04-02-07 to 6-28-07
you are visitor #since 05/28/01
What an offensive and idiotic onslaught by the media towards the professional wrestling world in general thanks to Chris Benoit.
I sure as hell don't agree with a lot of Vince McMahon's decisions, but to see his company raked over the coals by the assemblage of imbeciles, losers and vindictive outcasts presented by the media today is fucking OFFENSIVE.
Professional wrestling over my lifetime has given me an immeasurable load of pleasure. My hero's have always been wrestlers..since I was a little nerd growing up in a subdivision in Snoreland Boregon. Yeah, I'm into baseball, chess, movies, music, etc...but it was convincing heel wrestlers who gave me the backbone to stand up to my fan favorite loving tyrant of an old man.
I made peace with him before he passed on..and I can guarandamntee you if he was here today he'd be pissed off too. They want to try to portray wrestlers as crooked, wifebeating, roid rage morons. My Father was a man of intellect..a professor at a university with a Masters degree and a good dose of balanced and hospitable Southern upbringing. He spoke highly of members of the members of the wrestling Brotherhood who attended his classes ( he taught Real Estate principles and appraisel..popular among aging wrestlers..along with a couple other courses ). Two I remember off the top of my head are Cauliflower alley veterans Tony Borne and Rocky Montero.
My old man would be SHOCKED to see Steve Austin's Wife..obviously as vindictive a source as you could possibly find..ripping into him on the "fair and balanced" Fox network. Later on the Greta Van Sustern tabloid-arama None other than Joanie Laurer ( too "out of it" even for the Stern show ) and Bret "the axe-grinder" Hart whining in unison as a mixed tagteam.
It seemed like exactly the sort of imbalanced collection of nuts and fruits that critics would lambaste Vince for programming in the first place..suddenly they're authoratative sources, huh?
The media has shown they don't have a clue about the wrestling biz and can't put the murderous act of one wrestler into perspective. Vince sagely brought up the fact that many postal workers have had their spree killing days. Would they assert that all or most of postal workers are therefore suspect? Of course not. Why tar the wrestling industry with the brush they use to chastize Benoit?
Wrestling fans, it's time to STAND UP for the boys. They've provided us with lifetimes of entertainment..yeah, not always top notch..but at least as respectable as what these journalists trowel out.
The Chris Benoit tragedy will be discussed for years. I think we've only seen the tip of the iceberg.
The fact that so many people AROUND HIM thought Benoit was totally incapable of doing the violent things he did is eye opening. You and I are only fans..not insiders. I don't feel bad about having blindly offered up a shot of Canadian whiskey in his honor. Don't feel silly if you initially cried for Benoit and his family and are pissed now.
Did he snap? Or was he a bad seed all along? It'll take a book length effort to get to the bottom of that I'm afraid.
I'm speculating that a few observant people who worked with Benoit saw him in a different light, were wary of him..and that we'll be hearing about their suspicions in the coming weeks and months.
I'd be surprised if NOBODY in the WWE had a different read on his strict parenting, demands of "RESPECT" from his peers, etc.
My old man died long before the advent of steroids, but was absolutely OBSESSED with his need for "respect". I never misbehaved much, I was an egghead. Still, Dad beat on me and screamed until his veins and eyes bulged out in his quest for "RESPECT!" This went on until I eventually had to follow him out to the garage for a Father-Son punch out when I was 14.
If we were sitting at our family dinner table and I made the mistake of asking somebody to pass the ketchup in a casual tone of voice..he'd FLIP! He saw it as a direct act of disrespect from me to him. It usually escalated into a beating or horrible argument. On a few occasions when my Mother came to my defense ( not very often ) what was originally a simple etiquette breach resulted in the two of them fighting for hours. Yelling, destroying stuff, etc accompanied these bouts.
The fact is, nobody that worked with my old man would've BELIEVED how serious his beatings and rampages were.
You might suggest he did it while drunk...eh?
WRONG! He never drank. I think that was part of his problem.
All my Cousins loved him..he was their Uncle Bob. He was jolly, intelligent, kind, hard working, etc.
I'm writing about him here to illustrate my point..that you JUST DON'T KNOW when some respected guy or yes..even gal..is bullying their family.
You DON'T KNOW. How many times has the kinfolk of a convicted killer wrung their hands in front of the media crying "we KNOW he wasn't capable of taking a life!"
How many of us have a favorite Uncle who has sexually molested our Cousins?
We really don't know.
How many of us sit next to some fella at work..nicest guy in the office, right? You'd trust him with your wallet or purse or car keys, RIGHT? You've confided in him on occasion even. So have others in the office. How would you know if the office nice guy takes his belt to his Wife and kids regularly? YOU WOULDN'T.
And apparently quite a few of the WWE crew had no idea what Benoit was capable of.
I'm not saying that you or the WWE staff or anybody is DUMB for not perceiving what guys like Benoit are capable of. On the contrary, I'm saying you're DUMB if you THINK you can see what's behind peoples masks without error.
I'm not saying you shouldn't let your guard down around anybody..just DON'T UNPLUG YOUR BRAIN. Go back and reread all the columns and entries here I've written about pathological liars.
What do you wanna bet that eventually folks from Benoit's circle will come forth and reveal suspicions they had..that they wish they had maybe acted upon instead of shrugging off?
THE MIRACLE OF THE BOTTLES...
I went to the bar to get a jug to pour a shot for Chris Benoit. Sadly, the half gallon bottle of Jim Beam I've worked on gradually was empty.
Oh shit; no Canadian beer in the house..what was I to do? I cussed.
I looked up and my gaze fell upon the answer..the RIGHT move..a fifth of Canadian Lord Calvert.
It was perfectly appropriate..actually much more so than the Beam.
I watched parts of the 3 hour tribute. I was sad. Then, the news started eeking out that what we have here is a murder-suicide with Chris the likely murderer.
Oops. I don't want to prejudge, but if that's the case, the WWE just made a 3 hour trib to a killer. I'm not sure how this will play out...
I was shocked to learn that Benoit's wife was "Woman" whom I had my picture taken with once. I had no idea. I was a fan of hers since her days with Kevin Sullivan's horde of devil worshippers.
Fox news just reported the story...I'm sure we'll know a lot more about what happened in a few hours, so I'm gonna back out of this for now.
I don't want to let the death of a great man who worked in the wrestling biz for several decades go unmentioned. When I was en route to Vegas ( or actually maybe when I was getting ready to go ) the great Sandy Barr died. He was 69..and had evidently wrestled in a 3 man tag team match a couple weeks before his death.
I can't say that I ever saw a match of his when he was in his prime..which would've been in the 50's or early 60's. I did see many of his matches in the late 60's once my family had located to our cookieland burb in Beaverton Boregon.
He soon after began serving as a great referee for the Portland wrestling TV show. Behind the scenes he evidently was a booker and businessman. That's all well and good, but I'll remember him for his work as a ref who suffered from limited vision at times ( my old man would curse him with spit flying when a heel cheated and he didn't catch it!) but had energy and attitude to spare.
Yes, he was Art Barr's Daddy...and Jimmy Jack Funk's too. I think there are a couple Son's who wrestled who I'm not familiar with. Oh well, those 2 made their marks for damn sure.
Sandy Barr impacted my life in a big way away from the squared circle though. One of the main hobbies of my life has been that of combing thrift stores and flea markets for records. Sandy Barr hosted his own flea market at the wrestling venue ( which he had a lease on evidently )..the Portland Sports Arena..on Sunday mornings.
To be honest, most flea markets percentage wise suck. Sandy Barr's had a few bad weeks, but I've got to say if challenged I could run around the room and yank out a pile of merchandise from my record racks and shelves I found there.
I found at least 3 Beauregarde lp's there over the years..one SEALED.
Greg Sage used to sell tools and the like at the flea market. By the front door their was a painted mural of Andre the Giant. Flea markets customers could gaze at it and get the feel of the room and maybe make plans to attend a wrestling card. Likewise, wrestling fans came in droves to the flea market. Sandy Barr was a genius of sorts for realizing how the 2 worked together.
My pal Jim Goad has written about the charms of the St. John's neighborhood in Snoreland ( "the Redneck Manifesto" ) did you know one of Sandy's nicknames was "the King of St. Johns"? Mike McNally reminded me of that.
From what I read, the flea market survived to his death..and hell, maybe they'll keep it going.
I only had one personal encounter with ol Sandy. I was smoking weed and listening to ( I think ) a Hank Sr. cassette cranked loud and drinking beers in the parking lot of the arena with a former friend. All of a sudden, of shit..a 2 door Monte Carlo style car pulled up alongside us. The driver rolled down his window..and I rolled down mine. By god..IT WAS Sandy fucking Barr! He was irked at us..and told us to get the fuck off his parking lot NOW.
We didn't argue. I squeeked out "yes sir" and we moved on down the line..somewhere way the hell away from St. Johns. My friend sported some sort of brown belt but SHIT..we weren't gonna back talk to Sandy Barr. I miss him already.
My main man Playboy Buddy Rose has a nice tribute to him up at his website.
Go see what the Playboy has to say about "dandy Sandy".
A few words on civic pride.
Here in San Marcos and in most parts of Texas the can and bottle recyling system has been reduced to 2nd nature. We're given a huge trash bin picked up twice a week and a large rectangular bin for cans and bottles they pick up on Mondays.
I figure it's my duty to fill the can and bottle bin with empties every week. When I fall short of the goal ( not very often ) I feel funny..as if I've let my fellow citizens down.
I drink every night; henceforth, it's easy most of the time to tell what day of the week it is ( a shortcoming of mine ) by the level the empties take in the bin.
