rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

editors at papers get all sorts of stupid shit in the mail. promotional stuff, usually.
my boss gets about three pounds of corespondence a day, most of which is thrown away. sometimes, I step in and take what’s choice.
so now I have a glossy informational packet called “L Ron Hubbard: Writer,” and a spatula that reads “the incredible, edible egg” down the side. word.

my main man is running for president.
and you thought the next few months were going to be boring!

I’ve come to a realization about this job.
I can do it.
but with that comes a price: I’m bored. oh god, I’m bored sometimes. maybe I’m missing something important, but I don’t think so. I’ll ask for something to do, and I’m often told, “no, we’re fine.” and then, I’m left with hours to eat up. maybe they’re gearing up to fire me, but I doubt it.
we’ll see.

this weekend I went to a hot spring with some people I met at a party a week ago. very cool. it’s out in the desert past Holtville, I believe, in the middle of nowhere. we went at night, late, and it was pretty quiet. something out of a teenage horror movie, if you think in those terms. but yeah, think a natural hot tub, only about 20 degrees warmer.
I guess not much to say, except I had a good time.

three weeks. I’m pumped out.

squire: love is as contagious as a cold. it eats away at your strength, morale … if everything is imperfect in this world, love is perfect in its imperfection.
blacksmith: you’re happy, you with your oily words. you believe your own drivel.
squire: believe it? who said? but I love to give pieces of advice.

I’m watching live videos of Fu Manchu on youtube. fucking stoners.
but more importantly, I’m jacking it to Santorum.
and now you know where I’m at.

bought a bed today.
there’s a small furniture store about two blocks from here, next to the laundromat. I paid about $150 for a box spring and full-size mattress. I don’t know if that’s good, but it’s a lot cheaper than everywhere else I’ve looked. I bargain shopped at the expense of my back. so I’m happy.
beyond that, not much else. I’m going to see the midnight showing of “Saw III” tomorrow night with some dudes from work. it’s going to suck, but I haven’t seen a movie in a while. and I’d imagine I’ll get in free. maybe we can see “Marie Antoinette” instead. yeah, that’ll go over well with the guys.
work sucks sometimes. I know it’s the first job out of the gate, and there’s the possibility that I’m actually just missing the things I’m supposed to be doing, but if you aren’t given a section to prepare, you have nothing, at all, to do.
nothing. at all.
I was supposed to have two wire pages to build today. boss turns to me and says, “you know what? don’t worry about it, I’ll get one.”
uhh…
after intentionally taking my time I was done with my single wire page in half an hour. that left me with about five hours to go with my dick in my hands. and there’s only so much you can view on the internet at work that’s work appropriate.
like this. couldn’t look at this at work.

I feel like doing that after I read things like U.S. congressmen calling for CNN’s banishment for airing a video of marines dying in Iraq.

“Does CNN want America to win this thing?” Hunter asked yesterday on the network. In past wars, he said, the media was more pro-American.
“You can’t be on both sides of the war,” (he) said.

that’s what people fail to understand: the media isn’t fucking supposed to take sides, you nimrods. it’s the media, not anyone’s pulpit! everyone, in my opinion, should look and sound like Jim Lehrer: cold, dry and dead, but speaking a stream of facts… and not on anybody’s side.
“and that’s the news.” christ, the rest of network news is basically cartoons. all sorts of scrolling headlines and flags waving and prescription drug commercials. and the live shots, jesus. I don’t know how Mike puts up with it. I want to murder some of those correspondents with a hammer.

speaking of hammered, midterm elections are in two weeks. that tuesday, I’m soaking myself in alcohol and getting drunk on the fumes. and watching CNN, cause I’m obviously for the terrorists. whoever the fuck they are.

coolest mural in town, I think.

from my bedroom window. notice the motorized wheelchair in the background. didn’t think it was too often that I’d get a chance to get the drug-dealing ice cream man and a scrambler in one shot. I mean, come on, man.

the introspective shot of the day. look at them half-closed eyes! they’re makin’ for you.

out of the window of my truck at a stoplight.

the good doctor.

downtown. man, downtown’s rad here, in a dilapidated kind of way.

