rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I don’t have one that I don’t like. that’s something to write home about – I’m as jaded, disfigured, and grumpy as they come regarding popular music. but I bought “Bossanova” today, and it’s fantastic.

I’m listening to it, and I’ve got the player on random. I’ve forgotten how to turn it off, so you can’t listen to the album straight through without some paying attention – and I’m all for not paying attention, which some bands want you to do. oh well.
either way, “Ana” played right into “Havalina.” you would never have noticed the change, which is fantastic, cause both work well on their own, as different songs. says something for how well they roll with each other.

that’s the thing about the Pixies. besides the fact that they seem to get a little surf rock as their albums progressed, you could really mix and match the different songs to different albums, and they would all still fit. nothing to complain about. the Pixies held it down. everything they dropped was worth paying attention to.
I mean, fuck! you know how every generation of musician has their influence? from Guthrie came Dylan. from Orbison came Springsteen. from the Beatles came everyone.
well, where do you think Nirvana came from?
show some respect. Pixies were rock solid.

okay. other newz.
for some reason, I went through today feeling like I had something important to do. had to be somewhere. had some homework that urgently needed doing. here I am, hours later. nothing done. feel slovenly. today was my running day off – weather was bad, and you’re supposed to give yourself a day off a week if you’re gonna run that much anyway. been trying to keep myself from eating, which I’ve noticed is becoming a pretty bad habit – when I’m bored, I raid the fridge.
that’s how the obese are born. I’m not there yet, God bless, but let’s not start down that path.

so anyway, I’ve been dicking around, reading, killing time all evening. what have I learned? well: I read on it, and discovered that Jeffrey Dahmer was a sick sonofabitch who wanted a zombie sex slave; leading off that, I took an online zombie survival quiz and got a 70% (I’d probably survive a zombie attack); Phil had a good time in Las Vegas during the Steelworker’s Union Convention (Phil dropped by); I can eat a lot of Oreos; I want a goddamned dog. now. not in the summer – right now.

okay, everybody follow that? Phil liked Vegas, I like Oreos and dogs, I kick zombie ass, and Jeffrey Dahmer was an amateur zombie scientist.

oh, and the Pixies are great.

so, I at least learned a few things tonight by sittng on my ass, watching the History channel and surfing the internet.
everything bears fruit.

holy fuck. shit!

http://www.pierogifest.net/index.html

Pierogi Fest is coming up this summer. I went with Moms like two years ago.

word of warning: don’t try to represent if you don’t think you can hang. it gets pretty rowdy.

I’ve decided, right now, that I’m going. if anyone would like to come along, just let me know. I’d suggest going to the gym, though, and working out. you need to be in shape, able to flex if you want to roll into northwest Indiana, especially on a guy wearing a pierogi suit.

I love this section of the country.

Mar got a job in the Minnesota boundary waters leading kids on nature hikes.
she all like, “Matt, should I do it?”
and I all like “shit yeah.” Mar’s the bomb.

I picked up an application for the summer copy chief. everybody cross your fingers. if I get it, it’s the first thing in a long time I can cite for a decent resume.

I shaved my head. or rather, Josh shaved it for me. look out, ladies!

Its been almost a week, and I’m still running. somebody give me a dollar.

after a brief scare, it looks like Tom Petty and the Black Crowes are still on for June. exhale with me now, just like we learned in lamaze class.

it’s gonna be a beautiful baby. and by baby, I mean summer. do I have to spell everything out? fuck!

ps- Spencer, I remember that jacket. I have no idea where it is, but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember it.

news: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and the Black Crows are playing at Deer Creek in June. huh? what???

secondly: it is as warm as fuck outside today. I’m going running. cause I’m all into being physically fit, and that kind of shit. who? where?????

%*: Falafels stays open til 3 AM on FRIDAYS and SATURDAYS. huh? you can’t handle that? do something.

F: David Horowitz is a crazy asshole. went to see him on Wednesday.
I’d try to wrap my head around it, go into why I don’t like him, but it’s 1:45 in the afternoon. I just woke up. and I’m only posting this because it’s been a week, and I need to post just to stay in habit.
so anyway, it’s really not a level playing field to go at him at a speech or a lecture. see, he’s so used to people calling him on his shit, he’s preemptively defensive during the Q&A. it always turns into a shouting match, with him lording over some cowering undergrad before the poor kid can finish his sentence. then he rambles on about some shit that didn’t even pertain to the question in the first place, some anecdote or talking point to pander to the conservative crowd near the front.
oh yeah, and he equated the modern American progressive movement with Stalinists and Nazis. worth mentioning.

