rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

so today, I go to my 9 am. I swear to god, I went. and the professor starts relating this incredibly long story about when he was doing an ethnographic study for his master’s in southern Mexico in a Zapotec village. it’s really interesting, too.

the story is roughly about how he accidentally gets kind of sort of caught up in local politics, and he was almost killed because of it.
it’s as follows, stay with me now: after a month or two, he was considered a member of their community, so he was put on a committee that was to plan for a festival/fiesta held for the village’s patron saint. and a day or two before, this local politician, who was a real wheeler dealer, he asks the professor to take a day’s walk with him to the another village. he was going to pick up school children who were going to perform in a choir or a play or some shit like that, for the fiesta. the guy just didn’t feel like walking that whole way by himself, so he invited the professor along. he was leaving real, real early in the morning.
he accepts, but the professor forgot that he can’t go. he’s got shit to do for the fiesta committee. so he backs out last minute.
that night, he’s in his room, and he sees the light on in the next hut over. it’s the grandmother of the family he lives with, and she’s usually not up this late. so he looks in through her open door, and the village inspector/magistrate is in there. he’s the only guy in the village with a gun. he’s drunk, and he’s got the gun out, and he’s waving it around like an asshole.
so the professor thinks that the inspector might accidentally shoot somebody, so he goes in there and strikes up a conversation, hopes to get the guy to put the gun away.
the inspector says he’ll put the gun away, as long as the professor helps him get back to his office, where he sleeps. he’s drunk, he’s asking for help. so the professor obliges.
once they get inside, the inspector seems to sober up immediately. he’s all like, “come inside and have a drink, professor.” and the professor’s trying to politely decline, cause he’s got to be up early in the morning, but the guy insists, just one, and then he can go home.
so they do a shot.
then the professor’s like, “I got to roll out, homey.” only he said it in spanish, and he probably didn’t call him anything like homey, but you get the idea.
and the inspector, who’s a big fucking burly man, says, “come on, G, just throw another motherfucker back with me.”
and the professor’s all like, “I have to get up early, I have to be going,” etc.
and the inspector’s like, you can sleep here tonight, and he pats his bed.

(okay, right here, I was thinking rape. which I thought would make for an interesting story to tell about ninety undergrads at 9:30 in the AM. I was trying to imagine my diminuitive professor wrapped in the arms of a huge mexican dude with a gun.)

the professor’s like, “no, I’m out.”
the inspector’s like, “no, you’re staying.” and he pulls his nine. the professor’s at the door by this time, and the inspector comes up and puts it to his head. he takes the gun, runs it under his nose, along his face, and he goes “you’re staying.”
some tense moments follow, and the professor’s getting really fucking nervous, and he finally says, “No. I’m leaving. goodnight, inspector.” he walks out the door, and he gets like twenty feet when the inspector slams his door hard, and the professor fucking jumps cause he thinks its a gunshot. but it wasn’t. wooof.
blah blah, blah, some more exposition, and then a morning or two later, all these people come streaming into the village, like there’s been some sort of trouble.
turns out that the politician, who went to pick up the schoolchildren, never showed up. so they went looking for him, and they found his ass hacked to death in an abandoned hut by the side of the path: machete style.
the professor was like, “oh, snap!“
the village goes apeshit, all sorts of official and governmental and local investigations are launched. people are talking about “going to war” with whatever village is responsible (which I guess was an option). rumors are flying everywhere. the professor is there with the intent to record conversations and discussion, so this is good. but even this becomes too much and too redundant, so he decides to take a week or two and travel to the other villages, see what the good word is out there.
after a few different stops, he rolls into this really distant village. it’s still within the village network that his village is a part of, but it’s the most secluded and least accessible. the village president (they have local elections to elect such titles) shows up, and he’s like “what’s the good fuckin’ word, homey?” cause they all know who the only white guy within two hundred miles is, and he invites him into his office for a drink.
so they’re chatting, the professor, the president, and the professor’s interpreter who speaks zapotec. they’re talking about the murder, the case, etcetera, when the president comes right out and says, “we know who killed him. we’re letting him hide in the village.”
so the professor and the interpreter look at each other and are thinking, “what the fuck? fuck!” they don’t want to know that. that doesn’t bode well for them, because the president would only tell them that if it were a threat of some kind. the president knows that the professor is staying with a family that were relatives of the politician back in the far village, and he and his interpreter both represent that village. so that telling them that, that’s just some sort of eery, veiled threat.
and then the president’s like, “hey, come on back to my hut for a drink.”
so now the professor gets up, and he’s like, “I’m out!” and he and his interpreter walk out the door. outside the door, the professor said, are thirty men, just standing in a semi circle. he’s like, “they weren’t waiting to come inside to drink.” he’s freaking the fuck out. cause he doesn’t know what they want, what’s the deal… only that they all showed up without making a sound, and none of them are talking, just looking right at him and his interpreter, who’s promptly died of fright.
and then…

