rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

the choral bridge in “some kind of wonderful” by Grand Funk Railroad is awesome.

Now is there anybody, got a sweet little woman like mine?
There got to be somebody, got a, got a sweet little woman like mine?
But can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness? Yeah …
Can I get a witness? Ohhh …
Can I get a witness? Yeah …
Can I get a witness? Yes.

alright, anyway.
here’s this week’s review of “Roll Bounce.” you can’t get a witness, but it seems you can get a mediocre film.

Mar is in Alaska.
Mar is in Alaska. sink it in.
I object to it, not in a clearheaded way. I object because she’s my little sister, and I’d be concerned wherever she went. I’d be concerned if she were going to Purdue for the weekend or across campus to see some guy. I’m a big brother. and, I’ll be god damned, older brothers are bothered by this kind of shit. at least, any older brother worth anything.
so I’m not pissed at her, I was just pissed she didn’t tell me. I found out through Aunt Lynn, the family gossip hound. not cool. Mar and I go back. we’re from the streets. everything I’ve been through with my family, Mar’s been there, too. every plane trip, every awkward reunion, every shitty holiday, Mar’s been there. so me and her, I think, are tight. besides the obvious – she and I are siblings, and anyone with a brother or sister can understand that.
I can also understand why she didn’t tell me: it’s because I’m her brother. probably a few things she doesn’t want to discuss with me. fair enough.

what else is newz.
I pulled “the greatest game ever played” this week. about golf. god damn it, I would have preferred to detail a pile of dogshit than write a summary of an inspirational Disney movie.

Tom DeLay was indicted by a grand jury in Texas. what a fucking asshole.
interesting article in the Washington Post, by a guy named – I shit you not – Balz. heh.
check-check-check it out.

I’m listening to “been caught stealing” by Jane’s Addiction. there’s your title explanation, right there.

you know where I want to visit? I don’t think anyone would ever guess this in a million years.
the Falkland Islands.
the windswept, sparsely populated, sheepfarming, barren, desolate and isolated Falkland Islands.
they had a war there in the 80s. UK worked Argentina over sovereignty rights. the failure of the Argentine military brought down the military regime running the country. good. fuck them. that has nothing to do with my desire to visit, however. I’m not looking for that.

I’ve got no idea where I’ll end up in life. assuming I’m alive in thirty years – and I plan to be – where will I be? this isn’t anything new. everyone has thoughts like this. but picturing yourself in the future, I get so fucking curious. will I be married, have a family? successful? what will I look like? any visible scars?
could I be living on the Falkland Islands when I’m 45? I’m not ruling it out. life is a chose your own adventure book. maybe I’ll own a porno shop off the interstate in Missouri. maybe I’ll live in a 19th century farmhouse with bad heating in Nebraska. maybe I’ll be a successful writer. work in a prison. have a job in newsprint. be an amputee. vote conservative. work on an oil rig. on an ocean freight liner.
or maybe I’ll live on the Falkland Islands.

well, actually, I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll never be conservative.

welcome to Port Stanley, the Falklands. a church made with whalebone.

I normally don’t really care much for IDS opinion columnists – and yes, Smith, you jackass, I know I wanted to be one.
but this week, there’s a good one about the Catholic church banning gays from the priesthood.
the guy really hits his stride near the end.

stop reading about Brad and Jen and Renee and Kenny and read about this.

it’s 12:45, sunday morning/saturday night.

I worked today, and then went and saw “Roll Bounce.” had to go by myself. there’se something depressing about seeing a movie, in the theatre, by yourself. I don’t like doing it.
anyway, it kind of sucked, but it had some funny parts. Charlie Murphy and Mike Epps as garbage men were funny. and I don’t really want to give it a shitty grade, but I can’t, honestly can’t squeeze a B out of this one. if I’m lenient, it’ll get a C. we’ll see, though. I’ve been trying to write the review, and so far, the only thing I’ve definitely got is this line:

It’s official: Bow Wow is no longer lil’.

yeah, I like it as much as you do.

I’m stoned right now. we’re somewhere between doing nothing, and going out for the night. I’m not sure I want to go out, but I think I’ll just play it by ear.