When I arrived home from Vegas on a Tuesday night I knew I had my work cut out for me having missed a precious night. I drank with gusto to make up for it and the next Monday morning the bin was at the curb full.
You can tell when we've had a band practice here too; the goddamned thing overflows. With Mike McNally coming to town for the upcoming wedding we'll probably have to either call for a special pickup ( is that possible?) or shape the empties in the bin at the curb into a pyramid.
I'm sure as hell glad I don't have to haul greazy bottles and cans to the store for some petty refund like we had to do in Boregon. Eeww....
Across the street at the frat "mild" party house there's been a changing of the guard. A couple of the guys who moved out ( I think ) were replaced by a crew including one female with so many cars and friends coming around day and night it's gotten to be annoying. The female has captured my attention by strolling around partially dressed walking a pair of dogs. Rather than being an erotic turn on, she seems like an incredibly spoiled little cunt. I think she got Daddy to buy her TWO cars..an SUV and a smaller black sporty rig. She's obviously a Paris/Britney wannabe bottle blonde. I'm not impressed. She hasn't really caused any trouble out right, but her huge number of friends come and go 24 hours per day. The old male crew used to rarely stir between the hours of 9:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. or so.
During a school semester this house could be really damned annoying. I can't even walk out in front of the house at 5:00 a.m. for a quiet moment.
I cooked up an incredible batch of curry chicken..my best ever probably.
There was no sodium involved in the preperation of it, but it was flavorful and hot according to Marla. I used two heads of garlic, sweet onions, a beautiful shallot, of course lots of olive oil..a couple pounds of chicken, 2 cups of low sodium chicken broth, a can of "light" coconut milk, lots of curry powder, low sodium hippie peanut butter, basil from our backyard, a bell pepper, baby carrots and some jumbo shrimp tossed in along with some frozen peas for about 3 minutes. I used lots of seasonings..balsamic vinegar, pepper, crushed red peppers and Asian chili sauce for heat, garlic powder, etc. etc. etc.
For the hellavit I poured in about a fifth of a can of Bud. It was served over the remnants of our latest 20 pound bag of jasmine rice. We eat a lot of goddamned rice around here.
It was really low sodium, but FUCK..full of flavor and if it made Marla remark on the heat level it was ample.
We're 3 weeks away or so from the wedding. I am nervous, fuck yeah. I don't have much of a role in the thing, but I'm wearing a mandatory rented tux. Marla will be wearing..something; will it be her first dress in 15 years? Oopps...I'm probably not supposed to mention that factoid..don't tell her, OK?
We have to stake the wedding party to a post rehearsal feed, and contributed mightily towards the Vegas honeymoon. No sweat. Elvis's future inlaws are shelling out the heavy cash and have been planning shit for 6 months. I'm glad for once I don't have a Daughter.
It's embarrassing, but 95% of the guests ( conservatively ) are from the fiance's side. They've got relatives coming from places like Wisconsin. The family has been in San Antonio for many years..they're Germans way back.
Hell, they drink bier! That's what matters.
Luckily common sense has prevailed and the ceremony will take about 15 minutes. I know the guys in Elvis entourage..there'll be some bountiful celebrating the night before. I'll be nervous though...why wouldn't I be? I don't want to screw things up. If Marla and Elvis allow me to I'll post some Tux and formal clad pic's after the shebang's over.
I hate a lot of things about Snoreland Boregon..and I'm frequently glad I left there. Occasionally I hear of doings there that remind me why it's such a pretentious haven for breastbeating wannabe oh-so-cool boosters.
Did you know that the Multnomah county fair no longer exists? Of course you didn't, because you don't care. Why should you..it's only Portland.
Seems that Portlanders are too "ironic" or hip or alternative or whatever for a county fair.
A chain of stores built after WWII selling outdoorsy stuff named G.I. Joe's has just changed it's name to.."Joes". Gotta reflect popular anti-military opinion I guess. Oh well...it doesn't really matter does it? It's ONLY PORTLAND.
They're thinking, er..well..they're considering expanding the bottle deposit program in Portland. Here in Texas, we are provided with a plastic dumpster for trash you roll to the curb twice a week and a rectangular bin for bottles and cans you set next to it on Mondays. We live along a major "ranch road" ( oops! Snorelanders would think we're hicks I guess for utilizing the agrarian word "ranch" ) and I rarely see litter.
Of course Portlanders consider themselves to be an uber environmentally aware city and Texan's to be drawl speaking, environmentally wreckless pigs. So, why do they feel the need to expand their program which already "forces" people to pay 5-10 cents or so per bottle at the point of purchase resulting in folks hauling all their residue filled, stinky empties to overburdened Mom and Pop stores ( mega marts are verboten of course ) for a refund?
I used to inventory Portland stores with foul bottle rooms that would make Texas livestock vomit. If they truly are so progressive and enlightened, WHY can't they trust their populace to simply toss bottles and cans in recycle bins? Like most cities they could fine people up the ass for littering and use the proceeds to hire crews of convicts to occasionally clean up litter problem zones?
I can only conclude that 1) they don't trust their citizenry to be all that enlightened afterall or 2) they seek attention with their retarded bottle bill just like they do with their inane law against pumping your own gas.
Oh well, no sense getting too upset..it's ONLY PORTLAND.
Father's day went well. I woke to a cooler full of frosty green bottled beers next to my new, fancy throne. Thanks Marla. My Son the steakhouse chef came by and played PS2 baseball while cooking a roast that was the most unique I've ever had. I always stick 'em in the oven with onions and potatoes and carrots like Grandma's do. Elvis panfried this one with a crust of ground nuts and served it with delicate garlic mashers and a creamy gravy that was very un-Grandma like involving light cheese and some sort of confectionary product.
He started out at age 8 or so cooking in a quaint fashion I guess, occasionally fucking something up. Now, he packs his knives around in a professional case and always carries a thick pad of paper to jot down recipe ideas on.
Hey, you younger Father's, this is why you encourage your kids to do stuff. Eventually they all grow up and you find yourself with a family member who can tune your car up or bake a frigging pie or build or paint or nurse you when you do something stupid and require medical attention.
There's a point in which the scales tip the other direction and you start getting BACK...even if it's just somebody to talk to now and then.
Childish hobbies often turn into adult-professional level skills. Just thought I'd remind you.
Shit, I was grouchy last time. I'm in a bit better mood.
For many years I always used to be in a horrible state of mind coming home from vacations. This doesn't seem to be the case coming back to Texas most of the time. And it won't be happening in the future, since Marla installed a brand new toliet with an extended seat in our master bath! I can really relax on it and don't feel like my bung hole is being scrunched up like on the old one. I seem to squeeze most of my dookie for the whole damned day in one sitting. Hurrah!
It's final flush sound is a cheerful little whistle like from a tea kettle in Grandma's kitchen. She also installed new bathroom flooring which is some sort of imitation wood substance that is smooth and nicely chocolate colored. Don't you guys out there wish you had a Wife who could install a new stool and flooring in a few short hours?
Our 30th anniversary is coming up..and she probably wanted to let me know she hasn't forgotten what a good catch I was: sexy, wise and jolly.
Well, I'm back from Vegas. I've given up on trying to pretend 99% of the people reading this can comprehend my accomplishments in chess locking horns with one master after another in situations like I experienced at the National open. Suffice it to say, if you think that cheap sudoku crap is some sort of brainy challenge, it's no wonder you can't comprehend what it takes to play chess with masters and slug it out back and forth.
Here in San Marcos it's just another day of tubing and grinning and back slapping at the same bars full of morons to whom Harry fucking Potter books are intellectual challenges.
Luckily I'm capable of excelling at the lowbrow arts too, or it'd be one fucking lonely world indeed.
I drank with gusto every night in Vegas and dicked around with video poker enough to get lots of comp drinks. My roomy at the Riviera hotel was a chess combatant I met last year at this event. He drank with even more gusto than me ( Maui rum and the occasional beer ).
It was a bit out of the pattern not having a Wife along, but hell we've both traveled a lot over the years independently. It's good for a relationship. Some people have a big hang-up about not wanting to eat alone in restaurants. NOT ME. I enjoy having time alone such as I did every night and for an extra day before and after the tournament was over.
I know that I was considered by many to be some sort of housebound hermit or crazy not all that long ago. It's sure as bloody hell not the case anymore.
My plane rides were absolute fucking hell. Why? I wasn't traveling with the usual mixture of predictable businessmen and seniors. It was a high proportion of imbeciles out to have fun on some sort of Summer hijinx.Way too many kids. Way too many rubes with a "look at ME! I must be having FUN!" look on their stupid ugly mug.
Fuck you. Go back to your Sudoku. Yeah. Like the earth Momma with the Cindy Sheehan mad eyes on one of my flights., she delayed the flight by 5 minutes because she read her ticket wrong, dug in her heels and insisted she COULDN'T be wrong..and then predictably shrugged it off with peel's of laughter when it became evident...and later buried her nose in a sudoku pocketbook. Sorry baby. You're a lost cause. Your brain is as dead as the grinning dummies who later held up our disembarking the plane with their gleefully oblivious "you first"...NO! YOU first!" routine while blocking an aisle of 200 passengers.
It takes time to readapt myself to being surrounded daily, constantly by boobs and rubes after a few days with intelligent folks. Pardon my negative attitude..on second thought, cram it up your ass. Or don't. Who cares.
You see the mood these clods who don't know chalk from cheese from hammered dogshit have put me in? If you do understand..even a little bit..there may be hope for you. I'm not guaranteeing that though.
The irony is I usually prefer to be around normal everyday people as opposed to pretentious smart types. UURRPP.....as Rodney Dangerfield once said: "it's not easy being me".
