It has been a few days, hasn't it? Speaking of a few days: 4.

Anyway, for those interested, there's another poem up, "Crazy Ideas". For those not interested, an update:

So, for some reason, Judge Dredd never ceases to be amusing. Quoth Maciej, "The law uses tongue." Although properly speaking, Sylvester Stallone is "The Lauwhh" or something to that effect. Though the movie we actually watched at Altier's that day was City of Lost Children, which was quite bizarre and quite good, and in general stipulates that the universe acts as one massive Rube Goldberg machine. A single tear eventuially causes a ship to run aground, for example. Also, Ron Perlman is a French circus strongman.

Remarkably, I've been to the Quarry twice without ever seeing a movie there. This streak will have to end sooner or later, assuming I find more reasons to be deep in the southwest suburbs.

So, the next few weeks get crazy. This weekend there's a big family camping trip, from which I return Sunday. Then Tuesday I leave for Houston, visiting Megan and being generally elated, as I have not actually seen her since we started dating. That would be the "4" from earlier. I return the 22nd, and then the 23rd I am exposed to (conceivably) harmless drugs and shown disturbing images. I do that again on the 25th, and maybe try to wedge a day or so down at U of I in between. And then I'm back to mostly wide open schedule-wise. Of course, lots of folks will be gone by then. Best wishes and such to anybody I don't manage to see again.

Also, this is weird: http://www.hugi.is/hahradi/bigboxes.php?box_id=51208&f_id=842
Link provided to me by Ryan Rubin, also the first person besides me to buy Albatross Hour merchandise, thereby fulfilling my dream of having a dollar (after CafePress allows 45 days for returns).

And finally, a small piece of advice: DON'T SMOKE THALLIUM.

You know, I really like penguins, I really do. But they don’t seem to like me. Thursday, on our third attempt to go to March of the Penguins, we actually made it to the theater, at which point the projector broke down five minutes into the movie. We got refunds (or super-refunds, in the case of Kate, who got an Adult refund on a Student ticket). In any case, we fell back upon a strategy of night Frisbee, and fun was had by all.

In other news, I’ve got new glasses, made from that classiest of high-strength metals, titanium. Yeah, I know, incredibly sexy… and shiny, too. I assume this will enhance my night vision, maybe. But the good news is that I am slightly less blind than I was last time I got glasses. So, woot. Interestingly, when I tried to get less expensive frames, they just asked me if they could increase the discount. So, apparently I can haggle successfully, or something.

And… let’s see… Sky High is a much better movie than I expected. I mean, it’s got Bruce Campbell, and much amusing superhero-yness. Were you to strip down the plot to it’s basics, it would be a pretty standard high school comedy. But the fact that the cliques have superpowers really improves things, and there are some nice twists that you just couldn’t get outside of a superhero high school. And there’s some seriously fantastic comedic acting (protagonist support, if you will): the aforementioned Bruce Campbell as gym teacher; Kevin Heffernan as Ron Wilson, Bus Driver; And Kevin MacDonald, utterly ridiculous as Mr. Medulla, mad science teacher. So, yeah, seven thumbs up and all that.

And… off to finally see Too Much Light. Whee!

Ah, August. Well, a bit of a letdown so far, but I imagine it will pick up in week or two. It’s really a very promising month. Though July, as the song goes, was very strange.

Alright, so I promised apocalyptic destruction. You’ll have to settle for weird. But it’s really outstandingly bizarre. So, right, I explained the bit with Megan, which was completely unexpected, and would have made it a crazy month to begin with. However, the weird-shit-o-meter kicked up to 11 shortly thereafter, as, after much surreptitious facebook editing and behavior that was fishier than an offshore fishmarket run by legitimate Italian businessmen, Kate (yes, Kate my ex) began dating Zach (yes, Zach my roommate). Although it is technically true that this all began with Zach being very drunk, they seem to have risen above that (not that Zach is not, as I speak, very drunk, as that is entirely possible). And I’d like to say that I saw this coming, and I did, although for a time it was merely a strange unshakeable pit of terror and unease in my stomach. But I wish them well. And for the most part I am even convinced that they will not, somehow, kill us all.

