Alright. In honor of the old template having gotten gorfed somehow, with the posts diving off past the sidebar for some reason, I've finally gotten around to revising things. I hope everyone likes blue. There's a fair amount left to fiddle with, such as a new more horizontal logo, but this'll do for the moment. In any case, I have to eat dinner and then go off and watch things explode.

Your Political Profile

Overall: 15% Conservative, 85% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Ethics: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

How Liberal / Conservative Are You?

I hope Kate reads this post

I am working on a stroke of optimism.
Also finding a job.
Also learning to play guitar. You’d think I could have started on that one earlier. Ah well.

Summer hinders blogging because blogging is a classic example of a semi-productive activity. As a procrastinator, I’m incredibly semi-productive when I have legitimate work to be doing. But now there’s nothing to put off by blogging. Also, there are stretches of summer where I actually do very little of note… not that that’s stopped me before. I mean, I could be giving deep insight into my inner emotional doings, which I assure you, could be stretched into long and vaguely coherent paragraphs, but also into enigmatic one-liners. Anyway…

So I did go to Ted Leo. It was… promising. I can’t really say that I’ve heard his music yet, as the sound quality was not particularly good. However, he was clearly better than Aloha. Still, it was a pleasant roar for the most part, and I liked what I could occasionally hear.

Also saw Batman Begins. It was incredibly awesomely cool. Go see it now. Go see British actors pretend to be Americans in Chicago pretending to be Gotham city (and very well on both counts, I might add). It has clever twists, explosions, and the Bat-tank. (which, as every technological device should be, is introduced by Morgan Freeman). On a scale of Badassitude, I give this movie 4 out of 5 Bruce Campbells.

Also, on a note which will be horrifying for some, I have come to the conclusion that when I have some money to burn, I’m going to Belmont and getting myself a shiny metallic gold shirt, and some vinyl pants, just because it will be hilarious, or terrifying, or possibly an unexpected fashion breakthrough. The combination of black vinyl pants, gold metallic shirt, black leather jacket, and dark sunglasses has some potential, I think… potential for something, anyway.

And the ever-present random philosophical inkling:

There are some things we believe in because we have faith, and faith is a marvelous thing.
There are other things we believe in because we are idiots.

It’s really very cute that they seem to sort of disapprove of each other, but this can only cause problems down the road. Really, I’m going to cut back on comments that I absolutely shouldn’t explain. But damn it, that one amuses me.

Home at last. Actually, I was home Saturday afternoon, but I’ve really just settled in, as I’ve now seen the majority of the people I wanted to reunite with. Alex and Peter came up Sunday and we made our traditional trip to Rolling Stone, where I desperate searched for a CD in my $9.00 budget range. And unlike at most music stores, at Rolling Stone that is a possibility. I came away with Big Brother and the Holding Company, Janis Joplin’s recording debut. It’s a worthwhile album, especially for six dollars. Afterwards, we watched a few episodes of Dave Chappelle on DVD. And a grand old time it was.

And today (Tuesday), Kate came over for a bit, flush with youthful rebellion, wherein we determined that The Kate is not evil, but does deserve the definite article.

Also, today, I joined what has become known as “Joestravaganza.” Oddly enough, Joe was there, as well as Maciej, Sweeney, et al. And there was much watching of Evil Dead 2 and Rock and Roll High School, arguably the best movie to ever feature all four Ramones, possibly the best movie to ever put a Ramone in the shower and blow up a school (with the power of science). Also, some marveling over the Cubs game (14-0 baby! With Sergio Mitre throwing a complete game shutout. Raise your hand if you saw that coming.) and a brief period of DDR sharking. Good times.

"At this distance, I'd have no way of knowing which one of you was the real Nancy."

And I will see everyone again tomorrow at the Ted Leo concert, not by design, but just because everyone I know seems to be going.

Also, I threw two more poems up yesterday that have been sitting around for a while waiting to be declared finished: “Misbelieving” and “Something in the Wind.”

“And if we’re lucky, not a one of us will be killed…”
I’m not explaining why that was my away message earlier this week, but there was alcohol involved. And it was delicious.

Anyway, I’m done! Woot! Never again will I take two writing classes in the same quarter. Actually, if they don’t fix the registration system, never again will I take classes…

However, My faith in my ability to totally slack through a calculus class and get an A has been restored. Hopefully that will balance out all the other classes I slacked through. Also, due to a very sketchy system of grade reporting, my calculus grade was reported to me as “Baron Reynaldo: A”, which almost totally makes up for the teacher being a rather disorganized grad student.

And I lied: I’m not completely done yet. There are still a few things that need attending to, like packing and cleaning. Most importantly, I am presently holding hostage a fork. The fork, if it must be described, would best be summarized as “cheese-encrusted.” If one were of the character to make terrible puns (and I am, so very much), one might describe it as “pretty forking cheese-encrusted.” Of course, now that I’ve said that, there is a distinct possibility that I will be killed with said fork. That in itself would, of course, be pretty forking incredible… Oh, she’s definitely going to kill me now. Hee! But the point is, she’ll need the fork to do so.

On the one hand, it's been an unrelentingly stupid year on my part. Still, it's been amazingly awesome. As a final point, I moved a whole ten miles south to go to school and wound up getting all sorts of Southernisms mixed into my speech. It makes as much sense as anything else, I suppose. I blame Firefly, maybe. But then, I haven't included any Chinese profanity in my speech patterns yet. You [frog-humping son of a bitch].

Ah, heck. Song for a moment: Bob Dylan - "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go"

Another poem, another long, crazy day, and another stroke of incoherence.