I finally got my Slim Cessna’s Auto Club album in the mail. it’s their first; a great album. I’m serious now. this is what you should do…
download “Limon,” “my goodness me,” and “willow garden.” listen to them. and imagine me driving around in my car, yodeling, singing along in front of confused frat guys while I dig around in my car for their sandwich.
absolutely gorgeous songs, especially the last two. “willow garden” is a bit more upbeat, and “my goodness me” reminds me a lot of the fall, specifically cold temperatures and warm homes – I’m not sure why, and yes, I recognize that’s one of the cheesiest lines I’ve ever written on here – but on the strength of those two songs alone, it’s worth buying the album.
I wish all country sounded this way. I fucking hate modern Nashville industry shit. Toby Keith, Kenny Chesney fucking sucks, so does Charlotte Church. anything that could work in a pinch for a jingle and a slogan in a Ford truck commercial, by my standards, is bad music.
Slim Cessna’s Auto Club has to be labeled as something, and the first thing that comes to mind is “country.” but it’s had to fight hard to ward off the label of “kitsch.” people assume that they’re a joke, and there’s some truth to that. they’re very tongue in cheek. but regardless of their core, how they formed, it did turn out some incredibly good music.

tomorrow: Bears game. meet with my tutor. work. rinse, repeat.

movie review was in the paper today. you can stoke my huge ego here.

gave it a C minus. I don’t write the slugs, so I didn’t absolutely hate it, which is what it would lead you to believe.
this week, I’ve got “Roll Bounce.” Bow Wow (no longer lil’) stars in it. with Nick Cannon. and that skinny guy with an afro from “Coach Carter” and “Old School.” and Chi McBride. and Charlie Murphy. and a girl from “Venom,” incidentally. wow, small world.

I emailed my AI to make sure what exact office hours were. he wrote back “check Oncourse.” Oncourse is a university website that lists your classes, where profs can post shit. so instead of just telling me what his hours were, he tells me to “check Oncourse.”
thanks, dick.

I fucking hate Stats. and he’s not helping.

breaking news:

this guy’s a dick.

yeah, that’s all.

so my 3 hour lecture on probation and parole is shaping up to be the coolest class I’ll have this semester.

the professor is adjunct. he’s actually the probation chief for Marion county – which for all of you folks not from Indiana, means Indianapolis.
so the motherfucker’s got some war stories. he’s been a probation officer for basically his adult life. started off in north Philadelphia. worked in Chicago. central Illinois. Michigan. now here.
sounds like an interesting job. seriously. but it takes work; something you gotta love. so I’m tenuous right now. could I actually see myself doing this? this is the question that killed the whole teaching certificate fiasco. I don’t want to be a teacher. I’m pretty sure I don’t, at least. and that doubt’s good enough for me.

meanwhile, what else is ups.
Ben stopped by today. out of the blue. he’s living at his brother’s place right now. I have no idea who he kicks it with, but he just comes and goes. I hadn’t seen him in a month, and then in through the door he comes. I told him to stop by more often, but he’s a barrel full of monkeys. so who knows if he will or not?

Alisha stopped by the other day.
Smith and Josh were both in the apt. I didn’t invite her, she just showed up. I heard somebody knocking at the screen door, and me and Josh looked up from my room.
I never bring her over here. and I don’t really go out of my way to see her. I see her, probably once a week; sometimes I’ll ask her to see one of the shitty movies I review with me. but that’s it. after that, I drop her off, I never go in. I hate to think it, but she’s bad news, so I tread lightly.
either way, you know it’s bad when Phil says to you the next day, “so, Alisha was here. huh… what, does she hang out with you just to fuck with you?”
yeah, my friends don’t like her. not that they don’t like her, they just don’t like what they think she’s doing to me. I’m not burning with desire or anything, but they have a point.
Jesus fuck, I don’t feel like dealing with this right now.

what elses.
I’m either reviewing “roll bounce,” “dirty love,” “corpse bride,” or “flight plan.” I bet I get the Jenny McCarthy vehicle. fucking typical.

been a while.
let’s see.
friday: failed that stats test. hard. like, I really, really failed it. so I hired a tutor, some guy named Jeff. whenever I need to sit down with him, I give him a day or two’s notice, and we go over shit. which is a good thing.
went and saw “Venom.” it’ll be in the paper thursday, I gave it a C minus. I had to drive all the way the fuck up to Greenwood (which is about five miles south of Indianapolis) to see it. only place in the metropolitan area that was screening it. I’m serious. read the review, slacker.

saturday: worked, all, day. I was totally burned out by the end. not much else to say about that.

sunday: Chicago 38, Detroit 6.

