So, I know I haven't posted all summer and I apologize for that, but I'm just dropping in now to tell you that I may not be posting for the next 4.5 months, depending on how my internet access goes. You see, I'm heading off to Sri Lanka today for a semester abroad. I'll try to stay alive. In case anyone needs to send me anything here's my address (no firearms or narcotics, please):

Alex McKinley
The ISLE Center
75 Dangolla Road
Kandy, Sri Lanka


Have a great rest of the summer and fall semester, everyone.

What a weird summer. Too much time to think, not enough time to do things. But things keep happening anyway. Still most weekdays I work, I practice guitar, and I write; it's very self-contained. I'm going to hit the school year with a lot of strange pent-up energy, I think. I actually caught myself wanting to write a paper today... I mean, not, you know, a random paper on something that doesn't interest me, but I was looking at taking a poetry class, what with poetry/songwriting being my attempted calling. You know: read, listen, absorb, experience. Let it all percolate, and then express it.

It kind of surprised me lately to realize that I, in effect, hang out with a bunch of artists -- musicians, film-makers, photographers, even the odd architect. Although someone else recently summed it up as "the music nerds, " which is also accurate. But hey, it's only a matter of time until I know some rock stars, so I've got that going for me.

You'd think I would have noticed that trend earlier, but then I've never been very perceptive; I'm working on that too.

In vaguely practical matters, I saw Pirates 2 (or rather, PotC:DMC, as the is no official numeral) this week, and I was vastly entertained. Somewhere very early on that movie went from being a cliche summer blockbuster to busting one's block with gusto and enthusiasm. Certainly by the time the Atlasphere tribute came around. Visual spectacle, rollicking (and often rolling) good time. I give it 3 and a half dubloons.

also in practical matters, I am highly sleep deprived. See y'all when the weekend hits.

and finally, a quote out of context:
"If Jerry Garcia went around delivering presents, Christmas would be a lot stranger."
-Casey

oof. I hate Mondays (note that I am neither on fire nor being sodomized... so things could be worse). For anyone who's horribly disturbed by that sentence, I swear it's a reference. Anyway...

Good weekend. Friday is oddly hazy, although I'm going to blame that on sleep deprivation and the manic pace of weekends, as I do remember quite a few details. Horrifying details. Oh dear lord. Fun though; my introduction to the wonders of the Friday-night Kelly Boyle's tradition.

Saturday was one of those nights that confirm everything I believe in. Sometimes, chaos works better than a plan. Went up to Evanston to trespass on abeach, scouting party found it was an apocalypse of insects, regrouped, wound up on the North Side at a random party by UIUC connection (which we were somewhat cliquish at, but meh. next time). That led to walking out to Belmont harbor. And... it was transcendent. The moon was out over the relatively calm lake water, which was... gleaming? shimmering? sparkling? in sort of a soft trail from the horizon toward us. So we just stared at that for a while. Only second time in my life I remember seeing the moon over the lake like that, and both times it's been literally stunning. A thing of epic beauty. And then you turn around and there the Chicago skyline. I was kinda loopy for the rest of the night, and that was only on one drink (although I suppose it could have been heat stroke too...). And Alex was there, in an unusual occurrence (which is probably my fault as much as anything, as I've gotten used to unconnected social circles).

I was going to edit Pat's most recent post because I think it makes him look bad, but I think I'd rather just irk him.

Being a CompSci major and all, working with Unix machines, I've built up a decent amount of goodwill towards Macs. We have nice ones in the lab, and they're usually useful. Fairly well-designed OS, even.

But dear God, their latest advertising is doing a good job of destroying it. I don't need some smarmy jackass shoving straw man arguments down my throat and telling me that Macs are some unstoppable race of supercomputers. Macs crash and have issues too. They have their shortcomings, their software shortages, burnt-out logic processors, their spinning-color-wheel-of-death moments. But the main thing is, I find their spokesman unbelievably irritating. Really, I find their entire corporate philosophy irritating; they seem to go out of their way to be pretentious and smug at every turn. So I'll probably just have to start running Linux at some point. Linux folks are smug from time to time too, but all the software is open-source.

Pet peeves aside, all goes well. I had my face melted Tuesday, by the one and only Javier and the Bear. Somebody needs to get these gentlmen some decent gigs, seriously. They get better every time I see them, and they were pretty much an unstoppable force already musically. Now they have advanced to Stage Presence. Most of them actually look like Rock Stars, although the more stylistically-minded can elaborate further. If anyone here hasn't heard Javier and the Bear, shame on you, you poor deprived child. Here is a band with firepower, and one need only look at Joe "the Fro" O'Connor's shattered cymbal to understand just how hard these guys rock. fast and loud, sure, but fast, loud, and tight, with that epic thunder-and-lightning classic rock sound that melts faces, shatters eardrums, and will surely make women swoon if they can just get an audience (although this is the first time I've paid to see them in any fashion, so that's a step up). Also, some entertaining-to-awesome original songs. The show was reportedly recorded, so we'll see if some decent mp3's show up.