I'm leaving at noon for Vrgas. I decided while chatting with Elvis and his fiance to take along some of my ear plugs for airplane use. Fuck if I want to be stuck listening to howling babies.
It's one of the clear BENEFITS of having hearing damage. Having ear plugs around that is.
My hearing might be better than yours. I dunno. I got ear plugs and you may not. I win.
You can't take food or liquids on a plane without spreading your cheeks and jumping through flaming hoops. That's OK. I ate my final pre-Vegas meal and you can bet it wasn't some sort of ass 'roid flaming affair. I don't want to eat on a fucking plane. I want to FLY on a fucking plane..to where I want to go. I can wait to cram my face with food until I get there.
I've got a nice beer drunk going..no whiskey. I can put it off until tommorow night when I'll be able to order bourbon & water drinks with reckless abandon.I'm staying at Terribles due to their free shuttle service. On Thursday at noon my chess pal Jimmy Yu from L.A. will pick me up and transport me to the Riviera. Later in the day I'll play a game in an exhibition with the actual reigning United States chess champeen. Pretty impressive in my book. What's your hobbie? Have you ever once thrown down with the BEST in our fair land?
It's like an indy wrestler getting squashed by the Undertaker...an honor.
Then on Friday the tournament itself begins. Will I upset a master or two? or get beaten down into the Nevada dust? We'll see. It's not a game for mollycoddles..and pinks had best stick to that Sudoku hogwash.
A good solid weekend of getting things done. This is a very full goddamned Summer around here. I'm leaving for my favorite annual chess tournament in Vegas on Wednesday...the National Open. I've been preparing of course. Today I got a draw with my Fritz computer set at master level ( a world class bit of software from Germany ).
The was the "smart" end of things around here. We're dumb in many ways too of course. Right now there's a mysterious smell in the house. I've been walking around sniffing stupidly trying to identify the source. Why? I remember writing a column about how silly humanoids are for doing that when there's a buttload type stench around.
Then there's the power outage. I was cooking egg noodles to go with some chow I made earlier. Elvis was over..we were playing PS2 baseball. Marla was eating something else.
Suddenly, without warning at 9:30 pm or so..WHAM! A power outage accompanying hurricane like rains outside. It was like a sitcom..three of us stumbling around trying to find candles and matches and lighters that actually worked.
Marla and Elvis found about 4 candles and sat down to wait it out. Me? I wanted MORE candles..BIGGER candles..BACKUP candles. Better lighters and matches. I guess I'm a bit more nuerotic than them during power outages.
Finally, I wanted to eat the goddamned food I had been heating up. I somehow managed to. I don't mind drinking in the dark at all..but fuck..I want to see what I'm shoveling into my gaping maw.
Elvis made a perilous drive to the steakhouse his fiance was working at to check on her; OK. That's a manly thing to do. The lights came back on about the time I was done eating in the dark. A minute or three later I heard a hissing sound...Uhh...a forgotten burner had been left in the "on" position and was now scalding an empty pot.
I tended to that and blew all the candles out..feeling like doing so was going to ensure another outage.
Marla went to bed early. I expended a half hour or so watching a food network "reality" show in which they're trying to select a new "star". There were two teams of aspiring superstar chefs..team green and team orange. One team headed by what I'd describe as a blonde "CILF" ( " chef I'd like to fuck") did a horrible job thanks to her piss poor leadership. The "reality" dialogue ( yeah..SURE..) depicted her dismayed because everybody was BLAMING HER for things. Well, honey..even though the show isn't any more real than a night of sincere affectionate glances and gestures at a titty bar, I take issue with your charachter's alleged bewilderment. In the REAL WORLD when you're in charge and things go wrong..YOU'RE FUCKED. Out you go, baby.
At least that's what they do in well run places. You're payed for RESULTS. You don't blame failure on lower ranking people who were just being good team players and following a bad leader.
Speaking of the Food network..I've hashed it out with Mike McNally a few times on the phone concerning Rachael Ray. Where do the rest of you stand on this issue? Yes, she's sugary and full of pep almost to a nauseating level....but DAMNIT, I hate food snobs..and those are the bastards who bitch about Racheal.
Of course she doesn't need my defense. She's likely got a few millions stashed away from her shows and books. It's all based on COMMON SENSE recipes many of which I can use with slight adjustment for my low sodium needs.
I don't need some glitzy cunt yammering about stylish "Napa valley" food with an emphasis on presentation. I didn't like Rachael at first either..but I've got to tell the truth..I like her now. She at least seems practical and delivers practical recipes..even if she probably lives in a frigging penthouse.
Would anybody like to chip in their opinion? I'll post it here.
It's fun to note..Marla REALLY hates "Paula's party" on the food network. I don't dare torment her with even 30 seconds of it. And me? I can't stand 1) Bobby Flay, 2) Bobby Flay and 3) the "judges" on the Americanized Iron Chef show. You talk about a gaggle of pretentious yuppie imbeciles..OOHHHH!
Good 'ol Alton Brown ( I hope I'm related to him..I have Brown relatives from the South ) is able to balance things out to an extent. He's of course really, really good. Some of those judges must make a level headed guy like him want to puke or turn in his notice.
Actually, one of the better regular judges is the glasses dude from the "queer eye" show. The whole show is pretty shakey more often than not though.
Oh yeah..while I'm at it, I can't FUCKING STAND any cake decoration shows. How ridiculous? A tiny fragment of the population in the USA is capable of cooking food I'd consider worthy of troweling out to the proverbial razorback hog..but "Let them decorate cake"!
Ignore the overwhelming mediocrity of the spudheads in the kitchen. Program hour after hour of impractical fluff. BBRRAAPPP!!!!!
There is a common experience amongst rich and poor men alike that can't be avoided. That is, the onslaught of fucking annoying insects.
All night I've been stalked by a couple of indestructable moths in the kitchen and a pesky house fly with a brain clearly larger than mine in the living room. Where are the fucking cats during all this? I pledged I wouldn't write about them here, but this is an exception. They should be earning their keep by holding the bugs at bay, but that's not happening.
These aren't lazy buggs...they buzz right into my ugly face even when I'm swinging a towel at their asses. NOTE! We don't have more than 3 insects in this house to my knowledge, but they're driving me apeshit.
Small in numbers, high in annoyance factor...AHH HAH! Al Queerdo buggs. Maybe I'll need to swing a pork chop at 'em.
I am fat...are you? it's MY fault.
I am smart..but I know a lot of dumb people. It's THEIR fault..
Is it so bad that they're dumb? Well, maybe..maybe not.
Some people born with little to work with stomp ye olde frigging mud hole in the intellectual ass of many born with "brains" who are under achievers.
Either way, it's THEIR FAULT...THEIR CHOICE.
Do you know geography? Can you name 40 State capitals? 30? 20? 10?
It's your fault.
Are you flat-ass, piss poor broke? Living in scuzzy surroundings?
I have been at times over the years. It was MY FAULT...and it's YOUR FAULT when you're going through hard times. Well, 98% of you.
Are you for better or worse addicted to alcohol or drugs or Oprah or strippers who you are convinced love you? It's YOUR fault. Gambling? YOUR FAULT!
Do you miss a lot of work because of "problems at home"?? It's YOUR FAULT.
I've had problems at home over the years like many people..and it was my fault when I fucked up at work because of it.
Zits? YOUR FAULT.
Tires with low air pressure? YEP.
Has it ever dawned upon you one day that you've been SUCKERED by a lover or a friend or a boss or co-worker or talkshow host or salesman or preacher or politician?
It's YOUR FAULT.
Woken up in bed with a real specimen? Yeah...that's all your fault.
Mis-judge a series of boyfriends or hubbies who beat you..it's your OWN goddamned fault you never wised up or learned how to judge people better.
Hey guys..ever woken up in the midst of a relationship and realized you're a pathetic, pussywhipped weakling? It's your fault.
Ryan Howard is batting .220...it's HIS fault.
If your life is at a comparative low state...it's just as much YOUR FAULT as his.
I have NO fucking idea what ever drove so many educators and con-men and politicians and opinonated TV personalities and ambulance chasing lawyers and holymen and women and Sunday school teachers to begin chanting this "NOT YOUR FAULT NOT YOUR FAULT"! bull shit mantra, but it's a load of crap.
You can control your drinking...
You can educate yourself...even in prison or without the benefit of schools.
You can tell that bitch or bastard to hit the FUCKING BRICKS and LEARN a lesson from it.
Life is tough...but it's one helluva lot easier here in the USA today than it has been in 99% of places over the millenia. A flat broke pissant dumbass crank loving moron living in a hovel in our fair nation has it better than most folks have over the ages. That's a fucking FACT.
By god, I was ahead of the world in realizing the overall worthlessness of Paris Hilton. I recognized and wrote columns expressing my views years ago.
As I gazed out my 16th floor window of my Hilton Americas hotel room in Houston this weekend I thought..SHIT, the Hilton chain has sunk really low when they have to cater to my likes. It has to be because of the backlash against that spoiled twat.
I haven't stayed in a Hilton hotel in years. The occasion was a 4 day chess tournament that delivered a "chess" rate.
I'm not really here to go into detail about the event..the Texas amateur championship ( held in conjunction with the overall State championship ). I think I finished tied for 14th with a 4 1/2-2 1/2 record that sounds good, but isn't impressive at all to me. I had a great time though...and that's what hobbies are all about. 3 wins, 3 draws against players I outrated ( which sunk me ) and 1 loss. It was good practice for the National open in Vegas weekend after this. I'll be playing in the "open" section this year which will be dominated by 10-15 Grandmasters.
How was the Hilton hotel better than the usual Quality inn box style, impersonal room?
