Beginning to move

Moving sucks.

Only took two loads over to the new place on Sunday. Two kids watched me unload for a little, one asked the other, "Who's that?" "Some white boy moving in." (They were black, maybe 8 or 9). Car parked in front of mine had some gang graffiti carved into the driver door. Later, through my kitchen window, I saw to kids pull another kid off his bike, said some words, then all 3 walked off together. As I drove around the corner to go home, three detectives were arresting some one.

Welcome to the neighborhood. Did I make the biggest mistake???

Okay, off to pack more.

One reason I didn't get straight A's

Check out #5.

Probably due to Halloween, Bar saturation, and Meigs County Gold.

CNN.com - Albany tops party school list, again - Aug 16, 2004

Happy (?) Thanksgiving!

I'll Manifest Destiny you for that Wishbone, punk!

dong resin's joint >> Predictable yet necessary >> November 25, 2004

The Walkmen video makes my day

Yay.

This has probably been out forever, but for those of us without MTV/VH1/Much Music etc. seeing this today made me happy. Video for "Little House of Savage." (via Real.com)

Now I want to play Capture the Flag in a foggy forest tonight with all my old chums.

I did this too

I ran across this article about the tunnels of New York. And it reminded me of the "Tunneling" we did at school my last quarter. I had to retake a History of Journalism class the summer quarter of 1994 because I skipped too many classes or dropped the class the first time or something (don't remember). Anyway, that last summer quarter, I shared an apartment/house with some British students who were slumming about before a cross-country Holiday; their last American Hurrah before returning home to London, England and/or University. (Hi Jane, Judy and Paul!)

Anyway, after many drunken sweaty summer nights as I only had one class, and they had none(?), we made a discovery into the Underbelly of the University. There's not much to do in Athens during the summer, but hit the bars (Tony's, O'Hooleys, The Union; or, maybe Casa Nueva, The Pub, The C.I. or The Cat's Eye). As it turned out, some of their British cohorts lived in Bryan Hall. In the basement "rec. room," through a easily-pick-the-lock-door in the kitchen (which I don't think anyone ever used as the ping-pong table was covered in dust as well as the fridge) one could access the utility tunnel network under the entire University.

I think our longest "tunneling run" let us out somewhere on South Green by either the tennis courts or maybe on Morton Hill. (I apologize: booze and years don't help with accurate reporting)

Here's the article that inspired this post/memory:
The Village Voice: Features: Subterranean Homesick Blues by Amy Braunschweiger

(maybe sometime I'll post about "Roofing" in Athens.)

The Hometown Hero

Letterman's just starting and look who one of the guests are: Pittsburgh Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger. He's from my hometown, put us right on the map and representing well as far as I hear; he's quite the pigskin thrower, no? His parents go to my parent's church....oooh, six degrees of separation?

I hope he comes across well tonight, even though he went to a loser University. hee hee.

I'll have one of each, thanks.

I love my Chuck All-Stars. I don't give a crap if these guys report that Chuck's aren't hip/hep anymore, punks. I feel good in these babies. I actually view people more positively more quickly if I see they are wearing Converse, especially Black Classic All-stars High Tops.

I'm a shallow, naughty, wanna-be punk rocker... "Touch me, I'm sick." (really, with no fashion sense at all)

ConverseGallery.com: cool short films inspired by cool shoes.

Still Alive and on the move

Literally.

Nothing is signed on paper, but it looks as though I am leaving my safe haven of Andersonville and moving into the Wilds of Roger's Park. I am touch worried about this, but I was given an offer I couldn't refuse: a one-bedroom for $200 or so less than the going rate in the rest of the Complex. Apparently, my new landlord wants me the hell out of this apartment so he can begin tearing it down. This discount is cool (still more than I can afford...but), but the speed at which this is all happening has taken my breath away a little. I think he wants me out, ideally, by December First.

That's not going to happen. But I'll try.

Parking is going to totally suck up there. The neighborhood is totally sketchy compared to here. But I'll have more than one room, more windows, possible nice neighbors, closer to my friends, and a tiny bit shorter commute to work. This could turn out well. Next stop: New Job!

