that evening
So it's been a thoroughly weird day, and very pleasant as well. Aside from all the weirdness endemic to a Gothic Funk party, it would still be pretty far up there. Suffer me as I relate the salient points.
It started out slow, just gettin' up at five-thirty like normal, takin' a shower, gettin' bagels to eat for breakfast and lunch. Commute, work, gym, commute, write a poem about chewing on someone's hair. And then, as I come home, after I enter the building and am waiting for the elevator, I notice a dude outside looking like he's about to come in, so I do the polite thing and open the door for him. As he comes in, I notice he's carrying a sort of long leather sling -with a gun sticking out of it. Unmistakably the butt, hammer, and chambers of a revolver-style firearm. And I'm thinking, "Oh man, if I just let a murderer in the building, I am going to be so pissed." But I get in the elevator with him anyway. And I'm thinking, "That looks too long and flat to be a rifle bag, and that's definitely not a rifle butt. What kind of revolver is that long?" Looking at the other end of the sling, I see what looks like a blade, so now I'm thinking "Oh, great, a sword and a gun. Either this guy is crazy or a weapons geek. But, wait.... is the sword connected to the gun? Like some kind of crazy sword-gun?" So finally I ask him, "So, I'm curious, what's that you've got there?"
"Oh, it's a gunblade," he says and pulls it out of the sheath to show me. "I had two of them, so I'm giving this one to a buddy of mine who lives here."
Yeah.
Then I walked to the beach for the party (beach party in walking distance, yay!) bringing with me a cutting board, an onion, a knife, and some special bratwurst mustard I happened to have. It was good times, hanging out, eating grill food, talking about the ocean and music and tatoos. The party moved and became a concert, moved again and became a swimming and stargazing expedition, and moved again to Moody's, which may well be a good resteraunt, but isn't much of a bar. At some point in there I went home and brought everyone some much desired water, and also discussed with Barbara what song would be best to make everyone in the world listen to, a question that had still not been answered by the time of our arrival at Moody's Pub.
Our waitress at this Irish pub also spoke with a thick accent. A thick French accent. Will Deitz was there, and it totally wasn't awkward at all for anyone, no sir. But I predicted I could trick him into buying me a drink, and accidentally tricked him into buying all the drinks. Whoops! But eventually we all went home, which for me involved walking two blocks. Score!
Coming into the building for the third time today, I decided to take the stairs. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a box full of old electronics, including an original NES, sans cables, and three controllers. Score! Though they were lookin' pretty "take them if you want them"-style abandoned, I decided to give it a good amount of time before pulling them back out of the continuum and into my loving arms. After what I considered to be a reasonable interval, I went back out to claim them, and they were still there, waiting patiently for a man like me to come and sweep them away. So I did. Though I don't know if they work, of course, but then again, I don't really care. I don't feel I need to explain this.
Also there was bratwurst at the party. So, yeah, pretty awesome day.
Friday, Feast of Saint James
I really hope the timer hasn't been reset by all of this; a year and a half is a long time. I think I'm in the clear, though, so full steam ahead!
In other news, still looking for a place to live. Boooo!
Thursday, the eve of Saint James's Day
So the website's back. Hosting is a low-priority bill. Thankfully, it is also the tiniest, cutest bill, the one I look at to make myself feel better about the other, bigger, badder bills (loans, grr!). Since I've been teaching the "Elite Cadre" of the Web Design class, we've been designing websites together, and I may be preparing to change the layout of Smallhouse again. Once every couple years isn't too bad, I don't think. You've been warned.
Maybe there will be a section wherein I review every place I've ever eaten gyros. Just maybe.
Thursday
- Things I was at first: a sceptic.
- Counterpoint to the above: These miracles work.
the next Tuesday
"Here you are, a superstar sensation. Rock the building block, outstanding ovation. Rising to your feet, have a seat. Say whatever's popular, peculiar, new, and unique. Complain how life sucks, love sucks, losing a friend a week. Helpless and weak, with low emotional IQ. Throw your hands in the air, you've had it up to there, and now asking yourself why you..."
"I got a lot thicker than my previous attempts. I still don't speak in present tense, try to speak benevolence. It's so easy! I don't expect it to be."
"It's short of amazing, and not what you thought."
Tuesday
...and one block from a drug den? This is turning out extremely sketchy, and I grow ever more irritated by the leaseholder. Can't even get me a key when I'm trying to move in, seriously? Thankfully, "Killa B" is cool with the prospect of me and my hallway full of stuff sticking around a few extra days. Not sure how closely that relates to my plans for cleaning.
My first day of (planned) lecturing is tomorrow, and I'm excited. Also I'm making examples, beautiful examples, which I'm sure Ruthie will want to tear to shreds either just before or just after class. And all my stuff is packed, so what else I got to do?
Oh, right, the cleaning.
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
It makes me nervous when prophets predict the future; I'd prefer that they stick to the present. But I guess that if one could pick what he preaches, he wouldn't be much of a prophet, would he?
Though, as ever, I'm talking about a lot of things at once, I'm prompted by Stay Positive, which came out (digitally, anyway) this past month. I'd been theorizing that Lifter Puller songs were mostly about trying to score drugs, and Hold Steady songs were mostly about the stuff that happens as a result of scoring drugs. Stay Positive appears, at second listen, to be mostly about things that can happen to students and growing old. On first listen, it kind of sounded like all the songs from the first three albums that I just wasn't that into. I'm kind of outraged that the one track I'd been looking forward to ever since seeing them with Art Brut on Halloween, "Ask Her for Some Adderall", got knocked off the album. Word is that it'll be one of the bonus tracks when the physical CD drops next month, but still. Laaaame.
So, I'm not going to be homeless yet, apparently, which I guess I'm relieved about; I spent four hours yesterday czeching out Edgewater and the actual apartment I'll be subletting. One block from a pizza parlor, one block from an Episcopal church, three blocks from a beach and the lakeshore bike path, four blocks from a bar I've been meaning to investigate, five blocks from a library, and within walking distance of Devon Market, home to what may very well be the greatest purchasable baked good on this earth. If it weren't so far away from everything else, I'd seriously consider trying to find a permanent place up there. But it is, and I'm going to spring for a monthly bus pass and get up at five thirty every single day. FUN.
Time to finnish packing. FUN.
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