today: went to press time, sat there for the obligatory 45 minutes. this is the last fucking time I do it. I’m serious.
I had to stay, though. some jackass got stabbed by a bunch of derelicts who hang out in People’s Park. it’s going on the front page tomorrow, and I’ll probably get a nod or recognition for my contribution to it. I’m not going to write it, but I provided all the god damned information, so I had better.

and tonight, I have to write a paper for P461. should be interesting.

stay real, young world.

so okay, I’m studying for my statistics class. test on friday.

compute P. 65 for the following graph.

score / frequency
Interval A: 185 / 5
B: 182 / 10
C: 179 / 15
D: 176 / 8
E: 173 / 2
F: 170 / 0

so my notes suck, but as I see it, it goes this way:
you add up the cumulative frequency, and that’s 40. then you go ahead and get you some .65 x 40, and that = 26.
so you look at your cum. frequency, and 26 falls in Interval C.
Intveral C’s low true limit is 177.5.
the interval size is 3, and the frequency for C is 15. so what you want to do is 177.5 + (3/15)(26-10). or, 180.7. but you get full credit if your equation is written out correctly, so it doesn’t really matter.
and that’s your answer. I think.

god, I’m fucked.

I spent tonight thinking I had a paper due in the morning.
you ever do that? I read that fucking syllabus at least a dozen times, and didn’t catch that it isn’t due til next week. which is good. cause it’s midnight, and I still only have about a page.

I’ve got another five pager due wednesday. these are for my p493 (juvenile delinquency) and p461 (lethality). both are pretty tame. very abstract courses. want to talk about our thoughts and such. which means I could probably turn in an essay on a magnificent dump I just took, and still get a B.
what really scares me, though, is my stats course. have a test on friday. I make no claims that I can string numbers together – at all – and the course is admittedly hard. the instructor makes a point to tell the class that, whenever he can. he’s an old bastard, wears orthopedic shoes and a sparse mustache. reminds me of an old school east coast. not like Ivy League, summer in the Hamptons east coast. more like a south Philadelphia guy who just really likes math.
either way, I haven’t studied for it much to this point, which means I’ll have to go balls out to get a C on it. God Bless.


so yeah, it was inevitable. I’ve spent the last few days, on and off, thinking about Sarah.
I haven’t fucked myself, I’m pretty confident of that.
well, wait, let me explain.
first, I’m gonna point out that her name’s not Sarah. just that who knows who reads this, and I’ve kind of learned from experience that namedropping ain’t such a good thing on this thing. leaving her name out of what I’ll say just seems pertinent to me, if to no one else.
anyway.
I kind of hit it off with her on thursday night. was out with a bunch of work friends, she was there. I work with her, so that would make sense. either way, I’ve always liked Sarah. nice person, cool to work with. I just never thought about her beyond that. I mean, I’ve always thought she’s cute, but fuck. not to take away from her, but I could walk out the door onto campus between classes, close my eyes, spin around and point, and I’d find a cute girl. not like it’s hard.
but yeah. bought her a drink. we were among friends, so conversation was lite and rapid. I don’t even remember what we talked about, just thinking that I liked her, she was fun to be around. we exchanged numbers, etc.
so I drove her home thursday night and nothing happened.
while we were driving, she brought up dating. said she didn’t want to meet anyone new, would be more interested in dating someone she knew already and was cool with. I don’t even remember what I said to that.
my friends found it absurd that I didn’t try anything, but she was drunk and I was not, and I had class in the morning, and I don’t know, I thought I’d see how it went in the next days.
so I saw her friday night.
hung out with her for a little, then she ended up coming back here. I had only planned on going inside to grab my keys, but she ended up staying. we talked for an hour on my couch. conversation was pretty heavy. like, family shit, hopes and dreams. told me stuff that I’m not sure she would have told me if she hadn’t had so much to drink (friday nights in Bloomington almost always = lots of booze for everyone). after that, for at least that night, pulling some bullshit would have been out of line. way out of line. just take my word for it.
so now, I don’t know. as far as dating, I’ve always been just a shade higher than inept. I’m treading lightly, as I work with her – there are other guys at work who have or have tried to date her, and I’m not sure she exactly likes that. so on one hand, I don’t want to fuck up with someone I work with. on the other, I like *Sarah*, and I’m halfway interested in making something of this.
so yeah. we’ll see how it works out.

in other news. my fantasy football team won. kick. ass.