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Lay Your Hands On Me
So, tried going to see Psycho out at Soldier Field. It was all quite the bust. Aside from the fact that if you didn't sit on the 50 yard line, you heard only echo, you were so far away from the scoreboard screens it became such a weird surreal experience.
Picked up a nice black Dickies long sleeve at Alley. Bought more movies. Got real sick eating too much junk food.
It was quite the day.
It's A Nice Day For A Killing
CJ in the muthafuckin' HIZZOUSE. That's right. CJ is visiting from San Francisco, and we're kickin' it ol' skool. WORD.
Okay. Enough of that.
Alone Again Naturally - Journal Entry
There was something I didn’t quite understand in all of this. Where was I fitting in? I looked around, and people seemed normal. Happy even. And here I was, unable to find any emotion other then contempt. And when it wasn’t contempt it was apathy. But, somehow, I was still selected to be part of this. Sure, I called the number. It offered easy money. And I need easy money. Who doesn’t? It makes the world go around.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming.” I was far enough back in the large
meeting room that I couldn’t make out the person talking. I could only hear him. Coughing and murmuring soon subsided into the quiet hum of flourescent lights and the buzz of the microphone.
This place was huge. Disturbingly so. They had rented out a convention center, and coming down from the top of the room was what was probably the most expensive damn chandelier I’ve ever seen. The child in me wanted to find a nice rock and see how quickly it could tear through that glass, and the havoc it would cause.
The forty-five year old in me sat there quietly.
The walls were painted bone. Or at least a color that best represents bone. Maybe it’s supposed to be calming. People were packed around the plain round tables in groups of twelve. I don’t know how we were sitting this close, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. If you so much as tried reaching for your water, you were also more than likely to make a new friend.
“Now I know most of you are probably wondering to yourself, how did I get here? And I’m here to tell you, that calling a phone number you saw on the side of the road will soon be the best idea you ever had.”
More murmuring. Vagueness surrounded by pretty lies. We were going to end up with a time share.
“What the fuck d’ya tink it is?” a smaller man sitting next to me asked. The lighting
glared off his bald scalp. I couldn’t place the accent.
“I’m saying time share.” I responded.
“Fuckin’ businessmen wit’ tier grand ideas.” He turned away from me....
That Duck Has Moxy
So, it was HB's last day at work today. She's one of the few people that became my friend from work. One of the lucky four. There were hugs and congratulations. And in silent memoriam, I set the library on fire.
Not really.
Work on red.pen.design continues. My web and illustration stuff is up now. I'm tired. I also spent eight hours making a video game in Director. It may not be very good, but at least it's done.
Sleep now.
A New Day Is Mourning
Friends, Peers Mourn Elliott Smith
As JC pointed out, it's real weird reading about Wayne Coyne talking about how sad Elliott Smith had become. It's even weirder to imagine Elliott Smith in the audience of Beck/Flaming Lips show.
I went irate today at work. And I feel bad that most of my thoughts now revolve around my health, or hating work, but you know, other than that, I have school. So, this is what I write about.
But I went irate at work today. After that whole "wheel chair" incident yesterday, I found out that my boss is replacing AH on Wednesday nights. My boss caused this problem in the first place. How am I suppose to handle being stuck with her alone for four hours.
So I sent a very angry letter to AH telling her that she (well THEY) needed to do something about the schedule because I wasn't going to work with the person who caused my MS to flare up in the first place. I will never get better. I can guarantee it. They need to change my schedule, or find a new staff member, because I will quit.
Or go on medical. It's apparently the hip thing to do. And I could use the time off.
Time Keeps On Turning
I do believe I'm going insane.
I Killed A Southern Belle
For those of you just tuning in, I have Multiple Sclerosis.
Multiple meaning numerous, or bountiful.
Sclerosis, meaning annoying lesions on my nervous system.
I joke about it. It's either that or cry about it. Sometimes that
I was first diagnosed two years ago. My hand went numb. It sucked. And at first it was misdiagnosed. My senile doctor thought it was merely a pinched nerve. Until it spread. Then they were pretty sure it wasn't a pinched nerve.
Multiple Sclerosis has no cure. It is equivalent to an arthritis. It will get worse, and worse, and worse, until I die. Unless they find a cure, but, really, it's not like there's been crazy medical breakthroughs the last few years.
