said yesterday, while this updates on yesterday, I'm writing it today so I might as well update you on what I'm doing right now: drinking a beer. I don't even want this one, but I felt as an unemployed person I should do something completely odd, and a beer at 10:30 a.m. fit the bill.
Anyway, I'll be back later to talk about my day. I hope everyone catches my MRSA feature in the Indy... what can I say? Science is fun.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Day 37: Yeah...
Not going to blog tonight. Got plans. I'll blog twice tomorrow... I have a great story of getting the wrong number...
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Day 36: Last 'real' deadline day
I hit the office around a quarter to nine today and slipped in my feature story for editing. Then I got to work reworking some of my UpFront, and finished off a couple of smaller stories to fill up the front of the Indy. All told I put in about 4,500 words this week with four stories and some truly great photos from Chad Harder to accompany them.
Then I set about throwing around shits and giggles with Harper, that other ink slinger you've been reading from week to week. At first I felt just completely stressed this morning, the world just seemed like a big bowl of bad. I didn't want to take that first step into the office and finish off the paper.
Then I did...and it was just over.
I think it's human nature to feel like you're going to go out in a bigger way than you really do. But unfortunately only James Dean gets to go out big, and maybe Kurt Cobain, the rest of us just sort go away.
But I didn't feel bad about this. I thought of the cover of the Independent sitting out there with my name on the cover – which has a damn fine picture on it – and that made me feel good. I get to leave with that as my crescendo, which makes it kind of fun.
Anyway, enough about that since I've still got one more actual day...
I was thinking a lot today about Rehberg's all too hilarious joke that was about as funny as a bag of cats in a river. I mean that. And here's why: because public figures have a higher standard to follow than the rest of us. That's why someone can get drunk downtown, make an ass out of themselves, and few ever care. But when Britney does it the world flips and can't shut up about it. Like Britney, Rehberg has to be scrutinized harsher, thus his attempt at humor gets a more jaded eye than most others – especially when you look at his voting record. I mean, jeesh, did a gay person steal his lunchbox as a kid?
And you know the best part of Rehberg's anti-gay rhetoric? Okay, he makes a passing joke about Sen. Larry Craig, right? And this after being so anti-gay...like a certain Sen. Larry Craig. See where I'm going with this?
Don't make fun of an anti-gay (allegedly) gay senator, when you're voting record matches up. It gets this guy's wheels turning about how wide of a stance a Billings "rancher" may have...
Of course that's pure hyperbole and humor, but you get my point? It's not funny to both vote against gay people, and also mock them. Didn't he do that enough already?
Then I set about throwing around shits and giggles with Harper, that other ink slinger you've been reading from week to week. At first I felt just completely stressed this morning, the world just seemed like a big bowl of bad. I didn't want to take that first step into the office and finish off the paper.
Then I did...and it was just over.
I think it's human nature to feel like you're going to go out in a bigger way than you really do. But unfortunately only James Dean gets to go out big, and maybe Kurt Cobain, the rest of us just sort go away.
But I didn't feel bad about this. I thought of the cover of the Independent sitting out there with my name on the cover – which has a damn fine picture on it – and that made me feel good. I get to leave with that as my crescendo, which makes it kind of fun.
Anyway, enough about that since I've still got one more actual day...
I was thinking a lot today about Rehberg's all too hilarious joke that was about as funny as a bag of cats in a river. I mean that. And here's why: because public figures have a higher standard to follow than the rest of us. That's why someone can get drunk downtown, make an ass out of themselves, and few ever care. But when Britney does it the world flips and can't shut up about it. Like Britney, Rehberg has to be scrutinized harsher, thus his attempt at humor gets a more jaded eye than most others – especially when you look at his voting record. I mean, jeesh, did a gay person steal his lunchbox as a kid?
And you know the best part of Rehberg's anti-gay rhetoric? Okay, he makes a passing joke about Sen. Larry Craig, right? And this after being so anti-gay...like a certain Sen. Larry Craig. See where I'm going with this?
Don't make fun of an anti-gay (allegedly) gay senator, when you're voting record matches up. It gets this guy's wheels turning about how wide of a stance a Billings "rancher" may have...
Of course that's pure hyperbole and humor, but you get my point? It's not funny to both vote against gay people, and also mock them. Didn't he do that enough already?
Monday, February 18, 2008
Day 35: What my plans are...
So jhwygirl left a comment on my post about Mortimina, the work of Spart, asking the simple question, "What's next?" I think she was referring to what I'll do after post Indy, and not what I'll next carve out of Spam, but maybe I'm wrong.
Anyway, right now I have ideas, but nothing pegged down for what my career will become. I think I have a few prospects, but who knows? I'll know more in the coming weeks, but rest assured that I've hedged myself for a few months of life via some minor savings, and a pending tax return that should get me through April. So I'm doing all right actually. Worst comes to worst I start living in Caras Park, or moving to Phoenix to be a "manny" for my brother.
Though I do have one problem going on right now. Last week I learned that a rumor is afoot that I got canned at the Indy, of course those reading the blog know that's not true, but hearing it asked of me semi-seriously got me sort of freaked out. What would I have been fired for? Writing some decent articles? Talking smack about Plum Creek Timber? I'm leaving on pretty damn fine terms with the Indy actually, and penning a feature this week, which – get this – tends to be a big part of the paper.
Speaking of which, I have to write some of that right now, so I should go do that instead of blogging about my rather boring day. Something tells me Wednesday will bring a decent post (last day of work).
Anyway, right now I have ideas, but nothing pegged down for what my career will become. I think I have a few prospects, but who knows? I'll know more in the coming weeks, but rest assured that I've hedged myself for a few months of life via some minor savings, and a pending tax return that should get me through April. So I'm doing all right actually. Worst comes to worst I start living in Caras Park, or moving to Phoenix to be a "manny" for my brother.
