There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Sometimes Numbers Don't Add Up

There is a problem I experience from time to time that I know I am not alone in. It's where I have a number in my phone's contact list and have no idea who in the Hell that person is. This is a relatively minor problem, of course, as it suggests a true connection is lacking and thus, the necessity of having this phone number is not that great. But it can get worse when I have assumed it to be a person of the same name that I see with passing regularity. As it happens, at times I then text this mystery number that I expect not to be mystery at all, only to find that there is mystery indeed. Because it has been some time since the exchange of numbers I identify myself in text, only to find that the recipient is incorrect. Yet surely they are still someone I have met and should they not remember me? Guess I didn't manage to make myself too memorable either.

But the crux of the problem is that when you move about, you meet so many damned people, and after a while, names can get tough. I remember faces very well, but struggle with names, where once I was so good. I can even remember life details, which I think is more important in a lot of ways, and yet it would be nice to get names. Many others suffer from this affliction though, and so we are afforded the opportunity at many reintroductions.

Moving on then, I turned to this blog as a break from some other writing and when I did so I noted that I was on word 1111 of 1111. I greatly enjoy coincidences such as these. That's really all there is to say about that.

Further pertaining to writing, there is a lot of doom and gloom talk about the death of publishing so it was nice to see this piece from Lloyd Shepherd—a Hell of a name by the way—coming out with a much more optimistic outlook. Kudos to my pal Jeff Phillips for sharing it with me.

Shifting to another love of mine, the Track and Field World Champs are upon us. There have been some surprises there is no question, but rather than a long-winded analysis, I bring you my favorite name: Ethiopian turned Bahraini Shitaye Eshete. I am in the habit of saying it phonetically as Shit-eh, Eh-sheet-eh. And I say it with a very bad Italian accent, like one mocking the menu presented by an Italian chef. The accent isn't bad for the purpose of making it funnier, I just happen to be bad at accents.

There is a dude that just rolled into the coffee shop I am inhabiting and I recognize him as a former barista from a coffee shop just down the street from this very one. I guess since he no longer works at the other place, it would be weird to keep showing up there. He looks as if he would fit in very well in The Shire.

Also, it's about to be Fall. That's weird. Gotta wear my white pants as much as possible before Labor day. Insert pregnancy joke. Cool. Later.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Just Say No

I've been watching a good amount of Mad Men lately. A look at my last post notes that I noted having begun watching at last. Good show. Great show. The advertising part of it is such a small facet, but a facet just the same, and I've always been intrigued very much by advertising. There is a flyer that has been on my kitchen counter for days, a direct-mail piece for $5 off at DSW. It shows a pair of nice men's dress shoes on the one side and asks, "What goes great with a birthday suit?" Now, do we have different definitions of the phrase "birthday suit," DSW and I? Is there a new demographic calling for pornography where men wear just discounted high-end dress shoes? Or maybe I took it too far and it is tasteful nudity, with the wobbly bits covered up by discounted high-end dress shoes. There is a better joke waiting to be written, and perhaps a better chance this premise should be cast aside altogether. That's your joke?

A moment of amusement did seize me last night when I attempted to attend a popular open mic. The scene was packed and in an artsy, hipstery, up-and-coming neighborhood and, yes, those are all distinctive adjectives. And yet, when I arrived in a button-up shirt and vest, people seemed to look askance at me. I wore these clothes for a show, I thought to myself. Also I was surprised to find no other vested individuals just because. The problem is the problem I often have of attributing negativity to any attentions. I mean, I don't always do it, but sometimes you're right, and sometimes your wrong. Just this past Sunday, quite late, also wearing a vest—I gotta stop wearing vests to shows—I took some flack. It was as I walked into the train station and a bloated and inebriated cubs fan yelled out, "I didn't get the memo that it was vest night." But fat drunko, jerseys are sometimes referred to as vests in other parts of the world...

The thing is, I probably don't like seeing people in vests either, but I wouldn't totally mind if people wanted to cut me some slack. Some people say positive things too of course, but it's so much more fun to focus on the negative. At any rate, a lot of people do not like when you wear vests. I think that's the obvious moral of that story, extra obvious because we all knew we hate people wearing vests for the most part.

Oh, and I cut lots of my crew neck t-shirts down the middle of the neck and fold in to create v-necks. I think this gets a pretty mixed reaction too. That's a good tagline for me: mixed reactions of the extreme. Just like how this entry was extremely boring you know? Gosh darn blogs...

Oh right, and I'm turning off my short story blog since like even though some of that stuff isn't great or anything I don't want to like give none of it away for free or nothing. Not until I have to, which will be soon. I would, but like, I want that to be the way I eat and stuff. Good thing I like cheap food.

You know what, that's probably plenty of words for the moment. Just meeting my monthly quota of entries folks. Thanks Chi, for the nice weather lately.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Fragile Internet Ego

It will happen. From time-to-time people will defriend on that social network that is facebook. And I have, at times, been the recipient. I could understand in the wake of some real-life shake-up, or if I were some sort of overactive updater, that kind of thing. Of late I have been tweeting much more than ever, but I keep that separate from facebook, so you wouldn't have to keep up with it, just as you wouldn't have to keep up with this blog if you didn't want. All independent separate sources, united by a common strain of being authored and administered by yours truly. My tweet increase has come at the departure of a couple of friends from facebook and I enjoy communicating with them over Twitter. I still think it's a little weird, but so it goes. I'm bad at change. I feel weird about interactions that aren't in real life.