It can pop up in any one of my body parts, as everything has nerves. Balance. Bowels. Legs. Sight. Vision. It could go at any moment.
I know this. Stress makes it worse. I also know this. They say that within 15 years, I will most likely need assistance walking. This may be something as simple as a cane, or something as intricate as a small group of people to carry me everywhere.
So, that being said, if my boss has the audacity, and near-sightedness to ask me if I need a wheelchair EVERY again, I'm fucking breaking her.
My eye is fucked up. My balance is sub-par. But you see, my legs still work. How do you go from asking someone how they're doing to asking if they need a wheelchair. It's like when I mentioned it to my other friend and she asked if I was going to learn braille. NO! Because I'm not FUCKING BLIND!
Do people just not get it? Am I not explaining myself? My balance is off. This will happen. I feel bad that people feel sorry for me. I don't want pity. I want my balance back. I'm not talking about it to get pity. Much like AH talks about being pregnant the majority of the time, it's because this is a major thing, and talking makes it better.
But, seriously, ask me if I need a wheelchair, and there will be pain.
Just Somebody That I Use To Know
Songwriter Elliott Smith Dead at 34
Right after he made himself famous with his song from Good Will Hunting, Elliott came to the Empty Bottle in Chicago. JC and AC (his wife now, but girlfriend at the time) went up there. We had to purchase tickets online, and we almost didn't make it, but we were lucky enough to get the tickets.
JC and I had been listening nonstop to Elliott, scouring everywhere we could look for more music. And this was the height of where we wanted to be at the time. We were going to see Elliott Smith at a small venue, and oh, by the way, you're also in front. So I got to see Elliott Smith in a small acoustic performance, while I stood 5 feet away from him.
He was quiet and friendly, and you were just in awe of the chords he was pulling off during some of the songs. He never once played his "hit." But for two hours, we stood there and were amazed at his talent.
But it was after the show that really lets me carry the memory with me. We decided to stick around to see if we could meet him. So, for the next hour, the three of us sat on one of the most run down couches I've ever had the (dis?)pleasure of sitting on.
The door opened, and he came out. Quiet and small. We rushed him. I'm sure he thought we were waiting to mug him. But we just asked if we could shake his hand and told him how amazing we thought he was. In a near whisper he just said, "Thank you" shook our hands and wandered off.
It probably barely registered to him, but it was a landmark situation for us.
I saw him one other time, at the Metro. I can't remember when it was, but it was right as Quasi started getting huge, because they opened for him. I think it was around the time of X/O and the place was packed. The show was still amazing, but not quite amazing as the first time we saw him.
Plus, that show has the distinct memories of the guy who was doing some weird ass wiggle for every song, giving MF nightmares as she ended up getting his ass wiggled on her for most of the show. Not to mention the other people we were with (Again JC) trying to convince me to hit on MF.
Man. Those were good times.
St. Ide's Heaven
Goddamit.
Singer-songwriter ELLIOTT SMITH has died - with suicide the suspected cause.
Fan websites and various radio stations claim that the singer passed away yesterday (October 21) at the age of 34.
MTV news reports that his body was discovered by a friend in his Los Angeles apartment. He had a single knife wound to the body.
Smith was then taken to Los Angeles County University of Southern California Medical Center at approximately 12.18pm yesterday (October 21), where he was pronounced dead an hour later.
Born in 1969, Smith loved music from an early age. He released five albums, the most critically acclaimed in the mid-90s, titled ’Either/Or’ and ’XO’.
His most mainstream success however came when his song ’Miss Misery’ from the film Good Will Hunting’ was nominated for an Academy Award in 1997.
At the time of his death Smith was working on a new album, which had a working title of ’From A Basement On The Hill’, which was set for completion later this year.
A UK spokesperson for the singer is currently unable to confirm the reports. This story will be updated as more details emerge.
A Silent Scream Of Mourning And Fear
In honor of Halloween, my most favorite of holidays, I give you this:
A Silent Scream Of Mourning And Fear
I have to warn you, it's gross, and wrong, and got me more than a few dirty looks for a while at work. But if a pregnant lady gives you this as the first story that she remembers the most, you go with it.
The Slow Pace Is The Best Pace
Well, my anger of all things Flash and multimedia in general has led me to create an HTML based resume and portfolio instead.