Though I do have one problem going on right now. Last week I learned that a rumor is afoot that I got canned at the Indy, of course those reading the blog know that's not true, but hearing it asked of me semi-seriously got me sort of freaked out. What would I have been fired for? Writing some decent articles? Talking smack about Plum Creek Timber? I'm leaving on pretty damn fine terms with the Indy actually, and penning a feature this week, which – get this – tends to be a big part of the paper.
Speaking of which, I have to write some of that right now, so I should go do that instead of blogging about my rather boring day. Something tells me Wednesday will bring a decent post (last day of work).
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Day 34: Lazy Sunday
I didn't do much at all today. Did some re-working of my feature for this Thursday's Indy, but sitting at a desk typing rarely amounts to work. My friend John, however, did do something today. Well, actually Friday night.
He went out camping with his brother this weekend and they went to some bars...I forget where they went honestly...so John comes in tonight and he looks like Rocky Balboa mixed with a dash of Ted Kennedy. In a word: fugly. Apparently the guy just wanted to fight, so he picked John (a guy roughly 5' 6") and beat his ass. But John's in good spirits, so I'll move on.
I don't know if anyone else caught this moment on Media Matters (or FoxNews Radio): Tom Sullivan, a radio pundit, did a side-by-side comparison of Obama orating, with Hitler orating. Just listen to it here.
Sick. Sick sick sick. Just...wow. You think they can't go any lower, and then they just dive.
I posted earlier today about my Spam pig Mortimina, and I hope everyone checks it out. I can't draw. I can't sing. But I seem to be able to carve Spam...[cries]
He went out camping with his brother this weekend and they went to some bars...I forget where they went honestly...so John comes in tonight and he looks like Rocky Balboa mixed with a dash of Ted Kennedy. In a word: fugly. Apparently the guy just wanted to fight, so he picked John (a guy roughly 5' 6") and beat his ass. But John's in good spirits, so I'll move on.
I don't know if anyone else caught this moment on Media Matters (or FoxNews Radio): Tom Sullivan, a radio pundit, did a side-by-side comparison of Obama orating, with Hitler orating. Just listen to it here.
Sick. Sick sick sick. Just...wow. You think they can't go any lower, and then they just dive.
I posted earlier today about my Spam pig Mortimina, and I hope everyone checks it out. I can't draw. I can't sing. But I seem to be able to carve Spam...[cries]
Day 33: A small update on yesterday...
Okay, this is all I wanted to post about:
Yeah, that's a pig ("Mortimina") carved out of Spam. My friend Tonya had her birthday last night with the theme "Whitetrash Birthday." So we carved Spam, and I went for the ironic item with some help from Alisia (The ears were her handy work). We didn't win the competition though, Tonya gave it to her brother's girlfriend...damn nepotism.
Looking at my art, or "Spart," this morning I'm not exactly proud of it. It's really gross.
I'll be back later today...
Yeah, that's a pig ("Mortimina") carved out of Spam. My friend Tonya had her birthday last night with the theme "Whitetrash Birthday." So we carved Spam, and I went for the ironic item with some help from Alisia (The ears were her handy work). We didn't win the competition though, Tonya gave it to her brother's girlfriend...damn nepotism.
Looking at my art, or "Spart," this morning I'm not exactly proud of it. It's really gross.
I'll be back later today...
Friday, February 15, 2008
Day 32: What about when weekends don’t matter?
I got really excited today as I left the office to grab my new glasses. Then it hit me. I’m not going to have a weekend next week. Just nowhere to go…and nothing to do. Totally weird feeling, like a school vacation, but really broke… Here's a super artsy picture of my new glassware via the Mac program Photobooth:
Alex and I are hitting up Stones in his Pockets at the Crystal tonight, and then who knows what. Maybe Cornmash over at the Union (Zane’s asking about that). I'm not sure. I might just come home and watch a movie.
So I think I’ll post some stuff tomorrow, but as always, don’t trust me to do this.
Alex and I are hitting up Stones in his Pockets at the Crystal tonight, and then who knows what. Maybe Cornmash over at the Union (Zane’s asking about that). I'm not sure. I might just come home and watch a movie.So I think I’ll post some stuff tomorrow, but as always, don’t trust me to do this.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Day 31: Valentine’s Day…
While a single chubby man could wax on and on about the grimness of life on Valentine’s Day, I won’t because I’m bothered by something else entirely today.
I opened up the Indy and saw an ad for a show at the Wilma in May, a show involving the band NOFX. At first I was la little excited, but then something hit me that I wasn’t expecting. Age.
Back a few years ago – okay, about 10 – my brother visited for Christmas. He’d been living in Phoenix for a few years, and wow was he different. He had tattoos, piercings, and a shit load of cds, punk rock cds. I had never heard anything like it before in my life. See in Anaconda you’ve got two music options: radio and MTV. We didn’t have a Rockin’ Rudy’s or Ear Candy. All we had was crappy crap crap coming from Carson Daly, and the always terrible “Y-95,” which has since sold.
The cds my brother had were of bands like Bad Religion, NOFX, Lagwagon, Propaghandi, etc. These were bands made up of angry guys how couldn’t sing, and could barely play their instruments. The anger part got me into the music. I’ll never forget the first time I heard the NOFX song “Murder the Government,” a string of somewhat barely coherent indictments of right wing thought with lines like: Wanna tar and lynch the KKK, wanna pull and shoot the NRA.
Lots of laughs.
My brother had me listen to these songs, bought me some new clothes, and then he bought me some cds later on: Lagwagon’s album Hoss, the Violent Femmes self-titled disc (not exactly hardcore, but perfect for an angsty teen), and the NOFX cd Punk in Drublic (I had already bought So Long and Thanks for all the Shoes, my first punk cd ever).