Well, the view was incredible. After the games each night I repaired to my room, ordered room service club sandwiches and drank tons of beer. There was oddly no frig. I had to ice beers down in the sink using the "one bucket" method I've written extensively about. It's not like I'm a shy fellow, but I didn't feel comfortable toting a big cooler in. There were eyes and cameras EVERYWHERE. Lots of the staff members gave me hard looks as it was. Most of the customers were dressed really nice. From what I can tell most arrived from the valet parking area and looked like they were quite well heeled. Lots of guys in Tuxes and suits and ladies in snazzy dresses.
I parked in the self park located across a sky bridge a 1/4 mile from my room and smuggled beers in low key style. I sure as FUCK can't afford to drink in a Hilton lounge. I have some well heeled or expense account equipped friends and readers who are probably snickering at my Johnny 6-Pack lowliness, but it's the truth.
I managed to not yield to the temptations of the in-room stocked bar with it's shots of booze ranging from $8-$11 bucks and tons of tempting $4 lumps of chocolate. I checked very closely before brewing coffee to make sure it was free. I sat in one of my easy chairs with matching foot rests sucking from cans and tried to visualize myself ever having the dough to enjoy the pleasures of the downstairs bar, but eventually realized I'd have to be around a bunch of rich fucks giving me the one eye. They probably dig Paris!
I enjoyed the great view of half of Houston for free. It was a really, really great window. I looked down on Minute Maid ( Astro's home ) park in the foreground, some short and dated historic "skyscrapers" from the 30's and many huge office builds that make the old ones look sick. I saw freeways and a few well heeled types on foot in the immediate vicinity, but no staggering drunks pissing at will. It was nice and clean and safe...really a bit TOO safe for my liking. No medium or inexpensive scale restaurants within sight. If I was staying in a Red-Roof Inn I bet there would've been lots of choices where to eat. But, nope.
One thing is for sure: the hotels in Vegas I enjoy have way the fuck more to offer. More entertainment for all budgets, more freaks to watch vomiting in alleys, that's where I really feel at home.
I had 2 beds in the room..supposedly doubles. They were small, but goddamned comfy. Each had half a dozen lush pillows. The ice machine was broken on my floor ( four stars huh?) and not fixed during my visit and there were only 2 tiny little waste backets my cans soon overflowed. On the positive side, the thermostat was easy to use and ass kicking, the towels world class, the rooms quiet and boasting 2 phones and the best alarm clock I've seen in my life.
The TV was large, but I was such a rube I couldn't figure out for HOURS how to slide it out of its cabinet and tuck it's doors inside itself so I could see it from all over the room. That's my fault. It WASN'T my fault though that they provided fancy rich people butt wipe that wads up in my ass. GIVE ME SCOTT tissue, damnit!
Overall, my rare stay at a 4 star was very pleasant. The hallways and foyers were loaded with remotely located expensive sofa's and easy chairs I could've slept in. The staff sometimes gaped at me as if wondering whether to call security based on my khaki fishing vest and sweat pants, but never actually did.
One final point of interest. Remember, I'm one of the last people in America to not own a cellphone by choice. There were NO normal payphones in the joint. The wealthy ALL have cellphones. They didn't even bother to charge for credit card calls from room phones..why? Because obviously their clientele all use smellphones. The hotel operator I asked had to consult a super when I asked. She sounded curious why anybody would want to call from the room phones. I'm pretty stodgy when it comes to the damned things, aren't I?
Upon further reflection, I wonder if maybe the GOOD ass gaskets were locked up in the in-room bar / snack ripoff center? HHmmm.
Bottom line: I had a great first overnight time on Houston soil..I never even thought of back home or any of you for 3 nights and 4 days. That's what travelings all about, right? BYO-BW ( butt wipe ) though if you stay there. Urp.
I'm sitting here gurgling into my shot glass.
Elvis and Sarah encountered the Admiral ( my Father-in-law ) on his own turf and he made a jackass out of himself. It was bad, worse than I predicted. He's got money and a boat and a nice hat and a decent Wife, but he's still the prick I walked away from in the mid 80's.
I felt really bad for Sarah, Elvis's fiance. Her people can't be perfect, but they've made a good effort to appreciate Elvis. The admiral was just a dick.
It's fun to be able to predict the future, but I really wish he had been a better guy. I'd like to be able to acknowledge his improved behavior over the years, but it'd be a goddamned lie.
WHY in the fuck haven't his kids ( including Marla ) called him out?
Is there an asshole in your family who needs attitude adjustment?
Putting it off won't help. He's getting up there in years. His Grandchildren and G-Grandchildren and well, his frigging children themselves will all get together at his funeral someday in the future and talk about what an ASSHOLE he was; JUST like his Father.
Unless they straighten him out that is. It's still not too late...but, I wouldn't bet a dime anybody has the balls to deal with him.
It's a shame.
I've been also gurgling about my hobbies.I feel very lucky to have some good ones. Two of them are music and chess. Both of these are con jobs in a big way. You can be an absolute shithead chess player and win a prize for players at your strength level ( which may be awful!) well into 4 figures...and even 5 at a couple events. Meanwhile, strong masters starve trying to put together some sort of living by giving lessons over the internet and playing in mind blowing weekend tournaments that rush their game. If they're lucky they can get a book deal..but they won't make all that much money.
Music is a fine hobby..loads of fun..but it's a complete con job. The music biz is the most corrupt, HORRID institution on the face of the earth. It has a way of trickling it's worst attributes down to amateurs who soon begin to feel their shit doesn't stink. It's so steeped in hype it's really hard to find anybody with a fucking lick of sense in a band.
There are a few others out there who are able to combine loves of strong chess and music; in this hybrid quest Ray Charles was probably King. He was one of the most brilliant multi-instrumentalists who ever walked the face of the planet, but still could play chess on a par with me, Napoleon and Humphrey Bogart ( a couple other multi-faceted guys). The artist Duchamp could've kicked my ass. What's more, I can't paint a lick.
A handful of people might worry thinking I'm not into music anymore having re-discovered chess, but that's not the case. It's just a much easier means of having fun. Anything you do while drunk is like taking a break compared to a game where you have to be sober and grind out a slow win over the course of 6-7 hours in some cases.
Maybe writing is my favorite hobby of all...you can be drunk as a lord and NAIL a passage or a couple pages that'll satisfy you it'll stand long after the gophers are delivering your mail.
I'll be leaving on Friday morning for a 4 day chess tournament..the Texas State and amateur championship. I feel very lucky to have all of my faculties and be one of the top players in the amateur section. I actually WON the Portland and Seattle amateur championships which were identical in format to this one. That was back when I SUCKED. With some luck I'll pull off a win like this event one of these days. I don't plan to quit until I'm dead.
I've got the National open coming up in Vegas baby in a couple weekends. I'm playing in the bigboy "open" section with all the Grandmasters..UURRpp.
Anyway, whatever you pray to, offer up a plea for me over in Houston this weekend.
I'm still PISSED. But, I have other things to write about..so..if you're offended GO FIND A JOB IN CUBA if you're into chic by the numbers collectivism.
Elvis and his fiance have spent most of the last week in the belly of the beast..Seattle Washington...hosted initially by the Admiral himself..my lovable Father-in-law
I've boycotted the company of him along with Marla's deceased Mother ( who HATED me ) and his 2nd wife for about 23 years now. I've maintained decent relationships with Marla's sane Granny ( who I really do admire ) and her youngest Sister to an extent, she brought her sons ( 2 of many Nephews ) to our house even though she may think I'm nuts. She went to see Wayne Hancock as a 4-some with Marla, Mark and I.
Marla has another Sister and a Brother she just hasn't stayed close to.
I can't imagine what their memories are of me; I remember them as early 20's types. Add 23 years to that rough figure and you'll see where we are.
I actually decided long ago the Admiral has redeeming virtues..we got drunk together quite well. I still won't have anything to do with him as long as he remains a control freak of sorts.
It seems as though there's been quite a few others ( spouses, etc. ) in their family who feel the same way.
Having withdrawn from the whole situation, I have no rights to complain about how any of them feel about me..although I'm of course curious.
So, Elvis the Libra and his fiance ( I really feel a bit sorry for her! ) have had a week to spend time in various capacities with them all.
I'll get a first hand report tomorrow when they fly back in. I already know he's had a mind blowing experience judging from an email.
His Aunts and Uncle would like to know more about him and have made an effort to get together. They've always been kept in the vague dark about Marla and I in terms of what the hell makes us tick..what our lives are all about. That's Marla's choice...as it should be.
Anyway, to make it all interesting they took Elvis and F to a big assed rock and roll museum in Seattle. On the wall was a guitar placed in monumental fashion saluting family friend Greg Sage.
I think it was at this moment that Elvis I think realized the significance of that friendship. To Elvis, Greg ( and this makes sense ) was just another guy who signed a couple records for him over the years. It seems to have been a HOLY SHIT! moment. His Aunt took them to see a museum featuring a shrine to one of our family friends?
Why are Marla and I ( me much more..I'm the asshole ) some sort of family pariah's?
I really don't know how he reacted visually; I have a notion that it would've been an edifying experience for Aunty and F if he pointed at the display and said.."THIS is one of our friends". If he did it could've answered some un asked questions in an effective manner. I don't know if he did though. I guess I'll find out when they arrive back in the lone star state tomorrow night. I guess it's not THAT big a deal..but it'd be nice to see Marla and her siblings arrive at some sort of understanding. What better way? They all claim to love music,,?!
OK, I was pretty fair minded and neutral on the subject of immigration..emphasis on the word WAS. After the reaction I've seen to the creampuff horseshit Senate proposal I've swung into the camp of NO COMPASSION..COMPASSION can KISS MY ASS.