And, for the sake of maintining this procedure, new poetry up, you should be able to spot it by now. I do date everything as it's published, after all.

Time to make some belated additions to the link section, both hailing from the U of C:

-Meredith is off in Japan, to learn or something, but primarily to have wacky cross-cultural hijinx and be mistaken for Godzilla (tall-ish, she is, though to be fair, significantly less lizard-like).

-Louis the Pig is a rather entertaining webcomic by some folks I know. Currently on hiatus, but poke around the archives. A depressed pig can be surprisingly funny.

You know, I really like bluegrass. It’s folk (or country) music on speed. Even the saddest bluegrass song is full of manic banjo-picking goodness. Happy bluegrass is joy in a bottle. And I’ve been listening to it since yesterday. Thank you, Pandora. And especially the Dillards, who, among other things, covered “I’ve Just Seen a Face” and turned it into a bluegrass staple.

Anyway:
Diary of the Proletariat, Day 8:
-Overtime! Two extra hours today because of a safety seminar (don’t get hit by forklifts, kids! I'm sorry, industrial lifting trucks). Sadly, no German forklift safety video.

-Brilliantly, sandblasting equipment features gaps whereby certain smallish parts may fall into the sand reservoir. That was an adventure.

-Felt poetic for a while. That was fun. I also realized I haven’t read much good poetry, or prose for that matter, in quite a while. The poetry part is being remedied by a book I picked of the Reg’s “free books” pile at the end of the year.

-In general, did a lot of thinking (what else am I going to do?). Mostly about poetry, songwriting, and considerations related thereto. I also realized my philosophical side has been heavily suppressed, probably because of the general air of pretension that seems to surround such things at the U of C. Still, it’s much easier to succeed as a poet when you have thoughts and feelings about things. Although even calling myself a poet feels a bit pretentious. There’s this cultural tradition wherein poet is a half-step from prophet, fire on the mountaintop, wisdom from on high. Inspiration is likened to the voice of God. But I write poetry; I am a poet. Any act of expression or creation, in at least a small way, is a proclamation: “My thoughts are worth writing down! My observations are worthwhile!” But this is the blog generation; we should all be used to that feeling by now. Heck, blogging and poetry have a lot in common. Certainly, the intersection of bad blogging and bad poetry is the heart of many a livejournal. And this is why, as a last measure of protection, I keep my poetry on a separate page. And, er…

“Food for thought… Though from food!”

-NEXT TIME: The exciting world of jury duty, in which I try to figure out why the hell I have been assigned to the courthouse in Rolling Meadows!

Diary of the Proletariat, Day 7.
-Oh god, it's morning again. 4:30 alarms are brutal. I will fiercely hate the world until I down a Pepsi five minutes before the shift starts.

- Very few things in a factory fail to produce some ungodly mess. For example, sand-blasting leaks sand all over the gorram place, and that's one of the cleaner operations. Today I was on the drill press, and let me tell you, when you drill 2,464 holes (616 pieces, 4 holes each) through brass hinge-dealies, you get a metric fuckton of brass shavings... possibly just an actual metric ton. I kept finding bits of brass in my hair. Other than that, running a drill press pretty much just involves putting things in and hitting buttons, so it's not a bad deal.

- Speaking of drills, a drill ate one of my gloves. It was a little alarming. Hooray for tear-away rubber gloves. The real bitch was peeling the thing off (rubber gloves, while required for safety, catch on everything).

- When I'm caffeinated enough, I apparently start trying to write bluegrass songs. I'll see where that goes. I'm seeing songwriting as the best shot I have at mental productivity here, especially as no one else will actually hear me if I try to sing my way through it. I myself should probably wear earplugs if they put me on the drill again. Not much in a factory is quiet either.

-And a thought from my drive home: "Hey! that police car just made a left turn without signalling! That bastard!"

Oh, weekends. Working on an Intonation review, but the gist of it will likely be how awesome Jon Brion is. But speaking on working, time to get ready for bed. Goddamn 6AM shift at the switch factory. Gotta start writing down me "Diary of the Proletariat" too (there's not a lot to do mentally in a factory besides self-narrate). Early conclusions: Sand-blasting is more fun than buffing. Keep that in mind.

Alright, the good news is I'm going to Pitchfork. And that will be thoroughly awesome. Also, the Mountain Goats are fantastic.