I was the only person in the Anaconda High class of ’03 listening to these bands in 1998, and one of only a few in town. That gave me an identity, something I could say made me different. When the football team gave my flabby little ass crap, I’d go home and blare these records and know that while maybe I couldn’t run fast, I was still something damn cool – an individual.
In 2000 the Van’s Warped Tour came through Montana stopping one day only in Bozeman. The big headliner: NOFX. My little chubby heart filled with glee, or a plaque clog, it’s hard to know at that age.
I got tickets and went with a few friends. We had a blast. I got into a pit, punching, pushing, kicking, jumping, and loving every minute of it. It was amazing. We went to the Warped Tour the next two years as well. Same results: awesome time.
But now to come back to the present…
When I saw the ad today for NOFX I remembered my blue hair, green hair, spiked bracelets, Fat Wreck Chords hoodie, chained wallet, studded jacket, and “eat shit” attitude. I remembered flipping off the football players and then wagging my sizable backside at them while they yelled homophobic slurs and such. And then it hit me: I’m 23 and I’m not fighting the football team anymore. I haven’t even listened to a NOFX song in about three years. I think I threw my Fat Wreck hoodie out a few years ago. The spikes? I gave those to the drummer of my short lived punk band “Suburban Excursion” (we named it as such because we thought the two SUV names were funny…plus it sounded cool when shortened to Sub-X).
I’m not that kid anymore. I don’t get that angry.
I’m…I’m…Oh god – I’m lame!
I listen to indie bands. I drink coffee. I write a blog and alt-weekly news. I’m not some angry little punk kid trying to figure out a way to leave Anaconda…I did.
Suddenly I felt old when I looked at that ad. I realized that part of me was gone into that great abyss of “when I was your age.” I shivered in my seat a little and wondered seriously for a few minutes if the little punk inside of me missed those days of wigging out and going violent. Does he? Probably, but that kid was kind of a little jerk, and all pent up as well.
I can still turn up the overdrive on my amp, blast out a track from Hüsker Dü, or…sigh… the Decemberists. And the worst part is that I’m okay with it. I think it’s all right to be different than when I was 16. In fact, it’s pretty much essential.
As for love and loneliness on Valentine’s Day? Phht! Who gives a damn? The whole holiday is kind of a sham anyway…and besides, the little punk in me doesn’t care about it all that much, and sometimes he’s still worth listening to.
I opened up the Indy and saw an ad for a show at the Wilma in May, a show involving the band NOFX. At first I was la little excited, but then something hit me that I wasn’t expecting. Age.
Back a few years ago – okay, about 10 – my brother visited for Christmas. He’d been living in Phoenix for a few years, and wow was he different. He had tattoos, piercings, and a shit load of cds, punk rock cds. I had never heard anything like it before in my life. See in Anaconda you’ve got two music options: radio and MTV. We didn’t have a Rockin’ Rudy’s or Ear Candy. All we had was crappy crap crap coming from Carson Daly, and the always terrible “Y-95,” which has since sold.
The cds my brother had were of bands like Bad Religion, NOFX, Lagwagon, Propaghandi, etc. These were bands made up of angry guys how couldn’t sing, and could barely play their instruments. The anger part got me into the music. I’ll never forget the first time I heard the NOFX song “Murder the Government,” a string of somewhat barely coherent indictments of right wing thought with lines like: Wanna tar and lynch the KKK, wanna pull and shoot the NRA.
Lots of laughs.
My brother had me listen to these songs, bought me some new clothes, and then he bought me some cds later on: Lagwagon’s album Hoss, the Violent Femmes self-titled disc (not exactly hardcore, but perfect for an angsty teen), and the NOFX cd Punk in Drublic (I had already bought So Long and Thanks for all the Shoes, my first punk cd ever).
I was the only person in the Anaconda High class of ’03 listening to these bands in 1998, and one of only a few in town. That gave me an identity, something I could say made me different. When the football team gave my flabby little ass crap, I’d go home and blare these records and know that while maybe I couldn’t run fast, I was still something damn cool – an individual.
In 2000 the Van’s Warped Tour came through Montana stopping one day only in Bozeman. The big headliner: NOFX. My little chubby heart filled with glee, or a plaque clog, it’s hard to know at that age.
I got tickets and went with a few friends. We had a blast. I got into a pit, punching, pushing, kicking, jumping, and loving every minute of it. It was amazing. We went to the Warped Tour the next two years as well. Same results: awesome time.
But now to come back to the present…
When I saw the ad today for NOFX I remembered my blue hair, green hair, spiked bracelets, Fat Wreck Chords hoodie, chained wallet, studded jacket, and “eat shit” attitude. I remembered flipping off the football players and then wagging my sizable backside at them while they yelled homophobic slurs and such. And then it hit me: I’m 23 and I’m not fighting the football team anymore. I haven’t even listened to a NOFX song in about three years. I think I threw my Fat Wreck hoodie out a few years ago. The spikes? I gave those to the drummer of my short lived punk band “Suburban Excursion” (we named it as such because we thought the two SUV names were funny…plus it sounded cool when shortened to Sub-X).
I’m not that kid anymore. I don’t get that angry.
I’m…I’m…Oh god – I’m lame!
I listen to indie bands. I drink coffee. I write a blog and alt-weekly news. I’m not some angry little punk kid trying to figure out a way to leave Anaconda…I did.
Suddenly I felt old when I looked at that ad. I realized that part of me was gone into that great abyss of “when I was your age.” I shivered in my seat a little and wondered seriously for a few minutes if the little punk inside of me missed those days of wigging out and going violent. Does he? Probably, but that kid was kind of a little jerk, and all pent up as well.
I can still turn up the overdrive on my amp, blast out a track from Hüsker Dü, or…sigh… the Decemberists. And the worst part is that I’m okay with it. I think it’s all right to be different than when I was 16. In fact, it’s pretty much essential.