I’m on the edge of my seat, seriously. I really want to know what happens next. but right then, the most urgent dump I’ve ever had comes a knockin’ at the door of my colon, and I have got to attend to some bizness.
it was the goddamned jalopenos I had on my turkey sandwich last night. I knew that shit would come back to haunt me!

I come back from the bathroom, and the professor is like, “and that, students, is why I have six cigarette burns on my back, a limp, a tattoo of an AK-47 on my forearm, and I now breed Jack Russell Terriers.” I’m like, “what the holy fuck???? what did I miss????”

god damned jalapenos. they do it to me every time.

“sleepaway camp,” when looked at as a whole, sucks.

however.

most would agree that thanks to about thirty seconds at the end of the film, “sleepaway camp” goes from “it blows” to “it sucks.” which is a marked improvement.

you really have to see it to believe it. I’m not kidding. it’s your average shitty horror film, complete with bad acting and absolutely unintentionally hysterical death scenes, that for a brief moment at its tail end climax, shines. it leaves the viewer (who was previously only half awake and could be roused from their stupor only to laugh at scenes like the cook’s death via boiling water) saying shit like, “what the fuck?” and “holy fucking shit! hit rewind, dude!”

so I urge you. go watch “sleepaway camp.” whatever you’re doing right now can wait.

I’m like a sniper rhymes’ll strike ya when I’m rockin
mad chicks be jockin’ when the G Starr’s talking
And that’s because my word is bond
I get much fan mail and I always respond
So tell your hon to write me too
make sure she puts attention Mr. Guru
Brothers know the flow is unique
I got 100 wild styles in my black valise
MC’s wanna be me so they keep askin
for me to teach ‘em methods both slow and fast
And others wanna act as if they’re better
but they only got one style which ain’t all that clever
I’m cooler than wind, harder than cold steel
I get the ladies with more than just sex appeal
A mystic psychic scanning all your thoughts
I’ll touch your soul and make your brain feel caught
When my rapture traps ya and makes you mine
You’ll submit to the gift and to the lyrical lines
So suckers realize that the size is too large
when I come through I’m pullin’ whole crews cards
I be wreckin’ correct and on the gangster tip
MC’s who front: Imma’ gonna burst your shit

I wonder do you love it enough
I’m steppin’ rugged and tough, never to front or to bluff
I got the fresh cut baldy, the brothers call me
Guru the man yes with all the
J-A-Z-Z-Y type essence, street type lessons manifesting
the one who make the fly ladies feel pleasant
Never forgettin’ that to myself I’m true
do what you want to but watch yourself though “duke”
I don’t wanna hear all of that loud mouthing
try to pull yours out when nothing comes out
Then you’ll see why you can’t compete with me
the notorious Guru of the Gang you see
Starr stands for power like I said before
I’m like the doctors cure slicker than Roger Moore
I slide up to a crab MC like this
tap ‘em in the head with my mic like this
I’ll be revealing that you’re weak to the world if you wish
And I insist that if you persist
then you get creamed, cuz Imma’ get real steamed
so don’t you try to flex and try to look all mean
Heyo check it that’s dead that’s it
cuz all you phony ass rappers Imma’ bust your shit