And the bad news is... ha! you thought there would be bad news, didn't you? Well, serves you right for expecting cliches to be fulfilled. I have nothing but good news this time around.

The good news is that my job is starting tomorrow, and I will begin earning cash monies. Now, some would point to the 6 AM start time (not tomorrow, but all my other days of work) as bad news, but I'm going to disregard that and consider it a fantastic opportunity to see more sunrises than usual.

The other good news is that a housewarming party is in the works for my apartment sometime in July. Yes, of course you're invited! I mean, assuming I know you. Anyway, it's sure to be fantabulous. Details once I figure them out etc.

The other other good news is that we were not hit by a tornado earlier today at the Altier lake house. Although rain during our attempted boating expedition was a mixed blessing, at best. And man, does small-town America love Jesus, but the ice cream makes up for it. Not that I don't love Jesus and all.

Also, U-S-A! U-S-A!

Also, he who is not jumping is not Slovak.

Finally, for those interested, I am still writing poetry/songs. "Memories" is up in the archive.

Right... long delay. Much intermittent goodness/wackiness.

We won ScavHunt. I was personally an affront to God, country, and all human decency. And that's not even counting what I did with that cigar. I'll tell you later.

Right now:
-I am surrounded by twenty-some quietly humming Linux machines.
-I'm running on 4 hours of sleep, with no plans for further sleep until after noon tomorrow
-I am wearing my last clean shirt, which is Italian and comically small.
-I have one bottle of Pepsi, two bags of pretzels, three scoopfuls of Runts, and enough Fourier transforms to choke a small, periodic, horse.
-I am cursing the fact that my TA wrote a really potentially helpful program which WILL NOT COMPILE.
-By God, this computer will produce recognizable vowels in a mathematically sound way by 10:30am.

I'll see you all after I finish this goddamned project and die horribly.

For Scav Purposes

3536 S Lowe

Click and increase google relevance chicanery.

This week I have
-Eaten a lot of Easter ham.
-Signed a lease. (5339 S Kimbark, Huzzah!)
-Snuck around like a crazy paranoid lunatic, playing assassins
-Appeared as a candidate in a student government debate, dressed in gold shirt, blue tie, and east German jacket.
-Composed a half-awesome, half-poor melody for clarinet
-Attempted to tune a child-sized guitar, somewhat unsuccessfully
-Thoroughly enjoyed The Life Pursuit. The really impressive thing is it took me about 6 listens to "Another Sunny Day" to actually remember the melody, and not just that it was incredibly good.

-Realized I should elaborate on some of these events, and several others.

Shady Dealer Marathon #12: The Dirty Dozenth

Soundtrack:
Phil Ochs, Farewells & Fantasies
Portastatic, "I Wanna Know Girls"
www.Pandora.com, heavily customized.

This is how we work see? We forget about the blog for the first half of the month and then make up for it with a flurry of posts at the very end. Honestly, though, this isn't going to be much of a post. I just wanted to give you all a link to what I believe is the greatest news report in the history of the world.

Check it Out

Here, ladies and gentlemen, is the post I promised yesterday. Incidentally, it's also the 270th post on this blog. That's quite a few, but it seems less impressive when you consider the fact that we've been operating since 2003. There were certainly some lean times over the years, but I believe that we have at least one post for every month of our existence, which probably puts us in the top percentile of functioning blogs, considering the countless numbers that are created every day and subsequently abandoned. I've gone ahead and added another link to the "cool people" section, but it's up to you to figure out who's responsible for the interesting posts that wind up there. Anyway, on to the business at hand.
Pat, Peter, and I went to see "Tsotsi" at the fine Lake Theater in Oak Park this past Wednesday. The movie had recently won the Academy Award for best foreign language film. I can't really comment on whether or not it should have won the award, since I am not familiar with the other films in the category, but "Tsotsi" was certainly enjoyable, if not a little unusual.

It takes place in South Africa and follows the experiences of a young thug whose life takes a bizarre turn when he accidentally abducts an infant during a carjacking. This, of course, changes him, as his amoral attitude is shed and his basic human nature comes through. The film seems to suggest that all humans are basically good, or have some sense of "decency" as one character might say. It is our basic human-ness which becomes and equalizer. The two main female characters are exemplary of this. Both care for their children over themselves and you could not claim that one is a better mother than the other. Neither woman is immune to tragedy. The poor woman's husband was killed and the rich woman's wealth cannot prevent the crimes committed against her. Ultimately, the film's conclusion tells us that although we may be united through our human-ness, we must all account for our transgressions sooner or later, as this is the only way to preserve a crumbling society where basic human nature is often clouded.