As for love and loneliness on Valentine’s Day? Phht! Who gives a damn? The whole holiday is kind of a sham anyway…and besides, the little punk in me doesn’t care about it all that much, and sometimes he’s still worth listening to.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Day 30: Wow…five days…
I’m nearly unemployed. In five (work)days I’ll box up my stuff at the Indy and just…leave. It’s a weird feeling.
I’ve talked about how it makes me feel really in control of everything, but I’d be lying if I acted completely sure of myself…I don’t know what will happen. I’m feeling good about it, but wow. It’s a big damn world where I might fail.
Anyway…
I gotta be honest, nothing happened to me today. I went to work. I went to lunch. I attended a few Council Committee meetings. I went to Kettlehouse. Nothing else.
Wait, there was something else – I played guitar. I played this song:
So, I’m planning some more stuff later in the week, but nothing else right now. Sorry for the lame update, but life isn’t always exciting.
Make sure to grab the Indy tomorrow.
I’ve talked about how it makes me feel really in control of everything, but I’d be lying if I acted completely sure of myself…I don’t know what will happen. I’m feeling good about it, but wow. It’s a big damn world where I might fail.
Anyway…
I gotta be honest, nothing happened to me today. I went to work. I went to lunch. I attended a few Council Committee meetings. I went to Kettlehouse. Nothing else.
Wait, there was something else – I played guitar. I played this song:
So, I’m planning some more stuff later in the week, but nothing else right now. Sorry for the lame update, but life isn’t always exciting.
Make sure to grab the Indy tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Day 29: Random post on a taboo topic
Some of you may have caught my piece this past week about Dr. Lindsey Doe, Montana’s only trained sexologist. I must admit I had a little too much fun both interviewing her, and writing about it. For instance I got more use out of this old joke of mine:
Any time I get to drop that joke I feel pretty good, the problem is that so many people have hang-ups about sex that the joke can’t always be told.
I myself try not to be too hung up on the issue; though I must admit that being raised Catholic provides plenty of chances to feel odd about the ubiquitous “it.”
This week I’ve been more aware of people’s little foibles with sex. What can I say, it could be the month, or the fact that I’m living single – I don’t know. But being aware of the new foibles doesn’t make me all that happy. For instance, I caught this item today about how the Seattle Times wouldn’t run an ad for The Vagina Monologues because of an image that showed a Rorschach-esque vagina (gasp!).
More shocking than that however, my aunt told me a story about her boyfriend, who I’ll call Ronny in reference to his Presidential hero. So Ronny and his redneck/moron friends have been all about the Heath Ledger news, she told me. Because they feel terrible about the fact that a young father died? No. Not even a bit. They think he killed himself because of that “gay cowboy movie.” Again, people freaked out about something sexual so they respond like idiots. (Worse, they were wrong.)
Annoyed I turned toward a project a former classmate Brian McDermott made: Montanalove.net. This site he did for his MA project, and it always makes me feel good, particularly this story about a gay cowboy. You can also catch more about Dr. Doe, as well.
A little more about The Vagina Monologues…
I’ve seen the play before as part of a V-Day with a past girlfriend. We saw it in Butte of all places. At the event – I guess it was in 2003 – they gave out stickers to so many people as a representation of how many women in Butte were victims of domestic violence. Halfway through the night they asked everyone with a sticker to stand…I was the only guy, which made me feel like I was the guy responsible for it. Totally bad feeling, but I completely recommend viewing it.
Another thing I want to ask is already being discussed at 4&20, which is: How the hell do University of Montana dancers have anything in common with Hooters Girls? I'll give you a minute...nothing. Not a damn thing. The context is completely different. One is meant as eye-candy to entice wing buying, the other fills the time between the second and third quarter. And that difference in context makes one demeaning, and the other art. But that's just my opinion...
So, I’m going to end this post now. Take care kids. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I can understand how religion messes with peoples’ sex lives, but I’ve used it to my advantage. Most guys think of something like baseball or Presidential trivia during sex, but I just remember the encouraging words of Father Murray from my Catholic childhood: “Sex is evil. Sex is evil. Sex is evil.” It really extends the night.
Any time I get to drop that joke I feel pretty good, the problem is that so many people have hang-ups about sex that the joke can’t always be told.
I myself try not to be too hung up on the issue; though I must admit that being raised Catholic provides plenty of chances to feel odd about the ubiquitous “it.”
This week I’ve been more aware of people’s little foibles with sex. What can I say, it could be the month, or the fact that I’m living single – I don’t know. But being aware of the new foibles doesn’t make me all that happy. For instance, I caught this item today about how the Seattle Times wouldn’t run an ad for The Vagina Monologues because of an image that showed a Rorschach-esque vagina (gasp!).
More shocking than that however, my aunt told me a story about her boyfriend, who I’ll call Ronny in reference to his Presidential hero. So Ronny and his redneck/moron friends have been all about the Heath Ledger news, she told me. Because they feel terrible about the fact that a young father died? No. Not even a bit. They think he killed himself because of that “gay cowboy movie.” Again, people freaked out about something sexual so they respond like idiots. (Worse, they were wrong.)
Annoyed I turned toward a project a former classmate Brian McDermott made: Montanalove.net. This site he did for his MA project, and it always makes me feel good, particularly this story about a gay cowboy. You can also catch more about Dr. Doe, as well.
A little more about The Vagina Monologues…
I’ve seen the play before as part of a V-Day with a past girlfriend. We saw it in Butte of all places. At the event – I guess it was in 2003 – they gave out stickers to so many people as a representation of how many women in Butte were victims of domestic violence. Halfway through the night they asked everyone with a sticker to stand…I was the only guy, which made me feel like I was the guy responsible for it. Totally bad feeling, but I completely recommend viewing it.