Now when you see me on the set you know I may unleash
a lyric like a mad dog barking through the speaker
Step off unless you wanna get torn upy
our raps worn out burned out fucked up
You locked up or maybe you locked out
cuz at the battle last time you snuck out
But now I’m rolling over you full blast
I’m here to let you know no longer will the bull last
MC’s telling lies and poppin’ all those myths
Keep on fakin’ moves and Imma’…

you ever have a crush? who gets mad at you because you never call her anymore, and doesn’t get that you don’t call her to hang out because you’re trying to kill the crush? and you’d tell her that, but that would just be a horrible thing to say to someone; that even though she really cares for you and misses you, you can’t be that friend to her? because you know in the back of your mind that you’re not sure why you hang out with her – that you really do like her, she is your friend, but you’ve got that horrible feeling that you’re trying to win her in some way? and that eats you up, makes you feel like scum, an asshole?

ever have feelings for someone that you’d give away if you could? so that you could just be her friend? and you’d just get over yourself and move on, but you fucking can’t, because every time she calls on the phone you can feel your heart beating harder? and that’s why you never call, because of exactly that feeling, because you know it’s only code for “just cause you feel it, it doesn’t mean it’s there,” that Radiohead lyric?

anyone ever have those feelings? have a crush like that? if yeah, then I hear you, cause I’ve been there too.

ps- I swear to fuck I’ll never delete this. sorry to spoil the mood of the blog.

edit ps- and you know it’s all in your head, and no matter how hard you try you can’t get over it? so you know how fucking stupid you must look and how dumb everyone else must think you are? yeah, I hear you. I’ve been there too.

first things first: copious amounts of alcohol and Pizza Express do not mix. no, I didn’t chorf, I just feel a bit “gassy” today.

secondly. this is awesome:

http://babelogue.citypages.com:8080/canderson/2005/02/11

David Rees is funny.



http://portfolio.iu.edu/mmcmulla/war.320

oh boy.



http://www.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/europe/02/09/rice/index.html



U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said on Wednesday that Iran must live up to its international obligations to halt its nuclear program or “the next steps are in the offing.”

“And I think everybody understands what the ‘next steps’ mean,” Rice told reporters after a meeting with NATO foreign ministers and European Union officials.



I know, I know. she’s talking about the UN Security Council discussing Iran. but, talk about ominous and odious. “And I think everybody understand what the ‘next steps’ mean.”



also, Ashley takes the piss right outta me. worth mentioning.

(warning: I’m a pompous, smarmy prick in the paragraphs ahead)



went to the statehouse today. my dogs is barkin’, I said goddamn!

alright, so the Hoosiers for Higher Education. a real live bunch, as the Warriors would say. Their purpose, more or less, is to get together annually to guilt state senators and congressmen into accepting the state schools’ biannual budget. more less than more, that’s what it is.

I, however, did not know that. I thought we were just getting to see the capitol as a tour group or some shit. I had no idea what was expected of me, I thought it was going to be a bunch of college kids semi interested in government getting a tour of the governor’s office, looking at busts and ancient state flags. shit like that.

so Ashley is at my place at 9:45, and we get a bagel, and we’re at the bus by 10:15. she had said to dress nice, so I dress as nice as I can – dress shoes, a sweater, a fuckin’ belt. to the motherfuckin’ nines. you know how we roll, 219 for lyfe. I’m thinking I’m going to be overdressed. wrong. I was the only motherfucker with any color. some of my sweater is red, everybody else were in suits. that goes for the ladies too.



it wouldn’t be fair to my cynicism to let their description go at that, so here we go. all these kids are into student government – IUSA. Ashley’s in it, too, but she’s not in the sandbox political area of it. all the rest of these young achievers are getting pumped out about the upcoming election, which I can’t imagine ever getting pumed about. I may be wrong, but I think student government is a joke. most of the “parties” run on platforms like “stop cops from busting up keggers” and to “lower the drinking age to 18.” and then whoever wins can put student body president/VP/treasurer/secretary on their resumes, and get managerial positions at the companies I’ll eventually bend over for and work at. see, what I’m dealing with here are the future captains of industry. and I fucking hate that.