All in all, a quality film.

Keep it real, folks.

So now that Pat’s atoned for his neglect of the blog, I figure I must do the same. After all, there comes a time in every good blogger’s life when he realizes just how severely he has forgotten about the dang thing. He then vows to turn over a new leaf and post several times per week, if not every day. This lasts for exactly 1-2 days until something shiny catches his attention, and the cycle begins anew. Friends and colleagues, consider this the point in the cycle where I vow to turn over a new leaf. Don’t get your hopes up, though. I go back to school in a week, where there will doubtlessly be a plethora of shiny objects.

Anyway, since Pat recapped his spring-break week, I will do the same (though I swear I came up with the idea before I saw that he had done it). Grinnell, being the fine establishment that it is, gives its students two weeks for their spring break, which means that I’ll probably be bored out of my mind next week, as everyone else has returned to school. Still, the past week was interesting.

It began with a trip to The Jazz Showcase down on Clark and Grand last Sunday to see the James Carter Organ Trio. That was highly entertaining and the band was certainly having a good time. Most of the songs (especially those with the auxiliary percussionist) were based around the band getting into a groove and then building up and breaking down the intensity around the soloists. Carter was quite impressive, getting a number of different sounds out of the three different reeds he played throughout the show, and also sampling from different styles of jazz during his solos. When he quoted the horn line from Bill Cosby and Quincy Jones’ classic “Hikky Brr,” the drummer just laughed and shook his head, as did I. In conclusion, nothing beats a good matinee jazz set.


Now...on to other developments. I was accepted into the International Sri Lanka Education Program, which means that from the first week of August to the middle of December, I’ll be studying abroad on an island of the Southern coast of India. Wacky, huh? I’ll be staying with a family there, so that should be interesting. I’ll also be taking conversational Sinhala, though it’s my impression that nearly everyone there speaks English. Then there will also be classes ranging from subjects such as Buddhism (the majority religion in Sri Lanka), to the environment there, to socio-economic class structures. It should be quite the experience and hopefully I’ll get enough periodic computer access to make an international post or two on this hallowed blog.


That’s all to report for now. Stayed tuned for tomorrow’s update, in which I share my reactions on the Academy Award winning film “Tsotsi.”

Neglect? Oh, right, neglect. Well, this is what happens when I’m either actually busy or have nothing to do. Blogging results from procrastination, which requires “sort of busy.” Also, I have fewer bizarre oblique observations on my emotional state. Which is probably good for me, but bad for the blog. Does that count as one? Anyway…

Spring break week has been eventful and highly recuperative. Have seen everybody who’s around at least once. And now I prepare for Season 2, Episode 3 of our long running series Pat Goes to College. Also, I hear there are fascinating developments in the next episode of Alex Goes to College. Which reminds me that everyone I’ve shown Undeclared to has loved it.

You know what’s a great musical combination? Irish punk. I saw The Tossers at the Metro just before break (St. Patrick’s Day, conveniently). And it was awesome. Also the first concert I’ve been to with attempted moshing. Our resident Mohawk-crested punk rocker Kelsey says that was sub-par, but I got knocked around fairly enthusiastically, so I was impressed. I was also impressed by the ridiculously long set they played, and by the amount of beer people were willing to hurl about. But there’s nothing quite like coming back from a concert at 2 AM, finding that your natural tone of voice is “Irish smoker” (I did a lot of shouting), and running into a friend who leads you to booze. Quite the night.

Opening band assessments:
The Saps: saps. Musically under-skilled (especially the drummer. Lots of monotonous thumping), kind of emo with the worst lyrics I’ve ever heard. There was a song about middle school. Although they did pull it together for two pretty catchy numbers in the middle, at least.

Westbound Train: Reggae/Ska/Soul band. They pull it off rather well. Lots of energy, lots of, er, soul. I don’t know what to say about them, but they were fun.

By far the most productive evening of this week was Sunday, which saw the production of a fabulous short film, which may or may not be called Demons! I leave such decisions up to esteemed director Martin Sweeney. I was just Key Grip. Unfortunately, I’m not sure how I’m going to pull this footage off of my camcorder, thanks to Sony’s quirky insistence on there being one and only one program to do so. Camcorders, much like demons, are MILDLY irritating. But I’ll have to figure out something, as Tim and Dave are great in their roles as Door-to-Door Demon and Confused College Student. Coming Soon to a website near you, hopefully.

And then:
-Someone stole a baby.
-Someone played mini-golf.
-“Unfortunately, your boat absorbs water.”