Another thing I want to ask is already being discussed at 4&20, which is: How the hell do University of Montana dancers have anything in common with Hooters Girls? I'll give you a minute...nothing. Not a damn thing. The context is completely different. One is meant as eye-candy to entice wing buying, the other fills the time between the second and third quarter. And that difference in context makes one demeaning, and the other art. But that's just my opinion...
So, I’m going to end this post now. Take care kids. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Day 28: Soliciting for unsolicited advice
After tonight’s City Council meeting I got some advice from a reader: Don’t worry so much. Actually, she pointed out that I’m 23 and I worry too much for someone my age without a mortgage, kids, or anything like that.
True. I have a pretty easy life outside of work and a somewhat boring, but existent, social life. I get by, sort of, and I’m able to enjoy free time (again, sort of). But I do worry regardless of the fact that my life is relatively easy, and I appreciated the POV that I need to ease up on my worrying a bit. So, since the unsolicited advice did perk me up, I’ve decided to open this post to more unsolicited advice – the kind of stuff you’d tell someone having a bad day, or someone graduating. Just post it in the comments section…
Another part the post meeting conversation worth talking about is our somewhat odd exchange over the fact that worries cause suicides, to which I responded that I couldn’t commit suicide until I write something big. Let’s be honest here, that guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces got pretty lucky on his first serious piece of work. I doubt the same would happen for me. In other words: I gotta live for a while.
(Plus I dig this whole life gig; cemeteries are too creepy.)
Also, today I finished up the first draft of my last feature for the Indy as a staff writer, and I must admit that it felt weird. If I write another feature for the paper I’ll just be a freelancer, some hired ink-slinger doing the work without an actual desk. It caught me off guard and for a minute and I caught myself debating taking my notice back…but I didn’t. I think quitting will end up being a good choice, it just seems weird to know that the basement at 317 S. Orange will no longer be my home.
But not recanting my original choice made me feel stronger about it than ever. I think it’s an odd moment when you know you’re in complete control of your life, and “destiny,” though I kind of dislike the word…Now I’ve just got to figure out what’s next… again, any ideas?
***
Update: I had to post this gem:
True. I have a pretty easy life outside of work and a somewhat boring, but existent, social life. I get by, sort of, and I’m able to enjoy free time (again, sort of). But I do worry regardless of the fact that my life is relatively easy, and I appreciated the POV that I need to ease up on my worrying a bit. So, since the unsolicited advice did perk me up, I’ve decided to open this post to more unsolicited advice – the kind of stuff you’d tell someone having a bad day, or someone graduating. Just post it in the comments section…
Another part the post meeting conversation worth talking about is our somewhat odd exchange over the fact that worries cause suicides, to which I responded that I couldn’t commit suicide until I write something big. Let’s be honest here, that guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces got pretty lucky on his first serious piece of work. I doubt the same would happen for me. In other words: I gotta live for a while.
(Plus I dig this whole life gig; cemeteries are too creepy.)
Also, today I finished up the first draft of my last feature for the Indy as a staff writer, and I must admit that it felt weird. If I write another feature for the paper I’ll just be a freelancer, some hired ink-slinger doing the work without an actual desk. It caught me off guard and for a minute and I caught myself debating taking my notice back…but I didn’t. I think quitting will end up being a good choice, it just seems weird to know that the basement at 317 S. Orange will no longer be my home.
But not recanting my original choice made me feel stronger about it than ever. I think it’s an odd moment when you know you’re in complete control of your life, and “destiny,” though I kind of dislike the word…Now I’ve just got to figure out what’s next… again, any ideas?
***
Update: I had to post this gem:
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Day 26 and 27: Not a whole lot of anything…
Saturday night I hit the KBGA End-a-thon Prom to see the bands and, as I hoped, some characters. I caught both, so, holla.
The bands were pretty decent, but rather than review those I’d like to talk about Drunk Guy. Drunk Guy was about 26 or so, completely wasted, and sporting a shirt that said, “Hi. I used to be in a frat!” He walked around yelling at people, not angrily, just the drunken, “Yeah! Woo! Yeah!” He also sported devil horns whenever a song played…regardless of its rockalicious content, and or metalness. I had to laugh. A lot. It made my night.
Outside of that I caught some Finnegan’s with Alisia* (I misspelled her name as “Alyssa” a few posts back…which I haven’t bothered correcting since I thought her name at the time was Alyssa…so, moving on). She’d never been and I promised her that the place was worthwhile if only because of the bad coffee, and guaranteed impromptu drag show come 2:15 a.m. Luckily both happened. I love that place.
Today I caught There Will Be Blood, the big Oscar buzz-filled film setting hearts aflutter. My interpretation: it’s…good…I think. Honestly I thought it was at least a bit disturbing. It was good though. I recommend it if only to see Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance. He’s fantastic.
*Not "CD Girl"
Update: Thanks for the correction Davis.
The bands were pretty decent, but rather than review those I’d like to talk about Drunk Guy. Drunk Guy was about 26 or so, completely wasted, and sporting a shirt that said, “Hi. I used to be in a frat!” He walked around yelling at people, not angrily, just the drunken, “Yeah! Woo! Yeah!” He also sported devil horns whenever a song played…regardless of its rockalicious content, and or metalness. I had to laugh. A lot. It made my night.
Outside of that I caught some Finnegan’s with Alisia* (I misspelled her name as “Alyssa” a few posts back…which I haven’t bothered correcting since I thought her name at the time was Alyssa…so, moving on). She’d never been and I promised her that the place was worthwhile if only because of the bad coffee, and guaranteed impromptu drag show come 2:15 a.m. Luckily both happened. I love that place.
Today I caught There Will Be Blood, the big Oscar buzz-filled film setting hearts aflutter. My interpretation: it’s…good…I think. Honestly I thought it was at least a bit disturbing. It was good though. I recommend it if only to see Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance. He’s fantastic.