It’s not that this greatly bothers me. It’s just one of the more bizarre coincidences I’ve ever witnessed, and one of the few where it seems plausible that a higher power is fully intent on screwing with my head. And so, for reasons too numerous and too obvious to list here, I feel I have a certain right to give them good-natured shit about this.

On an entirely separate subject, I will occasionally risk my own sanity for the sake of innuendo. Moving on…

Ah, yes, before I close the book on July, I must admit that there is one other event that defies probability. One fine Wednesday evening, I saw Murderball with folks. Murderball, I must say, is probably the first movie to make being confined to a wheelchair totally frickin' sweet. Wheelchair rugby is a crazy sport, with colorful character and Mad Max machinery. Go see Murderball if you can. God damn filthy Canucks…

And so, upon returning to Maciej’s car, it was discovered that the right rear door was open – wide open, not just unlocked. This was, in fact, the very door through which I exited the vehicle. Yes, I am that stupid. I left the car door open. However, nothing was stolen, most likely because a car with the door wide open is highly suspicious, and most likely a cunning trap. I fear this incident will never be forgotten, especially now that I have committed it to the internet.

So yeah… July was a little weird, a lot of fun. Bring it on, August.

WHEEEEEEEEE!

So...I suppose this is pretty much accurate for me....especially since I laughed out loud when I read the phrase "very very fat person dancing."

the Cutting Edge (65% dark, 43% spontaneous, 33% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN SPONTANEOUS DARK Your humor's mostly innocent and off-the-cuff, but somehow there's something slightly menacing about you. Part of your humor is making people a little uncomfortable, even if the things you say aren't in and of themselves confrontational. You probably have a very dry delivery, or are seriously over-the-top. Your type is the most likely to appreciate a good insult and/or broken bone and/or very very fat person dancing. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: David Letterman - John Belushi

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 89% on dark You scored higher than 26% on spontaneous You scored higher than 42% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

A brief interlude:

the Wit (60% dark, 26% spontaneous, 5% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN COMPLEX DARK You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean you're pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat. I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most effort to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion. Also, you probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 89% on dark You scored higher than 0% on spontaneous You scored higher than 0% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

http://www.bigad.com.au/

Best beer commercial ever.

Watch it now.

Every time fate digs and escape tunnel, it also releases the hounds. Remember that. It’ll make sense in a bit. However, it’s not presently important.

You may have noticed a lot of cryptic pronouncements in this blog of late, a lot of not explaining things. Actually, you may have noticed a more general trend starting in February. But no more! The time of Clarification is upon us! Also the Quickening… sort of… it’s tangentially involved… maybe Doomsday, but metaphorically… I can’t explain. Anyway, Clarity is a bit of a bust here…

The time of Reduced Ambiguity is upon us!

As many of you know, I have had the Woman Troubles. And if you remember, there was a particularly Troubling Woman in the February area, and a lot of profanity. However, Megan and I went on being close friends, contrary to the advice of pretty much all of our other friends. Such as, for example, Zach, who used the phrase “Get over her” more times than I could count with an industrial steam-powered abacus. However, I went on being flagrantly in love with the girl and had a rather good time of it, mild awkwardness aside, and Megan continued “leading me on”. And while there was a great deal of her dating people who were not me, we managed to work around that, and I eventually even managed to put aside the idea of dating her, for the most part. Not that I was very good at that. I have a bit of a hopeless romantic streak.

Once in a great while, optimism pays off. Pure lunatic stubbornness succeeds against all likelihood. This is the sort of thing that leads other to consider optimism, despite their better judgment. Most of them are hit by trucks shortly thereafter. The really foolish ones remain optimists.