This blog is suffering from some serious neglect. I can't help but feel partially responsible. Here's a picture:

Soundtrack to Shady Dealer production run #11:

"Sweet Jane", "Rock and Roll" - The Velvet Underground

Thunder, Lightning, Strike! - The Go! Team

Fuck yeah, I feel happy. Also, I'd like to thank Civilization IV for quoting and playing "Rock and Roll" for dramatic purposes. Damn, I need more Velvet Underground...

And, everyone who ever had a heart
They wouldn’t turn around and break it!
And anyone who ever played a part
Oh wouldn’t turn around and hate it!
Sweet jane! whoa-oh-oh! sweet jane! sweet jane!...

Oh, what a weekend: drinking on a Thursday, Tucker Max, Jeff Tweedy, some comedy, and so forth.

So, one fine Thursday afternoon, Damian comes over so I can make program for him that will play online poker, thus saving one the grunt work of playing a conservative yet profitable semi-system. Goals established, Damian says to me “Are you doing anything? ...want to have a party?” Keep in mind it is 3 PM on a Thursday at this point. And we almost did, too, but we ran into some people on the way back from the liquor store… and wound up watching a movie on a makeshift projector screen at their apartment. It worked quite well once we put sheets over all the windows (college student do not have curtains). Coconut rum was enjoyed by all, as was I-Spy, which while an incredibly dumb movie, still bounced Owen Wilson and Eddie Murphy doing their respective things fairly amusingly. And in the end, I got a free meal on account of Damian randomly sort of knowing somebody else on the way back. Situations like this are why I refer to Damian as a “force of nature.” Crazy things happen around him.

And after that, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were dead. And still are, for all I know. It was a great production, although I’m the sort of person who can’t witness an extended meditation on mortality without getting at least a little depressed, funny though it was.

And then on Friday, the Shady Dealer achieved the greatest publicity coup in our history, by bringing New York Times Best-Selling author Tucker Max for a book signing. The event went well, as did the protest we held before it. Yes, we protested out own event. “More like Tucker MIN!” and “Douches are people too!” were some of our better protest signs. Nevertheless, a good portion of the crowd seemed to think that “Tucker Max is unpleasant toward those he disagrees with!” and “We respectfully object to Tucker Max’s lifestyle, although he is free to lead his life as he sees fit!” were chanted in earnest... I weep for America’s youth, I really do. Anyway, Tucker did some Q&A:
DUDE: “You’re my hero!”
TUCKER: “Dude, you’re fucked”
And other such gems. He was really quite entertaining. And then there was the book signing, which included signing all of our protest signs, and at least one breast (which was unaffiliated with the Dealer). Sadly, the after-party was at a respectable establishment, so we could not attend, but there was a staff dinner and further fun that evening. Also, the dealer has been linked on his site, and our web traffic has, to put it mildly, skyrocketed.

And then there was Saturday, which was also awesome, because Jeff Tweedy (of Wilco fame) did a show on campus. It was awesome: long show, good mix of material, and fantastic sound quality. Also, his opening act was a crazy guy with about 50 distortion pedals and tape loops. While not exactly catchy, Nils [last name forgotten] overcame his extreme prog-rock-ness and did what he set out to do, which amounted to making a soundtrack for a bizarre and creepy future with a lot of aliens and robots. Fun stuff, kinda. But mainly Jeff Tweedy was incredible, and a pretty entertaining stage presence to boot (“I can’t actually see you guys, I just hear your voices coming out of this balck abyss… not that you’re, you know, abysmal or anything”). And we tried very hard, and somewhat successfully, to play hipster bingo, despite forgetting the sheets. People wear a lot of plaid these days, I’ve noticed…

Anyway, I need to go eat hardtack, because there is an Oregon Trail-themed study break about to happen. Oh, college…

So the Shady Dealer, in its infinite wisdom, is bringing Tucker Max to campus today, for a book signing. I'm just saying, if you don't hear from me again, assume something went terribly wrong...

Given that my record with Valentine’s Days is pretty marginal, I can’t exactly be bitter about one going by uneventfully. I mean, last Valentine’s Day… hoo boy. Heck, I even spent part of the evening dancing, though this is because I am taking swing dancing lessons. Though even then, the class seemed alarmingly small, so I guess a lot of people had other things to do. In any case, I am at least finally learning to swing dance this quarter, for two reasons: (a) it’s a lot of fun once you know what you’re doing, and (b) I have an unexplained tendency to fall for dancers, so I may as well be prepared.