*Not "CD Girl"
Update: Thanks for the correction Davis.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Day 25: You’re too stupid for me
It’s not often, but on occasion I meet a person who inspires me to question my faith in humanity. The type of person who makes it seem like I’ll avoid children not because of my aversion to such matters, but because I don’t want my kids to see a world with people so unfathomably dumb.
Tonight I saw some of that and it just made me think, “Wow, I am really happy to be 23. I am fine with being away from college where it may have been easier to meet new people, but I kept meeting people like you. Thank god I have entered the real world and I can now just, um, go over here…away from you…no, please don’t touch me…”
I actually thought all of that. It seemed sort of liberating to know I no longer have this set demographic of people I had in college. See, as a collegiate you’re kind of stuck with whatever 20something will date you, but once you’ve torn free from the shackles of the tuition-based life, you can pretty much to whatever you want. At least in my experience, I may be wrong.
Friday’s, as usual, provided me very little material. Especially today. I spent the whole day trying to assemble the feature I’m authoring in issue eight (my last issue on staff). Then I just grabbed beers with Zane, ate some OP recession special – the aptly named dish for the economy these days – and now I’m home, blogging, watching Heat, and drinking a nice bottle of beer.
Some may say Fridays need to be spent out, fraternizing and carpe diem, but I feel fine. Damn fine. Especially given that Jamee Greer over at 4&20 dropped a “holla.” That made my day. (By the way: Crazy avalanche photos...)
If nothing goes on tomorrow I’ll be back here, same Pat time, same Pat channel. If I find stuff to do, I’ll see you Sunday.
Tonight I saw some of that and it just made me think, “Wow, I am really happy to be 23. I am fine with being away from college where it may have been easier to meet new people, but I kept meeting people like you. Thank god I have entered the real world and I can now just, um, go over here…away from you…no, please don’t touch me…”
I actually thought all of that. It seemed sort of liberating to know I no longer have this set demographic of people I had in college. See, as a collegiate you’re kind of stuck with whatever 20something will date you, but once you’ve torn free from the shackles of the tuition-based life, you can pretty much to whatever you want. At least in my experience, I may be wrong.
Friday’s, as usual, provided me very little material. Especially today. I spent the whole day trying to assemble the feature I’m authoring in issue eight (my last issue on staff). Then I just grabbed beers with Zane, ate some OP recession special – the aptly named dish for the economy these days – and now I’m home, blogging, watching Heat, and drinking a nice bottle of beer.
Some may say Fridays need to be spent out, fraternizing and carpe diem, but I feel fine. Damn fine. Especially given that Jamee Greer over at 4&20 dropped a “holla.” That made my day. (By the way: Crazy avalanche photos...)
If nothing goes on tomorrow I’ll be back here, same Pat time, same Pat channel. If I find stuff to do, I’ll see you Sunday.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Day 24: The year of the rat
Have you ever noticed that movies about pot always make it seem one of two things: EVIL! or just something to enjoy. It’s weird. I only note this because I’m watching Saving Grace, a small film written by Craig Ferguson about a woman who becomes a large scale dealer after her husband’s death. It makes the drug look like most experiences I’ve ever had with it: fun.But anyway, today marks the year of the Rat in the Chinese astrological cycle. I don’t believe in New Age stuff, but I found it odd that that this would happen this year. Why? Because I fall under the rat in the Chinese astro chart. I want to change this year, and it’s my year.
Everybody needs to know it's the year of the rat
Every day we've got to hold on
'cause if we hold on we could find some new energy– Badly Drawn Boy
Wikipedia says this about Rats:
Rats consider others before themselves, at least sometimes, and avoid forcing their ideas onto others. Rats are fair in their dealings and expect the same from others in return, and can be deeply affronted if they feel they have been deceived or that their trust has been abused. Sometimes they set their targets too high, whether in relation to their friends or in their career. But as the years pass, they will become more idealistic and tolerant. If they can develop their sense of self and realize it leaves room for others in their life as well, Rats can find true happiness.
According to tradition, Rats often carry heavy karma and at some point in life may face an identity crisis or some kind of feeling of guilt. Rats are said to often have to work very long and hard for everything they may earn or have in life. However, a Rat born during the day is said to have things a bit easier than those who are born at night. Traditionally, Rats born during the night may face extreme hardships and suffering throughout life. Rats in general should guard themselves against hedonism, as it may lead to self-destruction. Gambling, alcohol and drugs tend to be great temptations to Rat natives.
Professions include espionage, psychiatry, psychology, writing, politics, law, engineering, accounting, detective work, acting, and pathology.
Admittedly I see a lot of myself in those words, particularly the lofty goals and identity crisis bit. The Wiki-page also talks a lot about the five elements in Chinese and about how mine is wood, which apparently has a lot to do with depression (a depressing notion to contemplate). Anyway, I thought it seemed odd that my year of self discovery falls here in my astrological year.
Maybe it means something...
Nah.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Day 23: My favorite thing in the world
It’s July 2003 just a few months shy of when I moved to Missoula. My whole family is going through a grieving process over my grandmother and aunt’s recent deaths. Stroke complications and cancer, respectively. Amongst this badness we learn that my dad’s twin brother has cancer as well. Cancer of the everything. I am on Lexapro (I'm planning a post about this later). Additionally "L" and I are pretty serious and starting to go over how the move should be handled. The talks aren’t going well.
Truly not the best of times in my life, but all of this led me to something great: tattoos.
I always liked tattoos, at least the idea of them. My parents had friends with tats, and my brother had a few too. There was nothing taboo about them. At all. To me the tattoo represents a chance to sport art on your body, and that is cool.