Ashley leans over to me and whispers about the guy a few squares down the sidewalk, “that guy actually was on his cell phone in the middle of a meeting talking to his broker about his investments.” we called that asshole “mutual fund” for the rest of the day. right. I digress.



so we get on the bus. I promptly fall asleep til we get there (“there” being the Indiana Convention Center across the street from the Capitol). we get off, and we’re supposed to get free eats, but the caterer screwed up so we each got ten dollar vouchers and were sent to a food court. over Subway, Ashley explained to me that I was supposed to, you know, schmooze with my state rep. the fuck?

I was in no condition to schmooze. I didn’t even know I wasn’t on a guided tour until I got there. so now I’m dreading the rest of the day. we head back over to the convention center where all the other student delegations from the other IU campuses were showing up. when I saw the Kokomo delegation, I serously sighed relief. they looked like they were from Kokomo. same with the IUN and South Bend kids. someone was actually wearing a Mountain Dew T shirt. so much for being the most poorly dressed.

we sat through a bunch of introduction speeches, were given a map of the statehouse which was much more confusing after some bitch tried to explain the diagrams to us over a bullhorn, and we went off to “lobby.”

I wasn’t much for lobbying, as I had no idea what I’d fucking say to Rep. Ralph Ayres from Chesterton if I actually got a hold of him, so I did a whole lot of wandering around. I sat in both the house and senate galleries for a while, and came to the conclusion that while state government is both banal and tiresome, it was right up my alley. so look for a future run from our favorite slacker!



the day pressed forward. I met up with Ashley, who was now bitching about her high heels wailing on her dogs, and we went back over to the convention center for a planned reception. I think it’s time for a list.



list of killer shit, concerning the reception:

1. the food was banging.

2. the food was also free. double banging!

3. Mutual Fund went up the Korean woman tending the open bar and asked for a Charaz. he was serious, which is even funnier than if he was just being a dick.

4. I had a bunch of mini quesadillas.

5. the IUSA stiffs at my table all got into a conversation about how great Washington is. I don’t think they’ve ever seen Anacostia. or Prince George’s County. or SE in general. or anything outside of SW. or …

6. one wants to work in the DC public defender’s office. why she wants to do that is beyond me, because a) she’s from Indiana and b) her parents probably amassed a lot of wealth to make sure she would never have to deal with the kind of people you’d find there.

7. the stiffs at my table made a bunch of snide remarks about another stiff’s tie being neon green (which is is supposedly in bad taste. who knew?). Ashley explained later that he belonged to a rival student government political party. I guess there must be some bad blood over “school sponsored raging benders litigation.”

8. IU president Adam Herbert actually screamed “go Hoosiers” into the mic during his remarks.



then, the day was done. we rode the bus home, during which I made no snide remarks about the experience. none. at all.

I will be honest, though. I thought that checking out the congress and senate in session was cool. even if they were discussing legislation like “increase in the max number of veteran license plates for veterans act.” I shit you not, they did.

right. so tomorrow morning I’m taking a bus up to Indianapolis, the metropolitan center of the world, and visiting the Statehouse with Hoosiers for Higher Education. whatever the fuck that is. Ashley signed me up, said it’s an excuse to “get away from campus for a while.”

fuck. you know I’m game, son.

so, tomorrer I’ll fill e’erybody in on it. so hunker down and wait! I’m outtie!

happenings today: bums love me. Philadelphia mourns. I go to sleep late.

ps – get away from me. the pit just dropped out of my stomach tonight.