In any case, the preceding weekend was jam-packed with entertainment. Friday I witnessed the most depressing musical performance I have ever seen. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone was in fact mostly just painful. The “Casiotone” part is quite literal. It is in fact, one man, of questionable vocal ability, playing a cheap and heavily-processed keyboard – slowly – and adding rather strident and unpleasant sound effects from time to time. Additionally, the acoustics of the Ida Noyes 3rd-floor theatre are a disaster, and vocals invariably die there. So I couldn’t really here the lyrics, although I did catch the phrase “cold, white Christmas in St. Paul.” All in all, he sounded kind of like Craig Finn, without the lyrical brilliance, backed up by the opposite of the Hold Steady. And I really love Craig Finn in the context of the Hold Steady. But this guy, much less.

But the concert was free, and we went ironically, hipster-style. I wore my shiny shirt, and I was very depressed that I had forgotten to take along Hipster Bingo. Some people attempted to dance… it was more of a swaying, I guess. Not a lot more you could do with it. We left after the fifth song, when all hope had been lost and the audience had begun to talk amongst themselves to degree audible over the music.

Additionally, talk of hipsteriness led to the discovery that I know someone who’s been to the Ashbury… but swore off going there once it stopped being ironic. So… yeah…

And I almost forgot that I lost a lot of blood on Friday. And then I got it back. I gave platelets, which involves having a great deal of one’s blood filtered through a large machine full of centrifuges and pumps. And it comes back in colder, which is an incredibly creepy feeling. But I got free snacks, I got to watch a movie, and I gained a little karma, so it’s all good.

And... Saturday was a fencing dinner, fraught with delicious Chinatown cuisine. And afterwards, I continued my crusade to bring Undeclared to the unwashed masses. Which had even more irony this time around. Suffice to say, I know someone who can draw clear parallels between Eric and her ex-boyfriend. But this makes sense, because my first-year was basically Undeclared without the sex, the British guy, and Ted Nugent.

This is my obscure literary all-purpose Valentine's Day message:

Tinuviel! Tinuviel!

There. Actual content sooner or later.

Soundtrack for Shady Dealer layout marathon #10:
Herman's Hermits, The Original Hits

Thank you, BitTorrent.

So this is pretty much the main reason why I'd rather not study abroad in Germany. I think it's a pretty valid one.

Moskau

You might as well watch the whole thing. I was about to stop it, but realized there wasn't really a reason to.

Bloody hell, it's been three weeks, hasn't it? And what a wacky three weeks it's been. Orson Welles, Javier + the Bear, the Sahdy Dealer, a wedding, a divorce, all kinds of characters. Must admit some of my plans for the year have already derailed, but we'll see what happens. Must pop off to dinner and Too Much Light. Also Chris has made a sculpture out of mangled dining hall silverware. He calls it "anger," as it was brought on by a bad fish dinner. We have a new suite-mate too, as our Mormon went on a 2-year misson trip. Seriously. Anyway. More on that later.

So here I am after a fabulous and strange New Year’s getting ready to go back to school. Well, not so much getting ready as psyching myself up. What, me pack? Really, at the very least, this quarter has to make more sense than the last one (didn’t I say that last quarter? ah, well.), and hopefull I can pick up the grades a little. Anyway, so the simultaneous start of a new year and a new quarter have got me all sentimental, but first New Year’s Eve.

I spent the Eve (this is what the hip kids call it, starting now) down in Champaign-Urbana, ostensibly to see a band, more accurately to party. and party we did, although I think I had more fun at the pre-game than the party. It had guns. actually, ther were a lot of guns throughout, one of which was mine. I ended up firing that one into the kitchen of a diner and losing the dart. Fortunately no one noticed, and we hope it didn’t land in the fryer. However, I did hit Marty Sweeney in a Steak ’n’ Shake, and he was very surprised.

Anyway, I did this with the honorable Maciej, Kohout, aforementioned target Sweeney, Altier, Afro-Joe, and their respective female associates. I only say that to point out how surprisingly less single this group has become. Or as I said to Joe:

“Joe, do you remember when this group had no couples in it?”
And Joe: “I hear you. Alright, you and me, let’s make out, now!”

I’ll leave the rest to your imagination… which you had better not be using, or I’ll be scared.

Where was I? Right, pre-gaming was most entertaining. Thanks to some vodka, some plastic champagne flutes, and some pink lemonade mix. “Why are you doing that?” “Because it’s vodka!” Also, handguns, of the entirely fake and the airsoft variety. Steve Vai will think twice before he poses with Yngwie Malmsteen again. Madness. And then we walked to a party, where the re were people and music, and apparently my walking switches to a well-controlled stumble when drunk. Also, I met somebody from the U of C, who was apparently the host. It was at this time that Maciej became a bit too drunk, and Joe was emphatic that he was not drunk enough. Fortunately, Maciej had a shining moment of clarity which saved Marty’s New Year’s, despite later mistaking him for Altier and asking where his house was (“North, Maciej, really far north, and a little east”).