I like it. It's simple. That's what may end up being my downfall though in the world of graphic design. I don't like flashy. I hate web pages that feature Flash. I want the information and I want to get out. My HTML is clean and simple. Very unlike the rest of the world.
The new design is here (along with a picture of me): red.pen.artists.
I'm currently watching Raiders of the Lost Ark and remembering how much of a crush I have on Karen Allen.
I Have No Ears To Hold Me Down
I can't sleep.
Why can't I sleep?
Damn.
Entering my third week of constant exhaustion, headaches and double vision, I've begun to get depressed that I have to rely on other people for things. I should, by all rights, enjoy not having to work. However, I feel bad that AH has to do my work for me.
And if I have to explain that stress does this to me one more time to one of my goofy coworkers, I will scream. "Why are you stressed?" They ask. And they look at me dumbfounded when I say it's because I'm unhappy in my job. Is that such a hard thing to understand?
Maybe I haven't gotten to the age yet where I've decided I need to settle for what I have, because I know I deserve better. It may bite me in the ass, but at least I'm trying, and not letting people walk all over me because "this is as good as it gets."
They've Got A Ticket To Ride.
Carnivale! was amazing.
Completely amazing.
It paid off with the whole Babylon thing, and only added to the large level of creepiness that already existed. And I'm REAL excited to see the rest of the episodes now.
And there was A LOT of plot and story too. Almost to the point where I was uncomfortable with the amount we learned. I was getting use to the slow pace.
But wow.
Continue The Theme
Mike must buy:
Anubis Plush
Four Tablets Daily
It's lazy Sunday. I'm happy. I've been running around crazy since Thursday. The last two nights I wasn't asleep until 3 AM. What do I think I am? 24? Jeebus. Although, it was nice to not be sitting at home not hanging out with people. We've all become so busy that I get real bored and lonely come Friday night when I use to be out all the time, and now I'm at home watching a movie by myself.
If only I enjoyed vacuous drinking at bars, and holding superficial conversations with people in the hopes of getting laid.
Oh well.
Carnivale is on tonight, and while the pacing is still slow, I'm really digging it. And any episode based around carnie justice has to be good.
The Sun Shines On The Darkest Of Lives
Bubba Ho Tep: *****
It has the feeling of an X-Files episode, and the silliness of...well, the idea that Elvis Presley and JFK have to fight an evil soul sucking mummy while being trapped in a retirement home.
Since I don't know if you've even heard anything about it, Bubba Ho Tep is about based on the idea that Elvis got tired of the spotlight and traded lives with an Elvis impersonator named Sebastian Haff. It was Sebastian that died of the OD years ago, while Elvis lived on as an Elvis impersonator, until he broke his hip, and ended up in a rest home down in Texas. Also in the rest home is a black man who may or may not be John F. Kennedy. You see, as he tells us, the FBI dyed his body, and removed a part of his brain while replacing it with a bag of sand. He has the scar to prove it.
Well, the people in the rest home start dying. At first JFK is convinced that it's Lyndon Johnson who has sent an assassin to finish the job. Even after Elvis tells him Johnson is dead, JFK says, "You think that will stop him?"
But it turns out that it's a mummy that was stolen from a tour years ago, who was cursed to live forever, trapped in his sarcophagus. Only problem is, he escaped. And now, clad in a cowboy hat and boots, he preys on the old folks in the home by removing their souls through a very uncomfortable orifice.
Elvis is also miserable and full of regret. He hates most of what he's done. He has a sore on his most valued of body bits. He hates that women don't think of him sexually any more. And for the most part he lays in bed.
But then the scarabs attack, and JFK and Elvis are the only two who realize what's really going on. And they're going to stop it.
The funny thing is, after the original silliness of the idea, you fully accept the fact that you're watching JFK and Elvis try taking out a mummy. It doesn't detract from the film, because it's played straight. The story is silly, and more of a "comedy horror" than a straight horror movie, but it all works. There's a couple scenes that could have ended earlier, but it all works.
Especially the graffiti that the mummy leaves in the bathroom.
Bruce Campbell and Ossie Davis are great in the main characters. The mummy is creepy enough to be a real threat. The scarab beetles are straight up silly. It was real fun.
Of course, it's playing in one theater in Chicago, so the chance of you or most people seeing it is slim to none. Which is a shame.
Oh, and any movie whose sequel is going to be called "Bubba Nosferatu: Revenge Of The She-Vampires" is worth admission alone.
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