But that facebook. My friend number will fluctuate periodically, generally the result of the temporary deactivation of an account. But reiterating, I have in fact noted that, at times, it is the result of defriending. The thing is, it generally (everything is happening generally in the post, which I suppose is okay, in general) takes time to realize, and by the time I realize I am left to ponder why it is that it has occurred. I know, rehashing paragraph one. It makes me feel as if some dirty rumor is going around about me and I'm unaware of it. This is so foolish, and yet with the advent of the internet persona, it's also somewhat of a reality. It's why I want to disappear from it at times, and yet there is a remarkable convenience. You take, of course, the good with the bad. I cannot decide if I would prefer a little feedback after the fact—like marketing research—as to why you did not enjoy a specific product. I suppose I lean toward the wanting or this post might not be being typed right? And since those that I have noted have come for no discernible reason. It goes back to my juvenile desire to be liked by all. I've gotten over that all will not like me, but once you have ostensibly granted your basic approval through social network connection, I do wonder as to the changeover.

That's a little much on that. I already addressed my strange fear regarding this whole deal during the day to someone—yes, in real life...But hey, that's sort of what I said might be the hallmark of the old blog here, griping about the very inconsequential matters of the universe. And you know, perhaps it's a glitch in the system, or something akin to my fear that an email I address will end up entirely with the wrong recipient. Entirely? As opposed to in parts? What I meant was end up with the wrong recipient entirely. Or with entirely the wrong recipient. Right.

I thing I do enjoy is the Mr. Little Jeans' track "Angel". Really, it's a good one. And I've finally begun delving into the realm of Mad Men. From the get-go I had an Ad professor raving about it, and critics and other folks raved on after. Finally, I have settled down and I get the appeal. Good work creators.

Each time I blog away these days the entries seem a little too much about me. So let's make the end of this more about funny signs. Like these ones about gay marriage. Or these little edits/responses to existing signs. I actually managed to see an edited bench in my neighborhood, which had been well done to replace "your ad here," with "your ass here." Nice one. And for good measure how about these warnings and product disclaimers? Yeah, I'd say that'll do.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


This weekend past marked the arrival and departure once again of Lollapalooza. Now while that opening sentence makes this seem like a boring chronicle, there's a possibility that will be true. Thanks to a friend (I try to avoid real names in here because like I don't want this being all personal and stuff and it's already creepy how much you can easily find out on the internet) I was able to get into a couple of semi-exclusive events. What I always enjoy is the mixture of true VIPs, folks like me who happen to have a friend that can get them in, and then the event workers. I mean this is the inevitability in lots of things, like eating at a fancy restaurant. Even when you're the finest and most respected wait staff in the world, you're still the wait staff.

The thing that makes these events so great for me is that, by-and-large, a strong positive vibe permeates. Since things like this are a rarity for me, I enjoy them a great deal, although I do try to maintain that "act like you've been here before" demeanor. But amidst free drinks and food and whatever else, why be in a shitty mood? The only day I was able to attend the festival (with some finagling and bs-ing) itself was Friday evening to take in Bright Eyes and Muse. I thoroughly enjoyed Bright Eyes, though I did long for a few more older tracks (I don't know the newest album at all) but a shining moment was viewing a quartet of girls who disliked a duo of girls in front of them. The duo was into it in that stereotyped free and hippie way where I wonder who their parents are because they were probably all of 18 and I don't know, I was pretty mainstream then and I really kind of am now. In viewing them, the quartet made snide remarks to one another about the duo, prompting them to dance more spirited in mockery of the duo, which all led to my joy in viewing from behind.

As for Muse, I perhaps regret a little bit not staying for their whole set, but the problem I have with concerts in general is that I have very specific feelings about how I want to enjoy and react to a live performance, and if everyone isn't on the high energy level I am, I am let down. We're all there to enjoy the same music, right, so why worry? No, but I get it, it's hard to be completely relaxed and just enjoy something without fear of judgment. I probably would have judged you in the past, but for me there's nothing better than when someone just genuinely loves the shit out of something. But the couple behind me and my friends was on the right page and probably made my day the most when the guy held up his phone and asked if I was Sergio the Saxman.

I did sight and briefly interact with a couple of celebrities and even by making that vague reference it may be even worse than to actually name who they were, but hey, you know, so it goes. I did witness Taylor Momsen sing and I was impressed at her ability to belt it out. A joy was catching a hint of Elijah Wood dj-ing an event as it closed down. I was very on board with his song selection, which included "Iko Iko"—Dixie Cups version—as I left. The real strength though was his opening with "Goodbye Horses." As that is a personal favorite tune I was busy hamming it up on the dancefloor before I realized who had picked the selection. So here's to you Elijah Wood, for being a chill dude.

Yeah, I guess that was boring. Cheers all.
Thanks for stopping by…you stay classy Planet Earth.