went to a Halloween party on saturday night.
I dressed as a mummy. actually rented a costume. I’m sorry, to all of you who think more of me. call it peer pressure. call it laziness. I don’t know. I went to Yuma (all of 40 miles from here) with the mystery roommate and the girl he was dating.
notice, I said ‘was.’
I’m not much one for costumes. as my brother said on the phone when I told him what I was doing: “you might as well just buy a rubber gorilla mask. you’re going to be too drunk to give a fuck by the end of the night anyway.”
agreed.
we were at the costume shop for about an hour. the girl with the mystery roommate kept on looking at shit, dragging her feet, wanting to buy odds and ends (though she already had a costume) and the mystery roommate was trying to be diplomatic. after that, she had to buy shoes for her costume, so went to a shoe store, where she proceeded to buy not shoes for her costume, but boots that she thought looked cute. no kidding. when Mike called, I stepped out and let loose a string of curse words into the cell phone. hey, gotta vent to someone.
either way, I rented a costume, and that’s the last fucking time I bother doing that. first off, no one knew what the fuck I was supposed to be; secondly, renting it means you have to give it back, and back means going out to Yuma again (went this afternoon); and third, you can make a mummy costume for about three dollars. go to a thrift shop, buy a sheet somebody probably died in and cut it into strips. viola.
the party, though, was fun.
bonged a beer, which I hadn’t done in about three years. didn’t vomit. met this cool girl who told me she’d show me around the Algodones dunes (shot “star wars” there, BOSS) and walked out holding a bag of Doritos.
so I got all that and a bag of chips.
doesn’t anyone else think that’s funny?
the mystery roommate, by the end of the night, was trashed, so I drove home. he proceeded to get in a nasty fight with his date, and I had to drive her home. this is what I’m talking about when I say “drinking problem.” he drinks, a lot, and he’s a creepy drunk. when he decides to go, he don’t come to fuck around: he goes. staggering, introverted, cryptic kind of shit. I guess he said some horrible shit to the girl, cause she related it all to me on the ride home. I tried to be diplomatic about it, as I wasn’t there and didn’t want to be anywhere near involved with this, but today, at work – of course she works at the paper – she asked for my phone number.
“uh. okay.” I don’t know what that means. but it can’t be good. I guess they’re done. I’m not about to start.
but all in all, I’m much more involved in the community all of the sudden, though that really means I’m not at all. I’ve had a handful of people ask me to hang out at different times this weekend, and in one way or another, that’s good; I could use the social interaction.

even so: I’m still pumped out of my mind for Thanksgiving. it’s going to be cold in DC. I can’t wait.

early reports indicate that the mystery roommate may have a drinking problem.
details to follow, when I’m not about to pass out from exhaustion.

it’s been an eventful 24 hours.
I went down to a festival in Mexicali last night with Greg and this girl he’s dating. she speaks fluent spanish. it helps.
it was like the biggest county fair ever, without any performance or vendor passes necessary. which made it a bit more, ahem, off the cuff.

I saw these dudes, or dudes similar. it’s an indian ritual; five guys climb to the top of a pole with a rope attached, roughly, to their ankles, wrap it around the platform at the top, and swing backward off of it. very cool to see, and dizzying. it’s a big pole, man. cool wikipedia article about it.
I drank something that tasted like a Mexican take on a bloody mary, and I listened to this band. they’re called Kinky. the kids love them.

got home last night around 1:30, and slept for about four hours. got up, rushed to work, listened to my boss berate me for dressing like a slob (I know, Mar, I know) and ate free lunch when the taco guy came.

the taco guy is a serious player in the race for my favorite person of the last month. once every couple of weeks, the publisher springs for free lunch for everybody; around noon, this dude and his teenage accomplice unload a grill from their SUV in the parking lot and proceed to broil about ten pounds of cheap steak. it’s then minced and put in a tortilla (flour or corn, whatever you’re feeling) and handed to you. condiment table is provided. you can have as much as you want.
I had four today.

the taco guy’s competition is a coworker in the pressroom, who, for decency’s sake, shall remain nameless – and also because I can’t remember her name.
either way, she’s this little old lady, who looks, talks, and moves just like a Fraggle. from Fraggle Rock. it’s fucking awesome, man. she’s missing a tooth, she scuttles around the newsroom from time to time, and she occasionally brings in breakfast burritos. which, might I add, are delicious.
maybe I’m an asshole because she makes me laugh, but I definitely smile when I see her coming. she’s very nice, her physicality (blanket term) is hilarious, and she provides cheap eats.
so she’s pretty cool. I fuckin’ loved the Fraggles. they were a revelation in that one muppet TV christmas special when they were in the basement and the Swedish chef was holding it down in the kitchen. does anyone else remember that?

and yes, I recognize that all you have to do to be in the running here is provide me with affordable food.

alright, it’s 4:30 in the pm here. time to pass out.

then I’d be hard pressed to say no.

VAN – Gloria

like to tell you ’bout my baby, you know she comes around,
just ’bout five feet four a-from her head to the ground.
you know she comes around here just about midnight,
she make me feel so good, lord, she make me feel all right.A

and her name is g, l, o, r, i,
g, l, o, r, i, a, Gloria
g, l, o, r, i, a, Gloria
I’m gonna shout it all night, Gloria
I’m gonna shout it every day, Gloria
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

she comes around here just about midnight,
she make me feel so good, lord, I wanna say she make me feel all right.
comes a-walkin’ down my street, then she comes up to my house,
she knock upon my door and then she comes to my room,
yeah an’ she make me feel all right,

g, l, o, r, i, a, Gloria
g, l, o, r, i, a, Gloria
I’m gonna shout it all night, Gloria
I’m gonna shout it every day, Gloria
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
looks so good Gloria
All right, feel so good Gloria
All right, yeah now.

now, some of you might say,
“jesus god, did Matt just bother to post the lyrics to fuckin’ ‘Gloria?’ is he making fun of me?”

yes, I did. and no, I’m not.