Actually, two days, containing two dinners, one of which stretched out to a breakfast and a lunch. Oh, fencing parties. It was the farewell dinner to all the fencing team seniors on Friday, which was followed by a party, which was followed by change of venue and a game of trivial pursuit, which was followed by an attempt to see dawn at the point (but it was a bit too foggy), which was followed by watching The Princess Bride and most of those remaining falling asleep, which was followed by breakfast at Bartlett, which was followed by watching the first six episodes of Coupling (British version, quite hilarious), which was followed by lunch at Pierce.

So, like most fencing parties, this one had a theme, which was the Titanic (yes, lovely for a finale, isn’t it?), and people were dressed appropriately as upper-class passengers or Irish immigrants. I myself borrowed a pair of suspenders and looked as ragged as possible.

And then, after sleeping for all of two hours or so Saturday, we had the Shady Dealer editorial dinner, which was not particularly impressive attendance-wise, but still fun. We went to the Smoke Daddy again, and it was once again excellent. The band was billed as electric bluegrass, and was excellent; sort of Grateful Dead-ish, with a very impressive guitarist.

And, as mentioned, I’ve put up another poem/song, titled "No Particular Night or Morning." Enjoy. or Despise, if you prefer.

Just one more week to get through: two papers, two finals, and a party or so. I can’t wait to be done. Much as I’m going to miss people, and much as this year has been great, I’d really like to be able to relax for a while, not to mention catch up with some crazy Chicagoans – alright, mostly suburbanites, but I won’t hold that against them.

Fucking implausible, man, fucking implausible…

Anyway, woot! Issue #2 of the Shady Dealer is out, and awesome, and available at http://shadydealer.rh.uchicago.edu . It’s truly a work of genius. And I only had to print, collate, and staple the first 300 copies myself. But we seem to have found a way to get free printing, though it is of… debatable… legitimacy. Wheee!

And in the process of delivering some of our copies, I got into a game of Mao. Mao is an incredible game, the rules of which I cannot possibly reveal. Especially not Darwin Fish. Except to say that Darwin Fish is meta-Mao.

Speaking of fish, Zach and I recently delivered a headless rubber fish to a member of a competing publication, with whom we have been having a bit of a spat. Some of our overzealous writers started putting the Dealer in the Chicago Weekly, and feathers were ruffled, but it seems mostly worked out now.

Oh, what a year. Now that I have a brief period without work, there is a distinct temptation to become retrospective. It’s been an amazing year. In the broad sense, I have no regrets. Fucking implausible year, though. Not actually bad overall, but frustrating at times, in a way that combines frustrating with absolutely incredibly fantastic. Yeah. So my themes are “fucking implausible” and “frustratingly fantastic.” But that’s the way it goes. But emphasis on fantastic: Shady Dealer, ScavHunt, Fencing team, dozens of crazy incidents which I’ve related here, and so forth. And some incredible friends. I’m just not sure I could explain how it all happened this way. It just doesn't make sense. Then again, I usually don't either, on a matter of principle.

Also, further update: The Shins are pretty damn good.

Christ. “New Slang” by The Shins is the most musically beautiful thing I’ve heard in a long while. And certainly no failure lyrically, though somewhat surreal.

Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall,
Never should have called
But my head's to the wall and I'm lonely.

And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, I'd 'a jumped from my tree
And I'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.
…
I'm looking in on the good life I might be doomed never to find.
Without a trust or flaming fields am I too dumb to refine?


It’s really just amazing. Wow.

Nothing else tonight. Happenings have been happening, but I’ll get back to that.

So I got back from camping yesterday. Wow. That was awesome. Two great days in the wilderness bracketed by modest road trips of significant awesomeness. This looks to become an annual trip, although we might should procure more car space next time.

Note that “might should” there. Camping makes me talk more Southern, it seems.

Anyway, Western Michigan was never so beautiful until this weekend. Bringing people up to see it for the first time (and not having been there much recently) really helped me recognize how great it is up there. Sunset on the Lake, seen from the dunes, was gorgeous, and we saw it twice, as well as getting in a fair amount of dune hiking in too, as well as the occasional dune ambush, dune tackling, and dune jumping-off-and-running-down-the-side. It was fun; I only bounced once, and Megan found my glasses without much trouble (I could not, as I was blind).

Megan was particularly amazing, as we would all have starved to death without her, and especially her suicidal disregard of fire. She did, however, escape with all her fingers mostly intact, and only actually set herself on fire once. And as further commendation to her bravery, she was willing to brave the screeching pig-dogs of the night (No really, we have no idea what it was, but it sounded like a cross between a dog and a dying pig, I swear, except imagine creepier than that). However, her insistence on carrying her shoes whilst walking straight into pointy dune grass bordered on foolhardy.

Not that I mean disparage the suicidal tendencies of our less experienced campers, of course. Amanda displayed a real enthusiasm for hypothermia, being the only one to swim in Lake Ergang completely of her own free will, although she did get two more to join here by various methods. I was gradually persuaded and dragged; Megan was tackled. It really wasn’t that cold once you got used to it. And by “used to it” I mean “completely numb.”

And I myself, as the would-be fireworks expert of the group, gave a brief seminar on “Things to Do with Bottle Rockets.” And no one was killed, even. And we produced some gigantic fabulous effects. And roman candles with questionable quality control.

And there was Mao, and fires, and a fish (caught by Zach). And we all made it back in one piece, by way of a borrowed Corolla and a 73-song camping playlist compiled by myself. And despite it being the wrong month on both counts, three more people are fans of the Decemberists. And rightly so:

“July, July, July! Never seemed so strange…”

-Pants full of sand, head full of crazy.
No really, there’s still sand in my goddamn pockets.