Every advocate of illegals should be oozing with love and thanks for such a GIFT..but so far as I can see they all scoff at it as not being ENOUGH.
Well, FUCK OFF then. We don't live in a borderless world. It's not the birthright of multiple millions of non-citizens to have automatic status for themselves and their entire families.
Citizenship is something that comes with certain responsiblities and limitations for the rest of us..why should there be a humongous group above the law?
Every crappy, piss-ant job I've had over the last 20 years required that I show my birth certificate..why should I have to do that while millions skate by without having to do so?
I don't care if I have to pay $10 a head for lettuce or $10 a pound for strawberries. The arrogance of the pro-illegals just pisses me off so bad I don't care how expensive a few agricultural products are ( I think the case is way overstated incidentally ).
Maybe it's time to bring to open up the borders to folks from other 3rd world nations besides Mexico and certain central american nations to harvest our crops.
Don't try to pull on my heartstrings and appeal to my sympathies; I no longer HAVE sympathy for Mexican illegals.
The blame for not enforcing our existing immigration laws can be placed largely at the feet of the politicians ( bi-partisan ) whom are beholden to fat cat employers who are addicted to cheap labor.
This isn't some theory I cooked up; it's CLEARLY the truth. It's not a typical left-right issue for this reason.
As far as I'm concerned, if it comes to it I'd rather see a little blood run in the streets of a few cities than hump the social $$$ responsibilty for a score of a million of low budget workers and their entire families onto the backs of the already soon to be overburdened generation of 20-30 year olds who will be in deep shit soon trying to maintain social security benefits for baby boomers.
Agree or disagree?..I don't care. Just don't try to use some emotional appeal. I no longer suck up to that shit after the ingrateful blather I've seen over the last few days. If you don't want to break up your wonderful family, DON'T cross the border. If you need help..LOOK TO YOUR OWN government.
Every politician advocating this program can suck my asshole. You're all un-american bastards addicted to the contributions of greedy S.O.B.'s who are selling out our country.
CALIFORNIA..or OKLAHOMA? San Diego or Srillwater.
On a chess discussion group today somebody referred to the fact that the U.S. chess championship is being held in Stillwater OK as a "let down" after last years event in San Diego.
I got to thinking about it and decided that it's not such a clearcut disaster.
When I was a kid growing up in Boregon I was deprived of a visit to California. We made auto trip to visit relatives in places like St. Joseph Missouri and Fergus falls Minnesota and Agency Iowa. My Sister and I dreamed of a trip to Disneyland, but NO. It wasn't until I was 20 fucking years old..an adult with a Wife that I first visited California.
This was the mid-late 70's. I have to admit, it really lived up to it's reputation as being some sort of paradise back then. Even the hippies hadn't spoiled San Francisco. It was a fun city..left leaning, but not in any overwhelming way. As the population surged over the years prices went up and up and up. No more cheap hotels or motels in the city. Everything else expensive in turn. No more visable blue collar part of town. Just high dollar houses, overpriced flats and of course lots of projects.
PARKING? HAH! On a visit in the 90's it was so bad I couldn't do half the things I wanted to. I've visited the bay area many times over the years since and had a good time, but it's hardly what I'd call a paradise. There's just TOO many people. If you have a lot of money or people to stay with you'll do all right though.
Whenever I smell fresh oranges I actually think back to my first visit to L.A. also in the late 70's. Man, THAT was paradise. Yeah, there were traffic problems and some smog and things could get pricey. 10-15-20 years down the road..add a couple million more people and the place is just FUCKED.
We lived in North Hollywood and Hollywood for a while in the late 80's. I enjoyed a lot of things about it, but FUCK...it wasn't paradise any longer.
My swimming pool analogy works well hear. Take the most lovely, soothing pool..fill it with 1/2 again as many people as it was designed for and you don't have a lovely pool anymore. It's sheer HELL.
NOTE, I've visited friends over the years and had a great time in THEIR ENVIRONMENT. With a fat wallet you can have a great time in Southern California. You need to plan out where you're going what time of day of course, it can be done. Paradise? Uhh..inside peoples homes and yards. I'm glad I lived there when I did. We couldn't afford to now...period.
That's a shame.
Many of the crappiest neighborhoods in California have beautiful names reminding us that they once were part of the California "dream". Check out Panorama city sometime..or lush Santa Fe Springs.
Smaller California towns that used to be homey and fun to visit have seen their populations soar, leaving them medium sized cities with TOO many people, HIGH PRICES, etc. Modesto was a nice place to visit..up until a few years ago. Even Redding way up North now sucks.
As for San Diego? I haven't been there in 20 years. I'm not against visiting there, but I'll expect tons of traffic, bad air, limited access to what used to be pristine beaches, a swarm of crackheads "working" the tourists and above all TOO MANY PEOPLE.
I've actually never been to Oklahoma. It's one of the 5 States I've managed to miss.
I'm sure that will change within the next couple years. From what I've heard, they've got plenty of sand just like San Diego..and plenty of sun. I'll bet the food and lodging prices are very reasonable and that the locals are friendly to a fault.
Oklahoma has a reputation from over the years since the dust bowl era of being the antithesis of "paradise. Shit..it can't be that bad.
Wayne Hancock's last cd was titled "Tulsa"..he sings a title song filled with praise for the town. NOTE! When he sings Jimmie Rodgers "California blues" he always seems to roll his eyes as if trying to keep a straight face when he sings the line: "going to California where they sleep out every night.."
As a musical King of the road, Wayne is up to date on all these places. If he says Tulsa is the place..maybe it's time I get my ass up to Oklahoma to see what all the talk is about. I won't turn down any opportunities to go to California..I've got lots of friends and family there..and I expect many more good times in the future. It's not a paradise anymore though and I think it's silly and dated to claim that it's some sort of a step up over a possible NEW PARADISE..
Oklahoma..get behind it before it gets behind YOU.
That's what I racked up.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking..Mike McNally is within a few months of my age and has straight "A"'s except for one goddamned B over two academic years. But, shit...he's done it at a wussy Portland Boregon community college.
Actually I'm well aware of how many really top students would cry a river if they got stuck with a shitass "B"...even one. I don't fucking care though..in the old days the shithead p.c. class I got the B in would've caused me to withdraw from the University. I dealt with it and I'll goddamned write the core of a book about it. The only problem is, as with most of my best stories a large percentage of people will think I'm lying; that there's NOOoooo fucking way a class like I will describe could be not only offered, but REQUIRED.
UUrrp. I've turned my mind towards chess study. I went to the Austin chess club again tonight and played some blitz games with one of the best players ( lost all but one..but comported myself well enough ) ...and watched a lot of other games. I'm getting ready for a big 4 day tournament in Houston..followed by the National open in Vegas.
I didn't actually talk to my Mother on the phone today ( she's still recovering from a stroke ) but Elvis delivered the goods on Mothers day by hauling his Mother to a Mexican lunch at a place here in town. I'll try to make a flurry of phone calls tomorrow to Mommy dearest and to my Granny in Southern Oregon whom I worship and who knows whom else.
Uhh...my brain is bouncing back. School is over. No more crying or gloating about it for awhile. I'm working steadily on a 1/2 gallon of Beam Marla got me........
Jesus fucking Christ. I've turned into some sort of a pussie drinker. Lost all of my stanima ( uhh stamina ) on my collegiate intelligent drinking regimen. Well, I've got a Summer to get back in shape.
All the other horseshit trauma is already behind me. It took about 3 days this time..good.
I had one helluva bad hour last night. Get this...my Mercury cop car had a mysterious problem. After having the starter and battery replaced it failed to start twice nearly leaving me stuck in a town with few cabs if any most of the time. We took it back to the garage and they left a phone message saying the problem was fixed. We drove down there in our healthy Taurus..best car we ever bought. We did so in a jam stuck in South Carolina years ago when the engine blew on our last van. The Taurus has been a ballsy, no fail vehicle. So, marla was going to drive the Merc home whilst I ran errands. Guess what? The frigging Irwin curse....the Taurus suddenly wouldn't start as I turned the key. We eventually got it going and I managed to get it home. I climbed into the Merc to run the errands as Marla worked to fix the Taurus..cleaning the battery cables.
I drove to the library..returned some DVD's..left the engine running. I went to a beer store I usually don't go to...went to open the door...which turned out to be a goddamned California faggot sliding affair..it ripped my stinking finger open. I cussed at the top of my lungs as blood spurted. The sorority cunt working the register got real wide eyed. "Oohhh....can I help you? Can I do anything"..she said? "Yeah..I bellowed...you can get me something to wrap my finger so I don't squirt blood all over your damned store"!
She got me some hokey little napkins. I bought a case of 24. Luckily my lovely wife had bought me a half gallon of Beam. I managed to turn the key with my left hand and barreled home. Marla had fixed the Ford. I got drunk.
Today I studied some solid chess openings and eventually got mad and switched to studying some crazy ass attacking gambits. Somebody's gonna pay...FUCK IT.
I haven't enjoyed my last couple nights of sleep either. I've had a recurring nightmare two nights in a row...in which I get painful jabs like knives in my side at regular intervals. I'm done with school though. Goddamnit. I get my grades next Monday...and I should be getting another Dean's list 3.75 unless I'm seriously mistaken.
Humping jumping Jesus. I've gotta cook a meat loaf tommorow ( I worked up a batch of curry beef with broc and red bell peppers yesterday...served over Thai elephant noodles).
It's the studio for a mixdown Friday...and I've got a butterball turkey thawing to cook up on Saturday recovering from that. The Texas stud will be rolling along with us..gotta record permanent vocal tracks. He'll be a great influence on my picking up the pace knocking back shots.