Due to the holidays and my work schedule, I have to skip two weeks of meetings with my Primary. Hopefully, I'll meet with them both on December 9th. Hopefully, my new address won't disqualify me for this location; I don't want to start over at another office. Nicely, though, I think the meds are starting to work. I've only had maybe two anxiety attacks in the past couple of weeks, and don't think about off-ing myself all the time. Whoo-hoo!

Off to bed, packing begins!

Like a breath of fresh air

After a long day at work, The Walkmen play on Letterman. The best!

I can hardly contain myself

Hot chicks, booze, bawls-out rawk and roll. Too. Much. Fun.

AC/DShe - the first ever ALL GIRL AC/DC TRIBUTE!!! Don't forget it!

We lost the next 4 years by a field goal

Hunter S. Thompson, briefly, on The Presidential Race and Football.

ESPN.com: Page 2 - The pain of losing

Coach! Call a Challenge.

Exposed!

Found out! Discovered!

My Cube Has Three Sides is no longer anonymous. Due to my naiviety of the ways and means of links and such, people I know now know this place. I am not sure how I completely feel about this. My first reaction (common pattern my whole life) was one of "flight." Delete the blog, smash The Cube, hide. But then I realized a part of me probably wanted to get "caught." So, here I am: caught. Now what?

The people who are in on the discovery have been great: nice, reassuring, concerned, loving. It's good to feel you've got Back-up. I regret that I've taken things/people for granted and am going to try and fix that. Maybe this is a beginning. I need to fight my fear of committed relationships. And I don't mean in the dating sense, more like allowing myself to trust my friends to be friends. My Primary and I, through a couple of discussions, came to a possible conclusion that some of my misery is from projecting my bad/judgmental/self-criticizing/etc thoughts onto people before they are even given a chance to come up with thoughts on their own. I don't think that's described too well, but you get the jist of the matter.

So, in conclusion, My Cube will continue to show at least Three Sides in the future, but differently. Differently how? Not sure. Wait and see.

(after the shock of being discovered and my friends showing up in my Sitemeter listings, the next person to hit here came about from a Google search words of Salma Heyak Naked Breasts. Awesome. And I mean both that they showed up here and the thought of Salma Heyak's Naked Breasts=Awesome!)

Music to my ears (sort of)

You supply the words, it'll bring the singers.

Let them sing it for you

"I've got a bad feeling about this, kid"

Work went by pretty fast today. Lots of people doing the shopping thing. Apparently, November 7th is "let's talk a long time and finally buy some rugs" day. This rug is for my kitchen, this is for under my coffee table. Will this red clash with this rug? This is in the foyer.

I am amazed they don't smell my apathy.

Actually, my mood is bottoming out. I can barely type this. Tired. Chest tight. I want to, but am unable to, cry.

The past two days at work, I've had a consistent bad feeling, like my 6th sense knows something bad is coming. Lurking on the horizon. I've made a couple of little mistakes at work, I think. A cash return a little past the 90 day mark. Endorsing the wrong side of a gift certificate. Little things that really probably wouldn't matter in any other job, company, or store; but, when you think your boss is trying to get you to leave, weigh on you heavier than the fucking world.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, kid," Han Solo would say, and the Falcon would get sucked into a Death Star or the floor would drop or the door would open and two dozen Storm Troopers would bust in lasers blazing. But their Movie Heroes, they always get out alive, on top. I'm a weak mortal man. I could end up in a shelter, the gutter, an asylum. There is no one to shout "Cut, print," then saunter off to a trailer full of champagne and steak and friends.

This feels like the Beginning of The End. The Neverending End?

I doubled my meds yesterday, but feel twice as bad today. (sounds like a Suicidal Tendencies album name, no?)

Surprise, surprise!

As you can tell from the time of this current post and the last one, I wussed out on going to the Helmet show at the Empty Bottle tonight. Why? Because I am beat tired for some unknown reason, my mood shifted pretty low yesterday and today, I'm broke, and, hmm, let's see, oh yeah: because I am a scaredy, stupid, wussie, piece of crap!

Man, I am so sick of myself. And I can't picture it getting better anytime soon. An eternity of self-hatred and loathing, self-disappointment, missed opportunities, financial near-ruin.

I'm one of these. Only not smart, precocious and in New York (but lonely!). I read the article just today before work and a lot of it seemed pretty accurate to me/for me. But it may just be my mind reaching out for a scapegoat or sorts.