So, this summer, after a series of long conversations occurring in the wee to dear-God-early hours of the morning, Megan and I are, for lack of a better term, dating. I take no credit for this, but I am incredibly spectacularly happy, as I failed to explain a few posts ago. Things just suddenly fell into place, as it were, after a long process that involved a great deal of poetry and tackling and sunset-watching, and have been fantastic since, except for the bit where we had to tell Zach about it, which was for the most part amusing, as it took him about a page to figure out that we weren’t kidding. I only wish I could have seen him gasp and his bug out in person. And while he was a bit abrasive along the way, that’s why he’s so lovable. Yeah, Zach and love in the same geographic area; you’d be surprised… *cough*

Anyway, I really have no idea how I’m going to work in a proper number of wry one-liners now. But that’s the gist of it. Being in love makes the world a happy place.

I, for one, never though to give Texas this much credit. However, it’s produced at least one marvelously adorable, intelligent, beautiful, capable-of-gutting-a-fish-and-beating-me-in-Halo-possibly-at-the-same-time girl. And that’s all I need.

Damn, it's hard to post in that vein without feeling like an idiot. If you feel gypped, I offer you dire warnings of apocalyptic terror in future posts.

!

!!

!!!

Well, to keep the delay from being entirely ridiculous...

Hi, everybody. This was a fantastic week. Intonation was awesome. Highlights for me were the Decemberists and an extremely positive introduction to The Hold Steady, who oddly enough share the quality fo having slightly pudgy front men with weird vocals. But what's important was that it works for both of them.

And there was water, and dirt, and some foolish person (who shall not be named) produced mud. And therewere clouds, and and a FAQ, and a Steve, and hipster-spotting. A great show all-around.

And heck, we even reunited "the band" this week. Demonstrating that once in a while, you can get four people into the same place.

And there were some absolutely marvelous developments elsewhere.

Anyway, I'm packing to go to Michigan for a family vacation, so I'm in a bit of a hurry here. I'll get back to Chicago on Saturday. Enjoy Lolla, everybody.

Well, the past couple day certainly compensated for the lack of social activity on Thursday, I must say. Though I still need to get "the band" back together. But other than that, a most excellent period.

The main show being Blancofest parts One and Deaux, wherein two extremely sober men (and Tim Marco) sang "I Love Pat Lange" repeatedly, to Andrew WK's "I Love New York City". "Blitzkrieg Bop" was similarly altered. It was during this period I decided I needed a strong drink. Also, there was a Russian dog named Gershwin, or a Gershwin dog named Russian, but either way, it understood abstract concepts, mostly "Vengeance" and "Guilt". I only kicked it accidentally, but I was immediately retributed upon. And Kevin Altier go sooo many drunk dials, it's not even funny. Actually, it's hilarious. I blame Wisconsin. Failing that, alcohol. I was not involved, being possibly the only one not to drunk dial him Friday. Although he was not alone in foolishly occupying another state. It was unusually common.

Also of not, Fischer-Price makes an excellent turntable, meaning record player. Yes, it was a Fischer-Price record player, which Nic owned from his childhood. And there was much rejoicing (and playing of records).

Above and beyond that (which was a lot of fun), I am unexplainably happy. So. Whee!

~Summer in the city,

Shoot. Took my cell phone out of my pocket and forgot it was on vibrate only. So I guess I'll catch up with folks later. Sorry everybody. Ah, minor details that screw you over. Anyway...

Everything that Alex said was true. How could you resist a movie that has love, war, magic, and comedy? Although the castle is strikingly similar in style to the works of Monty Python, most of the rest of the movie isn't. But it's still good.