Shit, I've gotta get fitted for a tux for Elvis's big wedding on 7/7/7. I need a couple packs of new shorts too from J.C. Penny's. I've got a room mate for the National open in Vegas this year. Can't gross 'em out too much...UUrruuppppppp
I survived finals..BARELY. It's the morning after the last day and I'm sitting here with sore legs ( no problem ) a 4 day case of vertigo that has been slightly receding and I've forgotten many, many mundane details of daily life. I couldn't remember how to use the oven broiler on a sandwich yesterday and have been unable to memorize Marla's new cell phone number.
I think I'm pretty good at draining my brain of selective data and refilling it with other data and then switching "back". This is to me the essence of...uhh....something. I can't find the word. My brain really is fried.
Friday was the last killer day. I had a final for my Westward expansion History course on Thursday afternoon. I did pretty well I think. I had to come home and switch gears, dump that subject and it's names, facts, details, etc. from my mind and load it with info about Rome and my bullshit course. Unfortunately for me, the Roman final began at the undogly hour of 8:00 fucking a.m.!!! Stay up all night? Try to sleep? What should I do?
I wound up watching most of a ballgame with Elvis ( we have the MLB baseball package..baseball day and night ) sluffing off my bullshit class for last minute cramming and spending a couple wee hours on ROme. I managed to coax myself to sleep for about 3 hours, although I got up twice during that.
Riding that final shuttlebus was a pleasure for a sadist like me. There were lots of students obviously on the verge of crackup who hadn't studied all semester and were trying to do it all in a few nights. You could feel the stress and pain in the air on the bus. I got off on it. I showed up with near blistered, painful red eyes but a wacky smile. I thought about last minute serious study in front of the History building but said FUCK it and went over my detailed, prepared 3"X5" note cards. When I looked at the 8 items we had to choose 5 identifications from I was very pleased. No surprises. Nothing I had missed. I managed to get down all sorts of trivial details about the amphitheater at Pompeii, the Praetorian guard and the Roman Imperial navy.
Outside afterwards I felt like a huge burden had been lifted off...and then I remembered I had still ONE more bloody final; the worst one for my bullshit class which was geared to p.c. buzzwords ( more about that of course in the future).
I thought about Ty Cobb and the beer at home in the frig and went to get the last jumbo coffee of the semester. I sat for an hour and a half talking with a couple fellow students making a couple slow circuits through my notecards.
I went to the classroom ahead of time ready to TCB and get the fuck out...but it was like a scene out of junior high school...students ( average age 18 years 6 months I bet ) were loudly jabbering positive "helpful" questions and answers ( SHUT UPP!!!!!!) and causing a roar of vocal pollution in the room that made my head ache. I had very little brain matter left to activate..and they were throwing me off badly. FINALLY the teacher arrived late and engaged in blather with the students for awhile. At one point I slammed my fist down on my desk HARD..too hard...but I had the sense to cover my action by slamming it a few more times rhythmically ( mustn't express anger in any way of course ) as if preparing myself stoically. FINALLY the tests were handed out.
I did what I could for 80% of the test and then realized I had an incredible case of gas built up; I needed to fart and it'd be a room clearer without doubt. What to do? Oh the challenges of academia!
It was pretty weird a feeling; I hadn't anything to eat...where did the gas come from? I managed to choke it back up into my guts and finish the test. Of course I couldn't just toss the form on the desk and leave, we had to have a meaningful individual goodbye with the instructor.
I let it go ( the room clearing fart ) in the elevator..alone. I waltzed out at ground zero as a couple sorority girl types got in. That made me chuckle. I bummed a menthol cigarette of some type from somebody..and contemplated taking a shit or making a break for home. I realized it must have been some sort of biological fluke..a "stress" gas build up if that's possible?!? I didn't need to shit. I needed to drink precisely 2 cans of Bud fast and take a nap.
I might add that my mild vertigo kept annoying me throughout these happening.
I too a shuttlebus back to the parking lot. It was filled with shellshocked looking students for the most part. One of them I knew from a class told me how his old man was going to be PISSED at him. I felt like telling him to tell his old man to piss up a yogi rope. Instead I just grinned appropriately.
My car wouldn't start at first..AWW SHIT! I pounded the steering wheel..and it magically started. I drank a fast beer, quickly showered as if it would help remove the stress and woes of finals week...and took a final beer into the sack.
I had many hours to sleep, but couldn't achieve a r.e.m....I kept waking up from various pains mental and physical. Eventually Marla got home. I tried to explain to her how I had forgotten how to heat up a sandwich. We eventually made it down to Wayne Hancock's show in Austin even though the vertigo was still annoying. Since it's caused by too much glaring at computer screens and flashing my eyes back and forth from a set of notes to a book to another book and to a tiny card over and over and over and over for hour upon hour day after day..I figured it'd be best to stand in front of the stage, remove my glasses and enjoy the music without eye strain for an evening.
I drank several beers. We yakked a bit with Joey. Great set. Just what I needed. I managed to get to sleep at 3:19 a.m. and stayed there until 2:00 p.m. although I kept waking up every hour or so. My body's been trained to do that for months. It'll take some doing to coax it back into a deep slumber setting.
The vertigo this Saturday afternoon is mostly gone. I'm gonna stay away from reading for the most part and back away from this computer. If I haven't forgotten how to play chess I'll lightly play over a mess of grandmaster games for fun later this night and maybe listen to some music.
I think I could heat a sandwich today..but I haven't gotten much else back. Someone said it's Cinco de mayo today? I can't for the life of me remember what the holiday is specifically about except obviously getting drunk. I plan on doing that anyway. Is tomorrow Mother's day? Shit, in all the excitement I've forgotten about my Mother recovering from a stroke laying in a hospital ( seriously )..OOpps! I'm not saying this to be funny, I really forgot. Time to scoop all the academic b.s. out of my head and download the mundane details of my existance.
Happy may 1st to all you commies out there. Uhh..sorry your school of political thought isn't doing so good these days.
Oh well. I don't have time to think much about that. I managed to pull off an incredibly challenging Monday..a 94 out of 100 in a presentation in my shitty class and my final in German. I'm damned proud of the fact that I've done well in German. Only 2 more semesters to go. UUrrpp.
I've got 3 finals on Thurs/Fri though I've been studying for today. I studied until my eyes are blistered red. Seriously, I'm suffering from vertigo, but that's part of the challenge.
Luckily I've got the carrot of a Wayne Hancock show on Friday night to look forward to. It'll be my official "I'm done" act of celebration. Goddamn. I'm fucking beat.
I'm going to unwind with a DVD of Bob Will's & the Texas Playboys performances. I wish I had more to say, but I'm brain dead except for my approaching finals curriculum.
A heavy German test and a bullshit presentation scheduled for Monday. 2 days rest and then 3 finals spanning Thursday and Friday. The key is to not lose focus on the final fucking lap. At least I think so.
I'm definitely keyed up enough, so I decided after a day of study to play some PS2. It's an empty house except for me and the dumbass cats..Marla's working a weird overnighter. I've been playing PS2 baseball for the last 10 days or so..which I played partners with Elvis for many years. A problem came up...just when I needed no stress to add to my plateful, my 3 team "dynasty" got so screwed up ( all the pitchers in AAA and the other players in AA ) I couldn't fix it. Well, OK. I switched to good old dependable Tiger Woods golf. 15 holes into the 2nd round of the U.K. championship the stinking screen went black...WHAT THE FUCK?
I need to get El over here to fix it all. He always handled the mundane franchise details for our teams. I should've paid attention.
It's Saturday night..and I need some feelgood time. The VHS is still working ( for the time being ) so I've selected a no fail "comfort" film to watch: COBB.
I've got a jug of Beam and several beers handy. Cobb's a lovable guy..he didn't tolerate pinks and moddlecoddles..and that's the sort of frame of mind I want to be in. Finals week favors the long haul gutsy students who don't squat to piss. In Deutsche we refer to a girly man squat pisser as a "sitz pinkler". UUrrppppppp. Ok...enough.
I'm so fucking sick and tired of every possible avenue of blame being explored in the media as to WHY Cho killed.
The schoolyard ( reinforced by the ignorance and inability of American's in any significant number of understanding what goes on at school ) created Cho. There were a few stories popping up here and there referring to the fact that he was laughed at and treated like shit...but once again society wrings it's hands and looks for an answer when it's right under their fucking noses.
Of course I'm sensitive to what Cho went through at school because in 7th grade I went through living hell at school. I was a nerd, an egghead. I wasn't ever beaten up ( I was too big I guess ) but I was taunted by groups of 15-20 students at a time.
I never took it as far as Cho did, but I wrote up enemy lists and had fantasy killing spree dreams for many, many years. I went from wanting to be accepted to hating the kids around me. A couple years down the road in 9th grade everybody had matured a bit. They wanted to befriend me..well, some of them. It was too late.
I figured that if I managed to survive high school I'd be able to run my life the way I wanted to and not have to kowtow to assholes in groups treating me like shit.
Somewhere along the line my recurring dreams of going back to my school and slaughtering a lot of them at once faded away. I no longer maintained enemy lists or kill lists.
I'm middleaged as can be now. You'd think I'd be mentally miles away from the schoolyard. Well, I am I guess..even though I haven't forgotten.
When I see on TV outsiders and nerds taking guns to school and killing their enemies, I wonder why in the fuck society isn't capable of figuring out what drove them to it.
They seem to have come closer to understanding killers coming back to the workplace..why not kids killing at schools?
I have to say for the record that I think it's better in the long run for a kid or a disgruntled worker not to give up their own life for revenge. There are other ways of obtaining revenge that can leave you sitting back sipping cocktails..unsuspected...rather than dead meat.
