WEDNESDAY

torn torn torn

since i lost hard at my ebay auction for a promo Ice Cube Predator shirt, i'm soothing the material urge with one of these two beauties. but which one???

i'm narrowing down a cultivated steez to Sagittarius arrow honor and early 90's hip hop honor. the world needs to know, without having to ask, that this is what i'm about!

aaaaaaaaaaand THIS

Traits of a Sagittarius:

* Fun
* Optimist
* Good-natured
* Sociable
* Spiritual
* Impatient
* Fears responsibility
* Self-indulgence
* Fanaticism
* Peter Pan syndrome
* Tendency to gamble

Likes...

* Freedom
* Unusual ideas
* Being on the move
* Parties
* Luxury items
* Gambling
* New friends
* Flirting

Dislikes...

* Public disapproval
* Playing safe
* Confinement
* Monotony
* Tight clothes/areas
* Being doubted
* Being refused

or some approximation of that. emphasis on FREEDOM. i actually like tight ass jeans.

couldn't dent it if you tried

a weekend spent with my best people oscillating lightly between the realms of real talk and carefree fun land somehow brings me to listen to this song, off dad's copy, over and over again.

the warm-up

first Sox game of the season. a 12-0 SPANK delivered by Tampa Bay?? we managed 4 innings in the cold and decided to make our way inside and chilled around the bar. the indoor portion of the 300 level at Sox Park is like a weird airport food court mated with a Radison conference room. and it's warm.

Jeff buried in a chair.
I'm hammered and sitting on the floor.

so many people drunk out of disappointment at this moment.

i think he's about to mosh. we are notorious for moshing the drunk out.

furiously celebrating the view of the city.

post game sac of fries for me, sac of future vomit for JJ.

Jeff lives within walking distance/a perfect bar crawl of the stadium. do you know how great it is to walk into a bar with Stevie Wonder and the best classic soul blasting, everyone in Sox gear and the assurance that your shots will get cheaper as long as you keep singing along?

the nurse says she's crowning,

give it a push Ma Nature!!!

Don't think about it
Well all you've got to do is, do it
Well don't talk about it
All you do is do it, do it
Don't lie about it
Do it, do it
Write about it honey
Then we'll just do it
Yeah,do do do do do do do do do do do it
Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
You all just do it
Don't sing about it
If you ain't gonna, do it
Don't write about it man
If you ain't gonna, do it
Rock and roll
And the message is, do it
You're gonna rip me off man
You blew it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it
Do it yeah

channeling Cindy Sherman

The Pink Hotel

before i left for the motherland last weekend, i came across two glistening reviews of a film that was having a one time run on the night i set out for home. i considered staying the night and leaving at dawn the next day but that never works out as nicely as it does in my mind. it's called The Pink Hotel, an homage to the beacon of Edgewater; a monument to decadence, to Chicago architecture and to absurd choices of paint. here's the trailer and another related snippet:

this is pulled from the Newcity write up where i first learned of the movie. i've made bold the points where drool plopped down from my mouth to the paper....

The storytelling itself, however, holds sinister desire. There’s a touch of micro-budget von Sternberg (minus Dietrich) meets Guy Maddin with bits of David Lynch-like weirdness. “Fair enough! I’m certainly a Lynch enthusiast. Guy is actually a friend, and we’ll be working together on his new film in Winnipeg next month. He and I have been correspondents and friends for several years, so we do a lot of looking at one another’s work. Of course I’m utterly smitten with what he does. I also watch a lot of early sound and silent pictures, the directness of process and the sheer enthusiasm about the newness of cinema is really something special. I’m also very fond of the Quay Brothers, Joseph Cornell’s films, the early Dada and Surrealist experiments in pictures, Roy Andersson’s lovely work and harbor an almost unconditional love for any horror movie at all. The older the better, I suppose, but I’m not that picky.”

i'm probably leaving this neighborhood in a few months but i'm thankful that this stood as my visual reminder that i was almost home.

http://www.theoperatedeye.com/ (official website, Tony Fitzpatrick endorsed. does the drool worthiness ever stop?)

"opps" baby

in the first 30 years that my parents were married they owned approximately 25 cars. they've been together for 40+ now. needless to say, my Dad is a freak about nice wheels. they've owned two maybe three late 60's/early 70's VW bugs, two Corvette Stingrays, a '57 Chevy pickup with a cracked to hell dash that my dad would take me to the store in from age 5 and under (so many memories of him taking that thing apart and painting, like, the axles), and an olive green Charger that makes me weep with wanting. most of their cars for the last 10 years have been highly functional investments, not like the VW bugs which they mostly had so they could take off the hoods, flip them over and sled down massive hills in the debilitating (for some!!) snow that used to plague the Midwest. dad is old. dad has worked/slaved his ass off for 27 years in the coal industry (LETS SEE YOU TRY TO REPLACE HUNDREDS OF POUNDS AND YARDS OF BELT THAT HAULS COAL FROM BOAT TO LAND IN NEGATIVE 30 DEGREE WEATHER) and ended up doing construction and labor jobs for the last 15. he retired on January 1st of this year, commemorated with some scribble on a piece of cardboard that my mom tells me she photo documented. he cried from sun up to sun down on that day...i heard it. leading up to that day, dad brought home a new baby. a Corvette Stingray that he's meticulously getting up to it's original condition. Ebay is now my pop's best friend.

someday i'll post up photos of their cars. and dogs. always a car and a dog and my mom in awesome boots with great hair. someday i'll post the pictures they took of Hendrix too, before i came along and ruined all the good times.

living alone again and having minimal reliance on others has created a situation where i feel like i'm at the reigns of the cart driving my happiness. not only do i "feel" it, i won't tolerate it any other way. i haven't let anyone step into that driver's role in a long time and i've closed myself off in a way to where i can't just let good things happen to me; the anxiety over the loss of control and potential vulnerability eclipses those instances. and in vanity's corner, there's the overwhelming need to see how i please people, never stopping to let anyone bring goofy smiles to my face or catch me off guard. that could be embarrassing!! i've also done a bang-up job making a twisted entanglement of all of this. last weekend i felt the knotted up world start to loosen and eventually the stings of thought laid themselves out so simply, so softly, brushing up to one another, acknowledging each other, light enough to get a push from the wind; like a dense but friendly forest in a communal sway. the rush, the happiness is there for me to take it. it's simple. last weekend it went like this:

1. Joe, the most solid monkey-human i know.
2. a booth at the Buttery and some diner pancakes.
3. Bryds on the jukebox.

Pissed Jeans

<

odd obsession

They were right under my nose and i didn't even know it!!

IOOF lodge in Waterloo, IL.

I-55 playlist

home from home

not nearly enough cat naps under the sun on the back porch...




not nearly enough cat naps on the grass under the trees in the front yard...

photographic tribute to one Neal of Poland

No Class @ Lemmon's in STL.

Most constructive post-break-up "performance art" i've ever seen. More folks should go this route when they're trying to come to terms with the fallout of bogus relationships. much more entertaining on my end and i'd guess much more therapeutic and inexpensive than visits to a shrink.