Okay. Off to bed before I talk myself into tears. My meds double, starting tomorrow.

My first Saturday at work

Well, so, that's working on a Saturday. Huh, whatever.

You see, at work there is this whole friendly competitive thing about which weekend day is cooler, busier, etc.
"Sunday people are cool."
"No way, man, Saturday people are cooler." (um, anyway, had to be there.)

So, today was my first Saturday, and I expected all crazy, busy, pulling hair out long lines lotsa sales type of day that "those Saturday people" keep talking about: "yeah, it's crazy, we work hard and fast." Um, no it resembled a slightly busy Sunday. Possibly a slow day today? Or my Saturday crew sources are a bunch of wimps?

At least the day went by sort of quickly. And apparently the quantity of attractive females shopping is higher on Saturdays; that was a plus. Oooh, another plus: I get to go back tomorrow!!! Oh yeah, baby. Good times.

(yes, I am bored with my job, and, no, I'm not impressed with this post either.)

Different Day, Same Shite

I have to work on a Saturday. I never work on Saturdays. The F-boss works on Saturdays. I am not looking forward to this.

And then I work on Sunday: my first "double."

I'm a dead-broke whore; I need the money.

"To die unsung would really bring you down"

Holy Flashback!
I'm clicking around, checking out who's playing town this weekend, and Helmet is playing the Empty Bottle this Saturday! Sweet.

I haven't thought about these guys for years. I used to borrow their first two CDs from my housemate Andy R. all the time back at school. We'd throw them in and pound big-gulp sized cups of coffee and bounce around the room, or I'd suck down Rolling Rocks and then head out for the night to Tony's or O'Hooley's. I think we were living on off-campus on First Street at the time--me, Andy R. and Andy D.

It'd be great to hear Unsung live.

Might have to try to make this night.

November 2, 2004: Black Tuesday :-(

Time to up the Anti-depressants! DAMN! This is NOT what I wanted to see first thing in the morning; or ever, really.

A sad and rainy day, alcohol consumption will rise, emigration skyrockets, more global hatred directed to U.S., more lay-offs, higher poverty levels, higher illiteracy rates, four more years of Republican finger-up-the-ass self-serving double-speak, Texas forced out of Republic.

Pray for a coup. Let the Revolution Begin!

(okay, I have to go cry for a little bit now, then see my shrink)

I (might have) Voted

Sadly, I mailed in my Rock the Vote registration thingy in late, so I needed to do one of them Provisional Votes thingies.

This morning I actually got up nearly two hours early (*groan*). I wanted to make sure I had enough time allowed for finding Polling Place, parking, Provisional weirdness, punch out the vote and still make it to work by 10:00 a.m. Drank some coffee, showered, clothed for work, and realized an anxiety attack was slowly creeping up on me. Damn! I didn't have time for this shit now!

So I popped a Clonazepam, a whole one, and jumped for the car.

"we were just outside of Barstow, when...": I got to the Polling place (4950 North Ashland Ave.), some (possible) retirement center/home/community center, don't know, not sure, I was on the run now, parked right on the corner, slipped across the wet sidewalk, through the door, past the fountain/pond/(goldfish?), down a hall, another hall, into a room, go through motions of looking up my name in the books, shit! am I precinct 30 or 32?!?!?!? 30, cool. Name not in book, ask for Provisional Vote, fill out paper work, note people in charge here don't really seem completely on top of things here, hand in forms, keep pink copy, grab ballot/chad filled paper, jump in line.

Waitwaitwaitchewfingernailscheckoutcutewomaninballcapwaitwait: my turn!

Go to cubicle, line up holes with red knobs, and punch Kerry, Obama, and.... then the Clonazepam kicks in and: Everything. Slows. Down.

Breeeeaaath. Vote. Hand in card. "so I need to call someone within 48 hours? Cool."

Head off to work: Clonazepam+Rainy Grey Day+These Cocteau Twins Albums = a lovely drive to work.

Tomorrow, I need to figure out who to call so my first-time-since-1988-vote freaking counts and more time with my shrink (yippiee)

J-E-T-S, Jets Jets Jets!

Yay.

Monday brought me much pleasure in not only being able to watch a New York Jets game, but to also see them stomp the terra and smoosh Miami.

New York Jets=41
Miami Dolphins=14

Feel free to buy me Jets paraphanelia!