Cho was screwed up in the head. Humanoids made him that way..and then drove him to an over the top rampage. Maybe in a hundred years if the planet hasn't been annihilated by nukes mainstream humanoids will be able to see the roots of the problem. I'm not betting on it.
A weekend with not of much homework as is usually the case. I'm worn down and think it's more important to get my strength back. I worked a bit on my last paper Saturday, but quickly lost my ability to judge whether I was writing shit or good stuff. Luckily, I started the paper early and have extra time. It's done..I just can't tell if it sucks. I'll probably review it tommorow and turn it in on Tuesday. No major changes though..I'm not up to it.
One good bit of news. I gambled and put time I could've spent on other classes into studying for a Political science test Friday. The stakes: if I got an "A" it was CLASS OVER. No need to take the final. Luckily it worked out.
Time to sell the text books. I'm fucking done.
I had to call on Marla today to help me reason things out to make sure I haven't forgotten some tiny detail or obligation in all the excitement. I have an aural German test with just a partner and the Prof. tommorow. I think it'll go good. If so, I can push that class to the back of the stove and work on an assignment for the class I hate. Oddly enough, my History classes which are considered very serious senior classes are going the best. I have 97-98 averages in both going into the finals. There's some study to be done before finals but I need to get my energy back.
I watched a great documentary on Sherman's march on the History channel. Oddly enough it'll be worked into the final lines of the paper I'm finishing off. As a native Boregonian living in the South I know I don't make my friends in Dixie happy when I show equanimity to the Union Generals. So what. They should examine exactly what I say and not try to lump me in with judgemental yankee's. The civil war / war between the States is like an old chess game from another time to me. I'm very evenhanded when it comes to applauding individual efforts of officers and soldiers on both sides. If you want to bicker with me, I'm serving notice: you'd better book up. Don't try to coast on tales handed down by your Grandparents. It wasn't a simple war, it's very hard to decipher what they exactly were fighting for at various stages of it.
An African American Historian sporting a bow tie ( a coincidence? ) in the doc. summed things up pretty well as far as whether Sherman was some sort of devil or "terrorist". He pointed out that he'd rather see a General destroy huge swathes of property rather than pile up a massive body count. Well said. A fine educator. The curtain needed to be brought down..and Sherman did it.
So, I went to the ceremony to pick up my "achievement in History" award tonight.
I decided since I was warned I'd be called up on stage to wear my cop boots, slacks and a button up shirt. What the hell.
I had no idea whether 200 or 50 or 20 people were receiving the same award.
When I pulled up to the registration desk ( I was told I needed to sign in to be called up on stage..some people choose not to show up for these things ) I saw a History Dept. list with 12 or so names...mine not being among them.
I showed a lady representing the university behind the table my invitation letter; I said "hey, this is awkward..but my name's not on the list".
She flipped open an official program for the night and saw my name in one of two lists of awardee's for my department. She checked the list and shaking her head surmised I wouldn't be called to the stage, but that the department chair would hopefully read my name out loud.
Well, shit. I took a seat in the hall anyway. May as well pick up the certificate..if there was to be one.
I didn't know if there was going to be 50 or 200 people there..or if any parents were going to show. The place wound up being stuffed with several hundred bodies including many parents burdened with video type camera's. The Dean of liberal arts gave a speech..the top liberal arts student gave a speech..and one by one the various department chairs called their honoree's on stage for a big photo and round of applause.
When it came time for the history department awards I felt kind of bitter. Why in the fuck did they drag me down here only to snub me. The dept. chair called out the name of the top undergrad, top grad student, the top handful of honoree's..and then a couple names from my category of "distinguished" students in history with less than perfect GPA's in other areas. I immediately realized as I watched them pose on stage and soak up applause that I had been screwed.
Was it the biggest night of my life? No. But I'll take whatever recognition I can get, thank you. I was supposed to be on that stage smiling..or at least trying to.
When they walked off the stage I got up to leave. I noticed a student with his parents looking like he was very, very upset talking to the dept. chair by the door. The chair was apologizing..and gesturing for the fellow to come out into the lobby with him. I went too. The upshot of it was that somebody screwed up.
My anger melted away. I felt really sorry ( and I'm surprised at myself ) for the poor dumb bastard History scholar who had come there with his family and been prevented from having his moment in the spotlight.
The chair kept apologizing to both of us..I finally said in a diplomatic voice, "well..these things happen"..which is the truth.
The other guy got his certificate...and I got mine. The chair recognized my name.."OH YEAH". This was the man who saved me on registration day..he gave me a short notice last minute email approval to get into the dept senior seminar he's teaching next Fall.
I pumped his hand and headed off into the sunset over the LBJ student center, choosing not to enjoy the sodium laced lavish spread of food and punch provided.
I've had my fair share of time on stage. I don't really need another award all that much.
When I got home I was disgusted though.
Marla did her best to cheer me up. I eventually wound up going to a store and buying a chess book I really wanted as a child like award.
Why was I disgusted? I'm not sure I can put it into words. Maybe because it reminds me that there seems to be a curse on me...certain aspects of my life at least.
The bottom line is, that might be best in the long run. Ol' Stone Cold was right: "TRUST NO ONE". Don't get your heart set on stuff that can be screwed up by humanoids.
I'm sitting here pleasantly enough drinking many hours later. I should've known better. Don't get caught up in crap like award's ceremonies..that's the message. UURRPPP.
Should I attend the "Texas State's brightest stars" ceremony on Tuesday to get another certificate? Sure, why not. I'll be prepared for anything. Maybe I'll warm up in the basement tavern aforehand.
I went with Elvis to see the new Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie this evening. Yeah, yeah...I don't go to see many movies. It was pretty good, not an A+, but a solid B. As expected: if you're a fan of the show you'll love it and want to see it again, if you're not it will seem like an insane and confusing piece of crap.
I needed to get away for awhile. I'm trying to pace myself and not burnout in the final stages of this semester. I already have activities planned for when it's over. We have a mixing session I'm looking forward to ( really missing music ) and of course I can't wait to spend a day hitting thrift stores in an idle manner...and maybe come home and study chess for several hours followed by several blasts of whiskey without worrying about school the next day.
With the end of the semester comes a rash of end of school year awards evidently.
I'm picking up tomorrow as I mentioned before the "achievement in History" certificate.
I got a notification that I'm also going to be awarded a "Texas State brightest Star" award on the 24th ( one of many I'm sure ). Hhmmm. It can't help but look good on my eventual resume.
When I get links to the photos from these ceremonies I'll stick 'em here, not so much because I need to gloat as because I think the pictures will look charming since I'm not exactly a traditional student.
I've already seen signs that my Senior creative writing seminar next Fall could get ugly due to the backlash against the Va. tech killer. In the last few days a few people from across the country in academic settings have been ARRESTED for saying things I've written many times such as the fact that I think I understand ( to a degree ) what motivates people to go out hunting humans.
I'm not going to back off or apologize. I really think I understand this mindset. Just because I do doesn't mean I'm going to do it myself. Hell, I'm too old now to fit the profile. Sorry.
Will they send me to be "counseled" when they perceive I'm not exactly enamored with the beautiful people and what passes as "society"? that I clearly hate some ex-bosses and co-workers? that I refer to the human race as a "bad bad bad bad species"??
We'll see. I hope they don't take back the neat certificate's I'm going to be getting...UURRPP.
Shit, the pressure at school is mounting. No wonder I gloat over good grades..you have to go through hell to earn them.
Let's see..I'm faced with possibly 2 heavy tests and a "presentation" in a 4 hour period on the same day. That's TOO much..to study compentently for. Oddly enough the day before I'm supposed to be awarded the "achievement in History". Here's an award, now we hope yer BRAIN doesn't explode tommorow and you live to see it framed ( the certificate..not my brain..urP).
My Mother had a stroke the other day, I owe about a dozen good people phone calls and emails..so many I'm overwhelmed. I never know the date and forget ingrediants to recipes.
A snapped shoestring could push me into hysteria.
Marla, Joey and I went to see Dale Watson at historic Gruene hall on Friday night. Hell, you have to have some sort of leisure time. About 30 minutes after we got there the joint was hit with what sounded like a hail storm and a power outage. It's one of Texas's oldest most revered dance halls. We had nice seats at a picnic table...and just hung in there and kept drinking and talking. They kept selling beer by flashlight ( that's the way we do things here ).
The lights came back on and Dale and his band turned in a whomping set of songs that eased my mind..well, for a few hours. I'm ready to snap again now. I have been all day.
Theoretically it'll all be over in 2-3 weeks either way.
Don Imus is a fucking idiot.
His show never did appeal to me. As his nemesis Stern has pointed out, he mumbles and is boring. It's no great loss to me as a radio ( or TV ) fan that he won't be around anymore.
That being said, he screwed up big time when he put himself in the position of allowing that scumbag Al Sharpton to judge him. What the hell was he thinking? How could he have held onto a show for song long and make such a fundamental booboo?
Al Sharpton is no more representative of his race than Jim Bakker is of the christian religion. Apologize to the basketball team, sure..apologize to Sharpton ( or lend credibility in any way to his show ) ? What was he smoking?
Of course what Imus said was hardly shocking or offensive when judged alongside the lyrics of corporate record label rappers. The defense thrown up that somehow there are words people of one race can use that others races cannot is hogwash in my book.
If only blacks are permitted to use "ho" word phrases what insulting words will whites be permitted to use exclusively? And how about Asians and Latino's?
It's a tough question, but one things for sure; some self serving con man like Sharpton doesn't deserve to serve on any sort of moral panel judging anybody.
Imus was an idiot for paying lip service to big Al..let his head roll into the damned basket. To hell with him.