Wow, I type a lot, and I can’t form a coherent narrative to save my life. In the end, most of us “crashed” at Nic White’s “pad” and had a “blast”, and returned this afternoon jubilant with hope for the coming twelvemonth.

I can, however, cram a very large number of inside jokes into a post. Somebody handle the ones I missed, okay?

And this is to say nothing of Saturday, which featured both a birthday extravaganza for Maciej and a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit with Kate, Alex, and Peter, who I did not see nearly enough of this break. Not that I’m done seeing people yet, as everybody but Kate (who is off on a well-earned trip to Germany) is in town a couple more weeks, and the U of C will be partying at some point. And y’all know I can’t miss a Javier and the Bear show.

Terse. I can be terse. Once in flight school I was laconic… anyway…

Happy New Year! Maybe resolutions/retrospection soon.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?
And auld lang syne, my dear
And auld lang syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?
…
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne!

You know, I started typing this thing Christmas Eve, and then I got distracted… and lazy… and then distracted. Did I mention I’m easily distracted? But I make up for it with the occasional stroke of absolute focus. I just can’t get to the middle of the bellcurve without rolling down the other side. Anyway, Christmas-flavored post, you’ll get my New Year’s resolutions by February (don’t make me threaten again with the stagecoach), I promise:

By popular demand, I ought to get back to doing this blogging thing. And, as it happens, Merry Christmas, everybody (see?). Consider it a gift – not that this is really a good gift… so, consider it socks. Actually, I got some nice wool socks for Christmas, very toasty.

And allow me now to summarize the Xmas loot, for your entertainment:
-Socks, aforementioned
-Shirts
-Undeclared on DVD: influenced perhaps by the fact that I saw all of it the week preceding Xmas, and that it is genius, and I have to show it to everybody at school, because seriously, this show is college, but funnier.
-Serenity DVD, because well, it’s necessary. My brother got one too, to prevent a power struggle when I go back to school.
- $100 headphones. My mom works for an audio equipment company, what can I say? They haven’t arrived yet, but should be snazzy. Actually, anybody want headphones at an incredibly low price? (I’m half-kidding here; My mom doesn’t know what the limit for employee discount purchases is…)
-Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1. A group with Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, and George Harrison? Sold! Jeff Lynne and Roy Orbison don’t hurt the package either. A fun, not too serious album from some fantastic musicians.
-Rome: Total War: Barbarian Invasion, which seems like a pretty solid expansion to an addictive game.
-Civilization IV, which I haven’t played yet, but is nonetheless a game with fantastic pedigree.

Allow me also to express my most heartfelt exultation for the Bears. Woot! Go Rex! Go Bears!

Also, while I am expressing praise for all and sundry, I heart the Marx Brothers. Saw Duck Soup and Night at the Opera with folk Wednesday at the Music Box. Hilarious, wacky stuff. Night at the Opera has some slow bits, serious musical numbers, but Duck Soup is just non-stop zaniness. Mirror gags, random thigh-placement, musical number about war, jars, mustaches a-go-go – it has everything. Though I’ll admit that covers a lot of ground. “Say, you cover a lot of ground yourself!”

That’s one of Groucho’s many comeback one-liners, for the uninitiated.

I also saw King Kong (whee! six hours in the theater in one day!) that day with Casey and our grandmother. I’ll say this: you really feel for the big ape. Solid acting all around, and it’s interesting to see Jack Black in a (semi-) serious role. And if there are two things Peter Jackson knows, it’s creepy-crawlies and spectacular action sequences, and this movie has both in spades. Fastest three-hour movie I’ve ever seen.

So, it’s been a good break, save for that troubling total lack of productivity. I continue to make sporadic attempts to learn guitar, and simultaneously get a more thorough understanding of music. Got to make this “songwriter” business a little more legit, you know. Speaking of which: duck out now if you ain’t interested in the songs and poetry end.

There is a bit more of that, now. I had a fairly productive period around Thanksgiving, including a drinking song I wrote on the ‘L’. I don’t know why, but the CTA does wonders for my creativity. So, anyway, these are relatively new, though they've been up for a while now, less a few edits:

Hymn to St. Elmo the Sailor (drinking song, hopefully amusing even if you despise my other stuff)
Catch Me!
Keep on Dreaming

And there's some other stuff that may get up in the next week or so. Assumably, I will be back to procrastination-by-blogging once school starts again.

Sweet blinding monkey soup-faced critters from the deep! It's been a long time since my last update, and despite my prodding, Pat refuses to throw us all a bone/update. So I killed him.