Faced with all the shit in my life I decided I needed something changed, and a tattoo does change you. It’s an experience unlike anything else. If you’ve never got a tattoo before allow me to describe it: pain. It hurts, but soon your body goes into shock and the needles just tickle. Afterward everything tingles from the adrenaline. (I myself shake.) It’s the adrenaline that makes it fun. Just like jumping out of a plane gives someone a rush, the tattoo provides a high. It’s addicting.
I chose Matt Perez at Painless Steel in Butte for my first tattoo a feather with a few words written around it that mean courage and bravery that sits on my left shoulder blade. The feather was in memory of my grandma; the words were about what it took to get through everything that year.
Going through that physical pain sort of put the emotional pain in perspective. It ended, and soon, with time and a couple nights of drinking (post Lexapro that is), I got over the emotional pain of my family’s tough times.
A year after this first tattoo I was working at Montana State Hospital, a place where everyone has tattoos. I felt odd tingles and started staring at pictures thinking, “Wow, that’d look great on my arm.” Finally it became too much to handle So I got a moon tattooed opposite the feather. This one was for my brother who sports a sun on his arm (we’re like night and day, get it?). Again, Perez did this one.
Shortly after this ink job my other grandma died. This would be the seventh death of someone I loved over what I like to call “Three Really Bad Years.” Not knowing how else to deal with this latest death I got shamrock on my arm with a Celtic knot wrapped around it. (Bonus story: This past March I spent St. Patty’s day at the Union Club. I wasn’t sporting any green and the bartender started giving me hell about it. In response I pulled up my shirtsleeve to show her the shamrock and said, “Real Irish people don’t need to wear green shirts.” She comped my Guinness. Bonus Bonus story: “J,” from my post about love, and I first bonded because of my tattoos.)
Last year I got my first tattoo just for me: a biohazard sign. When people ask me why I got this, I explain that it’s fun growing up on a Superfund Site, but it probably means I’m full of poison.
With everything going on in my life now – you know, that whole quitting thing – I’m feeling the tingles again. Big time. Problem is that I don’t have the cash to get a new one, and so I’m stuck wanting… looking at my four tattoos and imagining more…lots more.
*sigh*
Anyway. Not a huge day today so that’s why I’m talking about tattoos. The cold still has me kind of weak feeling. Plus, Super Tuesday meant too many pitchers. So bad choice really.
See you tomorrow.
Truly not the best of times in my life, but all of this led me to something great: tattoos.
I always liked tattoos, at least the idea of them. My parents had friends with tats, and my brother had a few too. There was nothing taboo about them. At all. To me the tattoo represents a chance to sport art on your body, and that is cool.
Faced with all the shit in my life I decided I needed something changed, and a tattoo does change you. It’s an experience unlike anything else. If you’ve never got a tattoo before allow me to describe it: pain. It hurts, but soon your body goes into shock and the needles just tickle. Afterward everything tingles from the adrenaline. (I myself shake.) It’s the adrenaline that makes it fun. Just like jumping out of a plane gives someone a rush, the tattoo provides a high. It’s addicting.
I chose Matt Perez at Painless Steel in Butte for my first tattoo a feather with a few words written around it that mean courage and bravery that sits on my left shoulder blade. The feather was in memory of my grandma; the words were about what it took to get through everything that year.
Going through that physical pain sort of put the emotional pain in perspective. It ended, and soon, with time and a couple nights of drinking (post Lexapro that is), I got over the emotional pain of my family’s tough times.
A year after this first tattoo I was working at Montana State Hospital, a place where everyone has tattoos. I felt odd tingles and started staring at pictures thinking, “Wow, that’d look great on my arm.” Finally it became too much to handle So I got a moon tattooed opposite the feather. This one was for my brother who sports a sun on his arm (we’re like night and day, get it?). Again, Perez did this one.
Shortly after this ink job my other grandma died. This would be the seventh death of someone I loved over what I like to call “Three Really Bad Years.” Not knowing how else to deal with this latest death I got shamrock on my arm with a Celtic knot wrapped around it. (Bonus story: This past March I spent St. Patty’s day at the Union Club. I wasn’t sporting any green and the bartender started giving me hell about it. In response I pulled up my shirtsleeve to show her the shamrock and said, “Real Irish people don’t need to wear green shirts.” She comped my Guinness. Bonus Bonus story: “J,” from my post about love, and I first bonded because of my tattoos.)
Last year I got my first tattoo just for me: a biohazard sign. When people ask me why I got this, I explain that it’s fun growing up on a Superfund Site, but it probably means I’m full of poison.
With everything going on in my life now – you know, that whole quitting thing – I’m feeling the tingles again. Big time. Problem is that I don’t have the cash to get a new one, and so I’m stuck wanting… looking at my four tattoos and imagining more…lots more.
*sigh*
Anyway. Not a huge day today so that’s why I’m talking about tattoos. The cold still has me kind of weak feeling. Plus, Super Tuesday meant too many pitchers. So bad choice really.
See you tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Day 22: Fat Tuesday predictions
While I’d like to see Ron Paul’s revolution cause an upset (for the laughs), I doubt that will happen. But some of these peeps will win, and then we’ll all have to vote for one of them come November (*cough* Obama *cough*). Anyway, this also helps save me from a real post today. Holla.
West Virginia already came out and ruined my prediction there (McCain) and chose Huckabee, which has me doubting some of these other predictions. Then right before I posted this I saw that I was right about Georgia Dems: totally pro Obama. So maybe I’m doing okay with my predictions after all… Only time will tell.
***
Update: Wow... so I was wrong about most of my guesses... I haven't bothered with a full postmortem on them, but it looks bad. Anyway, my friend Sean made a great observation this morning: "The worst part about Super Tuesday is the not so Super Wednesday." Holla. We apparently toasted a little much last night. But that happens when you go bowling at midnight.
***
Second update: Ron Paul wins Missoula? Well, the internet tubes have a word for this: LOLs!