OK...I have the balls to say it; I TURN 50 today. There. All you fuckers crying about turing 30 or 62 or whatever, shut the fuck up please.
I'm 50...and I pull beers from the frig 3 or 4 at a time and crack them all open at once knowing I'll get to them. When I turned 30 I felt bad...40 even worse. What a wimp I was. At 50 I've already gone down into the valley, climbed up the other side and up onto the fucking mountain top and had a good look around.
I have more freedom to do whatever the hell I want now. I can act like an old piece of crap and justify it, like a damned teenager at times and quite often enjoy being a middleaged adult plain and simple. Things sucked when I was 18 and younger. It was a confusing time. I don't want to go back there. I didn't have much figured out in my late 20's and early 30's either. Maybe I thought I did. The most confused bastards on earth are the ones who are about 34. This is the age when people flock like wussies to rehab or religion or "settle down". In many cases they either settle down or go down..right to the grave. I'm well past that now.
I still hate all the dickhead bastards I've always hated. The human race fucking stinks. Alway did, still does. What the shit..I can still grease farts and laugh, lay pipe or just relax and enjoy the scenery in a 650 mile drive through "dull" terrain.
Age does not neccessarily bring with it wisdom. Look at your parents and grandparents..that should be sufficient evidence. Wisdom isn't the only goal though; you can be dumb as a post at the age of 76 and quite happy. You can be 19 and wise...although it's getting harder and harder to find anybody who pulls it off.
What the hell...I'm 50 and I can still do anything I could at age 25 except tolerate idiots.
BBRRAAPPPPPPPPPPPPP..here's a 50 year old chocolate bar I've been working on for you..
Well, Rancid Vat can be heard and actually seen on another DVD. It's a history ( sort of ) of Portland DIY style music produced by our good friend and long term recording studio buddy Mike Lastra. On the DVD there's a film Mike has put together focusing on the earliest "wave" ( I hate that word..I'm sure he does too ) of Portland underground bands of the late 70's many of whom appeared on a comp. lp entitled "10-29-79".
We appear on the DVD as an "extra" bonus video. We came along a year or two later than most of the bands featured, it's only natural. The song is "testify" by Beauregarde ( the mighty prowrestler ). It appeared first ( our version that is ) on our "Rulebreakers Rule" E.P. ( the cover of which is shown in the main film and in another extra section) and also the "Burger Belson" l.p.
I've pointed out many times here and in liner notes the fine guitar battle between Pig Champion and Greg Sage we instigated ( well, it was my idea..not "we" ) for this track.
The intro to the video is done by Pig Champion probably not too long before his death. He confused the data ( Greg didn't play on Beauregarde's "testify"..he played on every other song on the album though) although he was only trying to put the track over obviously.
I guess he didn't hate me when he died...or if he did he covered it up.
Lastra filmed a full fledged fucking VIDEO of our version of "Testify". He brought in a buncha camera people..I remember it quite well. Marla isn't to be seen. She was recovering from giving birth to Elvis. We were lip synching the whole damned thing of course. Our drummer is Pat Baum, Steve Wilson the singer, Eric Larsen playing bass ( ?!?) and me sporting a navy Sirjac and a dyed black head of bouncy hair holding down the guitar slot...in theory trying to substantiate visually a legendary guitar battle for the ( Pacific NW ) ages.
There was no way of course I could do that convincingly. Thankfully there's lots of cutaways well produced by Lastra showing lot's of abstract effect wrestling footage. This all took place in 1984.
I know a hell of a lot of the people interviewed for the film. Some of them I haven't seen in 20-25 years. It's a bit strange when you're staring a birthday down like I am to see all these old gray fucks and wonder, am I as old AS THAT?! Pig was filmed a year or so before his death from what I can tell...unfortunately most of the other people interviewed are still alive but seem deader than him.
No, we weren't pals at the time of his death..we weren't anything. I NEVER was anything with most of these Portlander's with their collectivist notion horse shit.
I'm NOT a collectivist..I'm a lone wolf...AWHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
I'd drink a beer with any of them I suppose, but only because I've gotten soft.
I seriously recommend "Northwest passage" for anybody into late 70's punk rock. The Cleavers were one of our big R.V. influences..and their Bob Crane song is included...we blow them away nowdays and have for 15 years, but they were good. The DK's and Wipers footage is top notch too.
I have a new reason for living.....I want to be the old geriatric who passes judgement on bands like these rather than have judgement passed upon me by them when I'm rotting away in a ditch in potters field.
Shit. I'm fucking spent. Too many damned tests ( and a "presentation" ) all at once. I need to catch up on my sleep. I was ready to flop at about 3:30 p.m. today when I got home. No such luck. I didn't get to nap until 6:30 due to having to pick up my car that died last Saturday that has been in the garage. I got about an hour in before Elvis came by to watch a Phillies game that wasn't televised after all.
We yakked and then Marla came home and we discussed important honeymoon travel arrangements for him and his fiance. Her parents are stuck sponsering the wedding; we're paying for "most" of the honeymoon and throwing a post-rehearsal dinner for the wedding participants.
I'm glad he's not a female. Once again, it makes things simpler. I've got to pick up a suit somewhere along the line to wear. I think I'll get a black one. It'd look good if I wore it on stage for some Alcoholics Unanimous shows, wouldn't it?
I got an email from Andi from Born Bavarian today. I had emailed him a couple paragraphs at the beginning of the semester using my simple German phrases. He emailed me back entirely in German...and get this, I understood the jist of his entire message ( although I don't know all of the words ). I didn't use a dictionary yet. I'll do so once I snap out of this braindead funk. I'm learning a 2nd language for fuck's sake..it sneaked up on me.
Any other lager-slurpers out there reading this, email me in Deutsche. I'll try to answer back. It'll be good practice.
Monday is my goddamned birthday. They come faster and faster.
Oh well, fuck it. I've outlived quite a few decent people and assholes alike. I'm in a better state ( knock on wood ) mentally and physically than I have been in several years.
Perhaps I'll have some sort of sage advice or remarks to share between now and then. The truth is in spite of any optimism on my part I find myself during the last couple years losing the ability to drink from a can of beer without slopping it in my lovely goatee.
Balance any egghead-like arrogant or "positive" comments I make in this journal with the sobering factoid that I came home from the University today carrying a wad of something that looks like a Payday bar stuck to my sweat-pants clad fanny.
20 years ago I probably would've caught it at the bus stop or looked approachable enough for one of my fellow 28,000 students to tell me I was packing a sweet nougat dingleberry on the outside of my pants as I roamed the campus.
My birthday state of mind ( it's still a few days off ) will be constructive I hope. I'm aching to spend more time playing music and writing books ( I've sure as hell been loading up on material to write about ) and drinking more recklessly a few dozen times before Fall semester.
The frat guys renting the house across the street are having a party for the 3rd night in a row...good for them. They'll eventualy take a few nights off..and I'll keep sucking them down over on our side of the street every night as dependable as a seasoned, high-tec clock. You don't have to become a milquetoast cube of whitebread goo just because you're middleaged.
Here's to fun. Inspired by Mr. McMahon's bald head and Steve Austin's recent appearances on TV I'm gonna go watch a vhs tape Elvis assembled a few years ago titled "Mr. "McMahon, Austin and beyond". Remember, Austin once declared in an interview with Jim Ross that if you came to his house..IF he let you in his yard you'd see him carrying on drinking beer and being himself. That's pure inspiration I say.
Got another A in a Political Science test I studied only about an hour for. Would've put more into it, but I have so many tests happening at once. I gambled and won.
Tommorow I have a dreaded brace of back to back tests...a small one in German and a significant one in my Westward expansion history course. Most of the test covers a book on Sam Houston. He was one of the wildest S.O.B.'s to ever earn a place amongst our national hero's. A hero of two wars ( he was the General in the field who whipped Santa Anna after the Alamo and Goliad resulting in the Republic of Tx. ) , the only person ever to be Governor of 2 U.S. States, President of a Republic, Congressman from 2 States and drunkard of note. He was slandered by a congressman; instead of being a wimp and crying like today's politicians he took a cane to the guy and beat him mercilessly. He was inducted into the Cherokee nation and given the name "the Raven". The other name they gave him translates into "big drunk".
I hope I do him justice writing about him during the test.
I switched over from studying to drinking at about 2:00 a.m. It's 4:37 now. A man can't expect to do well by grinding away until his dick droops into the dirt. Better to play some Tiger Woods PS2 and get drunk and plan on dreaming about the next days tests.
I also face Wednesday what will undoubtedly be a memorable event in the class I'm not writing about..until it's over.
No fucking wonder I have zero social life. I'm so studious I make myself sick at times.
Oh well. It'll be over soon. A month.
Lot's of casualties at the university lately. You find people sitting on benches looking very disturbed. When you ask them they sometimes reveal that they've just fucked up..BIG TIME. I came across a guy today who was in my opinion the most promising writer in my creative writing class last fall. He had missed a test in a trivial freshman class an hour before and it meant that he won't be graduating this Spring as planned, probably due to his alarm clock not going off. HEAVY. His wasn't the worst case. Lot's of students you're used to seeing daily just disappear.
If I hadn't gotten back into chess a while back and established some solid study habits who knows if I would've lasted this long.
There's a time for aimless, all night boozing and mindless irresponsibilty. It's called Summer. I guess I can't bitch or boast of living some sort of regimented mature life if I'm still up at 5:00 a.m. the night before 2 tests. Well, the first one isn't until 2:00 p.m. I'll do what I can.
This weekend I only have to do some reading and bang out a 5-6 pager on Roman bath's. I should email Duke ( a fine Roman scholar ) for inspiration.