So, fascinating day. Two semi-plans, then no plans, then one plan, then no plans, then potential plans, and then that bit with the phone. Anyway, I'm going to start bloggin legimtiately again soon rahter that whining about how technology is betraying me, really I am. In the meanwhile, you probably weren't expecting this:



Stuck in my head for no apparent reason:
"You Can Get It If You Really Want"

In honor of Pat's revamping of the blog with lovely blue tones, I've decided to grace you all with a post. As my co-host mentioned earlier, the summer usually means a cut-back in the amount of blogging that actually gets done, but I don't think we've fallen too terribly behind. (Stay tuned for a review of Thelonious Monk's It's Monk's Time)

Last night, I was fortunate enough to see the film "Howl's Moving Castle" at the overpriced Yorktown theater. For those of you who have never heard of this movie, it is a Japanese anime by the director of the epic "Spirited Away," Hayao Miyazaki. For those of you who haven't seen/heard of "Spirited Away" I suggest you seek it out, just to say that you saw it. But back to the movie at hand. "Howl's Moving Castle", unlike "Spirited Away" is not a Miyazaki original. It's actually based on a novel and, for this reason, I think that it's a much tighter film, in terms of its plot, than "Spirited Away."

Centered around an un-named fantasy/futuristic world, it tracks the struggles of 19 year-old Sophie as she is cursed into becoming a 90-year old woman. Wizard's, witches, and airships abound as Sophie finds herself amongst the company of a Billy Crystal voiced fire-demon and bouncing scarecrow. The plot is set during a war between two rival countries, as Sophie works to understand the brooding wizard Howl and his motives.

The visuals are sweeping and epic, while the story is worthwhile (if not a tad corny near the end). Although darker than "Spirited Away," all's well that ends well in "Howl's Moving Castle." Although I can't say I like one film more than the other, I strongly recommend both, even if you're the type of person that has no interest in anime whatsoever. You will not be disappointed.

If you are interested in reading what my roommate from last year had to say about the film, head on over to Here Be Cannibals

Grrr. Why is the internet fucking with me? Bad e-mail. Work properly, so that I may communicate things to others in a reasonable timespan, damn it!

This meaningless utterance of frustration was brought to you by the letter 'A', on account of it having a sharp point with which to stab things if necessary.

Otherwise fine. Slowly adjusting blog to aesthetic ideal, and such. Doings transpiring, more later.

Ending transmission... wait for it... now!

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.

Hee! Going camping! Off to Michigan with Zach, Megan, and Amanda. Back Monday.

Also, the first issue of the Chicago Shady Dealer is mad and distributed. The first issue can be found here: http://shadydealer.rh.uchicago.edu . It’s been very well received so far, with the exception of the people who could make us a registered student organization. Presently, we’ve declared ourselves a Renegade Student Organization and decided to press on with other means of getting funding (on account of our first issue being printed on a borrowed and slightly obsolete Korean laser printer).

Wheeeeeeee!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a staff. The first general meeting of The Chicago Shady Dealer occurred today at 7:30 PM. There were at least 20 people. We have a staff, and an extremely enthusiastic staff, at that. The general mood among the editors is ecstasy mixed with a shocked disbelief that we are actually getting away with this. We’re founding a publication. Much of the credit for this goes to Zach, who doggedly went about establishing the organizational groundwork for all this, and is rightly our Editor-in-Chief. The first issue of The Chicago Shady Dealer comes out the week after next, and as layout editor, I shall rapidly be figuring out what I can do with Microsoft Word and Publisher, as well as writing an article in honor of our faculty sponsor, “Foolish Professor Stakes Reputation on Upstart Publication, Doomed to Disappointment.”

Sweet Zombie Jesus, we’re founding a publication. When we get this printed, we are having a hell of a party.

And before that, there was a baseball game. Orioles 6, Sox 2, with the Sox carrying on the grand tradition of the home team losing whenever I attend a game, not that this was particularly bothersome for me as a Cubs fan. Zach became a Sox fan just to spite me, which is very much a Sox fan thing to do, I must say. Anyway, a good time was had by all, and it didn’t even rain on us.

My other project this weekend has been to introduce people to the miracle that is Firefly. Both Zach and Megan are now thoroughly hooked, having been shown about half a season, and several other folks have been introduced to the first few episodes. I love space westerns. And the writing is spectacular. And the characters are just insanely great. The badassossity of Mal, The crazy mercenary-ness of Jayne (and the hat! and Vera!), and especially Wash, who has to be seen to be explained.

“Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”
“The legs, definitely the legs… Have you ever been with a warrior woman?”

So, anyway, Firefly is a thing of raw joy, which I can quote at length if need be. And we’re founding a publication, which is going to be amazing, because people are actually going to write things for us, and these things are already awesome.

“Facebook Founder Discovered to Have no Friends, Face”

Congrats on the radio gig, Alex.

And so, in what should not be construed as a blatant attempt to steal Alex’s thunder, I think I should report on the progress of a project here at U of C. For some time now, Zach, myself, and several other folk have been trying to start up The Chicago Shady Dealer. Basically, it’s going to be a U-of-C-centered version of The Onion. We’ve already written bylaws and such, come up with articles, and, against all plausibility, developed an organization. And today we got a faculty sponsor: Ted Cohen, Philosophy professor and the foremost American expert on jokes. I’m not kidding. Read his resume:

http://philosophy.uchicago.edu/data/cv/CohenCV.pdf

His primary work is “Jokes”, which has been translated into several languages, including Finnish and Korean. Within 15 minutes of agreeing to be our sponsor, he sent us a rough draft of an article. We nearly plotzed. My exact words.

It’s going to be one hell of a year. Here are the headlines for a series I have planned:

Leftist Revolutionaries Rise Up, Staff Table
Leftist Revolutionaries Cut Losses, Abandon Table
Leftist Revolutionaries Sell Out, Join Graduate School of Business

Although, in more equivocal news, my bid to enter politics has failed, and I shall not be the fencing team’s webmaster. Ah well. My opponent was far more motivated. And strangely, it was the most hotly debated of the fencing club positions, judging by the time the voting went on.

And finally, let me just add that understanding that all of one’s instincts appear to be horribly wrong provides no help whatsoever, because once you start instinctively distrusting your instincts… well, it gets complicated.

So…hopefully this post will save us all from Pat’s oxymoronic ramblings. I have recently been hired as the Jazz Format Manager at Grinnell’s very own KDIC Radio 88.5fm. Other than getting paid 200 big-ones per semester, I am also responsible for contacting various record labels and getting them to send me more jazz and/or blues music so we can play it on the air. I then decide which of this music to play, and then keep track of the general jazz/blues catalog. If you haven’t already figured out, this is quite awesome. I am actually getting paid to be a part of the wonderful world of radio. It’s a particularly good bit of news considering the success/failure of my film festival submission at Grinnell. (I’m still trying to grasp the awesomeness of my award.) Anyway, since I have been granted the power to control jazz within a 20-mile radius of Grinnell, I thought I’d post about another jazz album. (This, hopefully, will counteract the postings of my colleague). So, without further ado:



Underground--Thelonious Monk
In my review of Porgy and Bess, I mentioned Thelonious Monk and his brilliance. I now intend to follow up on that statement. But first, a little history. One fascinating thing about Monk is that he wrote the majority of his songs before his thirties and then proceeded to re-record them with different arrangements, first primarily on Riverside Records and then on Columbia (which some consider to be his “sell-out” period). All the albums that I actually own are from Columbia, so I can’t make a judgment either way; all I can say is that they’re damn good. It’s also important to note Monk’s unique style on the keys. Some may call Monk a musical humorist. He would play a note that sounds clearly wrong, but the next time through the entire band would play the note. This gave his compositions a magnificently original sound. Unfortunately, it was also the reason why some failed to take his music seriously. Still, that didn't stop him from helping to create the style of jazz that we know as BeBop.

Underground was released in 1968, toward the end of Monk’s recording career. However, some jazzophiles consider this somewhat of a comeback album for Thelonious. As mentioned above, Monk was into re-recording the same compositions over and over. Underground marked the release of three original tracks: “Ugly Beauty” (the only Monk composition to be written in walz-time), “Green Chimneys” and “Boo-Boo’s Birthday.” All three of these tracks are certainly winners, but the success of Underground goes even further. It actually won a Grammy for best cover art. (Which is why I made sure to post a picture. Is it not awesome?)