15: for anyone who really wants to know, you can go roughly two months past the due date on your cable bill before they will shut off service for you. just in case you’re into not paying the cable company…

I didn’t see it. but that Sandra Bullock woman seems like a nice lady, so here’s to hoping it does.

news: Pope died. he was on the ropes (Pope’s on the ropes) for a few days, then he tapped out in a double hemlock. that joke’s been played, I know.

I got ripped Saturday night. I started the evening off with around 45 dollars, and when I counted the remains the next morning before work, I was at 14. I need to be better about this.

I saw “Sin City” with my man Phil on Friday night. pretty cool movie. fun to simply look at. incredibly violent, but in that cartoonish over the top way. Mickey Rourke held it down, he was great in his role. Bruce Willis was solid, so was Clive Owen. I think Brittany Murphy is 1. gorgeous, and 2. a good actress. Jessica Alba wore a thong and chaps. that’ll do, she has done what was asked of her.
later that night, I ended up at the Video Saloon with Phil, Josh, and Galia. I managed to drink plenty of beer on three dollars and Phil’s goodwill. one of Galia’s friends from class showed up with her roommate. after about an hour of shuffling around and cajoling, the roommate asks me if I wanna make out, and some making out follows. I wasn’t too drunk. it lasted long enough.

I read this Twain quote the other day. “The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself.”

Galia had rushed up to me about fifteen minutes after we first ran into her friends, and she’s like “oh my god. Matt. my friend just told me that her roommate thinks you’re totally hot, and she really wants to kiss you.” I blush, and do the natural Matt reaction of rolling my eyes, and Galia’s like “I’m fucking serious, Matt.”

there was a hint of desparation in Galia’s face later that night when she actually brought the girl over to where I was standing, staring into my Pabst’s. I don’t know what it is. I know they aren’t lying to me. Josh was punching me in the shoulder, “dude, that girl wants you. go find her.” and I just felt imobilized.
the girl was standing there next to me, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, she got to the point. she asked me, more or less. “wanna make out?”
I kissed her, or rather, she kissed me. after a minute or two, she pulled back and said “you don’t seem into this.”
I was. I think I was, but I said, “I’m sorry.”
I’m serious. this is what I said. I said, “I’m sorry, it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone.” it had been.
she pulled away, said she’d be back in a minute, didn’t come back. that was all.
she was pretty. the girl was. I thought she was when I was introduced to her, and by all accounts I was fucking surprised to find out she was into me.
I’ve been thinking about it all weekend. why I didn’t find her, seek her out. why I’ve got to get my friends to push me into this. it’s like I think way too hard on these things and before I know it, my shoelaces are tied together and my mind is racing.

you kiss a girl you’ve been looking at all night, and for the next twelve hours music sounds better. the weather is warmer.
you wish you had kissed her back.

christ. I’ve got some knots to untie.

hmm: even though Beck is a scientologist, he can still write him a song.

I saw her, yeah I saw her
With a black tongue tied round the roses
A fist pounding on a vending machine
Toy diamond ring stuck on her finger
With a noose she could hang from the sun
And point it out with the dark sunglasses
Walking crooked down the beach
She spits in the sand
Where their bones are bleaching

And I know I’m gonna steal her eye
She doesn’t even know it’s wrong
And you know I’m gonna make it die
Take her where her soul belongs
Know I’m gonna steal her eye
Nothing that I wouldn’t try
My summer girl
Hey my summer girl
My summer girl
Hey my summer girl

I saw her, yeah I saw her
With her hands tied back
Her rags are burnin’
Calling out from a landfilled life
Scrawling her name up on the ceiling
Throw a coin in the fountain of dust
White noise, her ears are ringing
Got a ticket for my midnight hanging
Throw a bullet from a freight train leaving

And I know I’m gonna steal her eye
She doesn’t even know it’s wrong
And you know I’m gonna make it die
Take her where her soul belongs
Know I’m gonna steal her eye
Nothing that I wouldn’t try
My summer girl
Hey my summer girl