....wait...maybe I shouldn't say that on the internet...this is how misunderstandings start, people. Therefore, I didn't kill him, but I have not heard from him since 2pm this afternoon, so I can't be held accountable for his whereabouts/well-being at the present time. Plus he's had the same away message up advertising for an event I know ended HOURS ago. Anyway...let this be a lesson to you, Pat: Update more often or federal investigators might stumble upon the blog and take me into custody for crimes I did not commit. Bollocks.

So...now I'm trying to remember why I wanted to update this thing....ah yes...Marty Sweeney....he's wrong. I thought I'd point that out. Actually, you can head on over to Toner-Blog (speaking of never updating) because he bothered to post something. Unfortunately, I don't agree with his evaluation of Syriana, and I was going to leave a comment explaining myself, but I thought this would be a good excuse to take the old blog out for a spin. Nothing like arguing over the internet I always say. Unless it's arguing in person, or over the phone, because those are way more intense. Honestly though, this post should not be construed as an argument. If there's anything people should be allowed to have their own opinions of, it's music and movies. So Mr. Sweeney isn't actually wrong, I just have a differing opinion of Syriana, so I thought I'd let you all in on it. Let's begin shall we?

Last week my long-deceased co-host/blogger/hort and I went to a sketchy cineplex on the North Side and watched a late showing of Syriana. Peter "I like to pretend I don't have enough money for a ticket" Tutanes was also with us, along with the two other people in the theater. So we watched the movie.

Personally, I thought the film was very well done, and I'm going to tell you why, but I'm not going to bother beating around the plot. Therefore, I see fit to attached a SPOILER WARNING to this post.

Now, I will not disagree with Mr. Sweeney on the point that Traffic is a very very good movie, and that there are certain parallels between the two movies. Still, I think that drawing parallels between these two films feels a bit forced. Rather, if any parallels should be drawn, it should be between Syriana and Munich, since they were released within weeks of each other and both strive to "blur the line" so to speak. Syriana, however, does a much better job with this than Munich, simply because it doesn't really sympathize with any party. As Americans, the issues of U.S. occupation of foreign countries and terrorism stop being so black and white. Our perspectives are turned all the way around and we find ourselves sympathizing with the most unlikely persons.

Syriana accomplishes this feat by just laying it all out for you in a plot which, at times, can be harder to sort through than Darryl Strawberry's legal file. Some point this out as one of the failings of the film, but I see it as one of the main strengths. Frankly, the big business of oil is just as complicated and lethal as the movie would make it out to be. We don't need to fight the plot to try and figure out who's behind what and who just bought who and whether or not that is legal. Instead, we should let ourselves become immersed in the plot, completely enveloped in it, so that we can connect with the main characters, who are just as lost as we are, and whose lives are all thrown around in different ways by the oil business. The American business man in Europe, the unemployed oil field workers in the Middle East, the young, black lawyer looking to cut out a place for himself, and the bearded CIA agent looking for answers--all these characters are searching, however vainly, for a bit of stability in their lives, which they actually have no control over. The film shows us how the oil business so heavy-handedly steers their fates.

Mr. Sweeney mentioned that he felt the film had no point in the end. Here, I will agree with him, but we must take it a step further and realize that the point of the film is that it has no point. This is a bit of an exaggeration, of course. The film as a whole has a point--to immerse us in the crazy mixed-up situation I only began to touch upon above. But this feeling of pointlessness is very important, and it stems from the fact that nothing changes at the end of it all--a point which is illustrated brilliantly in the very final seconds of the film, in which the lawyer takes his father into his house. He's accepted that his father will never change, just as the larger scheme of the film has shown us that the system of power in the Middle East will not change (at least as long as Americans still want oil). This may leave the audience depressed and hopeless, and if this is the case, then the movie has done its job. It's connected with us and made us feel small, which will hopefully make us feel angry, which will lead to our ultimate realization of the problem the movie presents and the lesson it has taught us.

In the end it's all quite mixed up, so I'll turn once more to the indomitable Roger Ebert who always puts things so eloquently in his reviews. He sums up his commentary on Syriana by saying:
"I think "Syriana" is a great film. I am unable to make my reasons clear without resorting to meaningless generalizations. Individual scenes have fierce focus and power, but the film's overall drift stands apart from them. It seems to imply that these sorts of scenes occur, and always have and always will. The movie explains the politics of oil by telling us to stop seeking an explanation. Just look at the behavior. In the short run, you can see who wants oil and how they're trying to get it. In the long run, we're out of oil."

Agree or disagree, my friends, but that's just good writing.

So here we are at the end of a rambling blog post, the length of which was almost entirely unintentional. Hey, and it even included a reference to "The 'Straw." Now that's entertainment.





I hope everyone had a good Festivus; I know I did.