The album kicks off with an older composition—“Thelonious.” This track swings along with the quartet. Over two decades old, this was one of the first tracks Monk recorded for the Blue Note label. Excellent piano-work by Monk and quality drumming by Ben Riley help the album to get off on the right foot. “Ugly Beauty” slows down the pace a bit, and Charlie Rouse steals the song with a smooth tenor sax. The next track, “Raise Four” is certain to jolt you awake if you’d been dozing. Monk throws down a piano theme so angular, it will make your neck hurt. Yet, it has an almost hypnotic quality. “Boo Boo’s Birthday” is a more standard track featuring another quality performance by Rouse and another great theme from Monk. “Easy Street” sounds just like its title, a laid back jazz standard featuring Monk exploring the ivory while Riley and Larry Gales set a walking pace for him to dance around. Roles switch a bit mid track as Gales whips out a bow and solos it up. The epic “Green Chimneys” follows thereafter with a playful tone that makes all too much sense when one learns that the composition is named for the school that Monk’s daughter attended. The quartet works well together here and creates a very full sound (Riley also has a truly righteous drum solo). Things wrap up with an older Monk composition—“In Walked Bud.” This is the real surprise of the album as Jon Hendricks stops by to lend his vocals. This track is just so swinging that I can’t help but call it one of my all-time favorites from Monk.

So there you have it. If you bothered to read all that, you now know what I have to say about Thelonious Monk’s Underground. If you liked what you read, go ahead and pick it up. But you don’t have to start here; in fact, you can rarely go wrong with Monk.

And because I want to leave you with something humorous and liberal:
When Bill Clinton was first running for the presidency, he went on countless shows and gave countless interviews. Clinton was a pretty hip guy. In fact, he even did an interview for MTV. During this interview, Clinton was asked what he dreamt of doing. He replied that he had always wanted to play sax with Thelonious Monk. To which the interviewer replied, “And who was the loneliest monk?”
I want my MTV.

Cheers.

I don’t think I’ve ever been called “good with emotions” before. More proof that I am at my best when I have absolutely no clue what I am doing. Ah well.

So, on the upside, I think it can be safely said that I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.

And I’ve got this damnable streak of optimism that I keep thinking is going to get me killed sooner or later. Really, some days that’s all there is to it. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s the weather and the fact that I didn’t wear shoes all day (well, only to Bartlett, but that’s because it’s required). Maybe it’s because we won ScavHunt and the Max P scav team is such an awesome group to hang out with, which I did at dinner after another valiant effort to clean up our former headquarters and get housing to give back our deposit. Also, for the sake of future ScavHunts, I shall be storing a wall-hung toilet over the summer. It’s funny how these things happen.

So back to the lack of shoes…

Because the weather finally seems up to it, and because I’ve been wanting to all year, and because I am at heart a dirty hippy, I have declared this week to be no-shoes week. Also, there shall not be socks, which will also save on laundry. Initial results suggest I will have to wash my feet regularly to avoid becoming an actual dirty hippy. But it’s perfectly feasible to go unshod on the quad, as it were, although it would be more fun if the grass weren’t so dead at the moment.