Alabama
Dems: Clinton (I can’t see this state going Obama)
Reps: Huckabee
Alaska
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain
Arizona
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain
Arkansas
Dems: Obama
Reps: Huckabee
California
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
Colorado
Dems: Obama
Reps: Huckabee
Connecticut
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
Delaware
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
Georgia
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
Idaho
Dems: Obama
Illinois
Dems: Obama (Home field)
Reps: McCain
Kansas
Dems: Clinton
Massachusetts
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
Minnesota
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain
Missouri
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
Montana
Reps: Romney (The GOP loves Burns, but I think they’ll follow Denny’s lead on this one)
New Jersey
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain
New Mexico
Dems: Obama
New York
Dems: Clinton (Home field)
Reps: McCain
North Dakota
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain
Oklahoma
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain
Tennessee
Dems: Obama
Reps: Huckabee
Utah
Dems: Obama
Reps: Romney (Nearly a freebie guess)
West Virginia already came out and ruined my prediction there (McCain) and chose Huckabee, which has me doubting some of these other predictions. Then right before I posted this I saw that I was right about Georgia Dems: totally pro Obama. So maybe I’m doing okay with my predictions after all… Only time will tell.
***
Update: Wow... so I was wrong about most of my guesses... I haven't bothered with a full postmortem on them, but it looks bad. Anyway, my friend Sean made a great observation this morning: "The worst part about Super Tuesday is the not so Super Wednesday." Holla. We apparently toasted a little much last night. But that happens when you go bowling at midnight.
***
Second update: Ron Paul wins Missoula? Well, the internet tubes have a word for this: LOLs!
Monday, February 4, 2008
Day 21: Down with the sickness
I hate being sick. I hate the lethargy, the sneezing, the coughing, and just feeling crappy. It's terrible. Add in how much work I got going on right now, and you can guess how happy my life is today.But there are some good things. For instance, this weekend I watched King of Kong, a documentary about one man's quest to hold the world record for the high score in Donkey Kong. If you're a gamer the movie somehow legitimizes your own fascination with the medium, but I think non-gamers would enjoy it as well because it's a very intriguing story of a nice guy facing a bully. The bully in this situation is a guy named Billy Mitchell, who runs a few restaurants in Hollywood, Florida, and spends the entire movie acting like he's somehow amazing because he has got high scores on Donkey Kong. As a gamer myself I know I have occasionally gloated over dumb things, but if you see the movie you'll see not the worst video gamer, but the worst person. I give the movie four-stars and recommend checking it out.
I read an entire article today about how bloggers need to involve their readers in ways...like by proposing questions. So I've got one for you. First the situation:
After the Good Neighbor Policy played Friday night a girl told me how she really liked the band and wished she had their cd, which I happened to have. The next morning while on my way to get my car I stopped by where she works and gave the cd to her because I no longer need a real copy.A few friends say that's a very nice gesture that stands out as a kind, memorable act. One went as far as to say it was a bold, and smooth move (oddly enough this is the same description given to Miller Genuine Draft, which has me doubting the sincerity of the statement). I mostly brought her the cd because I was trying to be nice, but regardless of that, my question to you fine reader is whether or not bringing someone a cd – kind of at random – is smooth, stupid, or creepy?
That's all I got today. This cold has me floored.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Days 19 and 20: Meh, again
Sick. Very sick. Some kind of head cold that's knocked me down since early yesterday. I'll update when I get better.
Outside of me, however, I am so damn happy that the Giants won the Super Bowl. Man I hate the Patriots.
Outside of me, however, I am so damn happy that the Giants won the Super Bowl. Man I hate the Patriots.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Day 18: The big news
This is my big news post... I sent the following out to some people yesterday morning. First thing before you read, however, I would like to apologize to jhwygirl from 4&20 who promoted this blog and also reads my articles:
So, yeah...that's my news. See you Sunday.
***
Tonight I caught Good Neighbor Policy and Thomas Pendarvis gave me some really bad news. Apparently the band might be moving. And that sucks. GNP is one of the best bands in town so I'd like to see them stay a "Missoula band." They're playing the PBR Battle of the bands and would like everyone's support. Being a local music-file, I'd highly recommend the group, and I think everyone should go give them some love because they're frickin' fantastic. Seriously. Especially Bethany (cello) who a few friends of mine have a total music crush on. Anyway. they played a great set at the Badlander and I hope everyone can show them some love in the coming months to keep them here.
Friends, colleagues, former-colleagues andAs I said, don't worry. I'm not going to quit writing, and you'll see my stuff somewhere else (and here of course) soon enough.
well-wishers:
After a good long think about my life, and my future, I must sadly announce my departure from the Missoula Independent. It's been a damn fine time, but, to speak as a poetic barfly, the lights have come up and it’s time to wander home. So after issue 8 (Feb. 21) this guy's unemployed.
I know, I know. This sounds like a terrible idea, but after a lot of thinking I've decided just say to hell with it and follow the advice of my mentor and friend Henriette Lowisch: “You’ve got something you want to do just do it and don’t think about what happens next… You’re young. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”
So I’m off to do what I want, hopefully without making too many mistakes. (Hint: I’m not becoming a meth dealer...yet) Don’t worry kids – you haven’t heard the last of me. I promise.
So, yeah...that's my news. See you Sunday.
***
Tonight I caught Good Neighbor Policy and Thomas Pendarvis gave me some really bad news. Apparently the band might be moving. And that sucks. GNP is one of the best bands in town so I'd like to see them stay a "Missoula band." They're playing the PBR Battle of the bands and would like everyone's support. Being a local music-file, I'd highly recommend the group, and I think everyone should go give them some love because they're frickin' fantastic. Seriously. Especially Bethany (cello) who a few friends of mine have a total music crush on. Anyway. they played a great set at the Badlander and I hope everyone can show them some love in the coming months to keep them here.
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