Maybe at some point we can examine the existential dilemma between my inherent optimistic streak and the number of things I suspect will kill me…

Sometimes things are weird. Sometimes they get weirder. Sometimes things get mind-blowingly weirder. Occasionally, things don’t actually get weirder per se, but they get weird off in perpendicular new ways which, while they don’t particularly affect the situation, make the whole structure that much more impressive. I made a flowchart. It’s kind of scary…

But that doesn’t matter, because we won ScavHunt. For lo, we are Team Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds. So, technically, we tied with Snell-Hitchcock for 1st, but that’s not important. We won, damn it, and produced some of the most brilliant, inspired lunacy I have ever witnessed:

-The penis is evil. Walt Whitman is Zardoz.
-A nativity scene for the golden calf on the roof of the business school.
-President Randel, randaling for you.
-A hat which holds two can of your beverage, an entire bag of tortilla chips, and dip.
-A guitar-sword. And a man with a guitar-sword, jumping off a building while screaming “ROCK AND ROLL!” There was also a fog machine and a strobe light. Dave Valley is Guitar Wolf.
-200 water balloons used in 30 seconds.
-A 2004 electoral foosball table.
-The super bowl shuffle, now with more cowbell.
-A man in drag with a mullet.
-A sit’n’spin with a pole dancer.
-A working calliope, made from an old TV, eight recorders, and a hell of a lot of tubing.
-Pennies with our logo on them
-Archie Meets the Punisher
-Some really moving stationery
-A potato cannon destroying itself
-A trebuchet
-www.theassbook.net
-Did I mention that the guitar-sword was fucking awesome? Because it was beautiful. It was a fucking guitar-katana, actually. Sliced clean through a UFO.

Woot. Ah well, back to the ordinary humdrum insanity of my normal life.

Sweet.

Some people are witty.

And so, I have a place to live next year, staying here in Woodward with Zach (God help me), except next year we’ve got Southern exposure and a better view. Zach vows to turn the room into a “bastion of manliness.” I am only slightly perturbed by this.

In other news, I should not be allowed to make impulse purchases. While I was buying laundry detergent at Walgreen’s, I also wound up purchasing a rather potent water gun, which calls itself a “power blaster.” It works quite well, although I don’t even know if we’ll have a second round of Assassins for me to use it, but if we do, it will be rechristened “Big Genghis.”

So, Scavhunt begins in approximately 24 hours. I am preparing to build crazy shit, do crazy shit, delegate crazy shit to crazy people, and not sleep for nearly 96 hours straight – And of course, trying not to do anything hideously stupid while hideously sleep-deprived (including, but certainly not limited to, placing my hand in the path of an electric drill).

Hopefully, no one will be killed.

And… damn, it’s been a while, so I’ve got an impressive pile of happenings. So on Saturday, we had the President Randel Open (a fancing tournament). This time, I didn’t come in last, although I still have yet to beat any male epeeists. Megan vows to kick my ass in retribution.

Then there was fencing team dinner, followed by poker hijinx back here with Amanda, Rob, and Chris, as well as a certain Mr. Smirnoff. All three of them had to be introduced to the glory of Futurama, which was done with all due haste. Next project: spread the gospel of Firefly, which I brought back from home today. I maintain that it is like unto Christ come to earth in episodic sci-fi form. It’s that good.

Also, Moulin Rouge is a very strange and perhaps slightly melodramatic movie, but also, well, spectacular. It has rather a lot of impact when one is in the mood for it. I watched it with Megan on Sunday. Also, I spent about half of Sunday eating two consecutive brunches, once with Megan, once with the aftereffects of a fencing meeting. And then there were bylaws. I’m going to need a new entry to describe what the bylaws were for, so…

Something happened Friday… ah yes. I saw Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy downtown on a house trip. I fully recommend it; it’s a pretty good adaptation, not nearly as funny as the books, but with an excellent song and dance number featuring dolphins. Casting had its flaws, but Alan Rickman makes a magnificent Marvin (the Paranoid Android). “I’d like you all to know I’m feeling very depressed.” Also, if you have the misfortune of not having read the original books, you should do so, because they are works of transcendent genius.

And then I went home Monday, returning today with Firefly, sleeping bags, a tent, pants, and an electric drill (see foreshadowing above). Guess which two items above are meant for the house camping trip.

And just when I thought things couldn’t make any less sense… well, no actually, it still doesn’t all particularly make sense, but I feel better about it. Ah well. As Karl Marx once said, “Synthesis is a bitch.” His exact words...