rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I’ve kept a web log for over two years.
jesus fuck, I need a hobby.

2007 is off to a great start.
I woke up this morning, after sleeping for four hours last night. I just couldn’t go down. I stumble into work at about ten after six, and I’m met with a surprised look.
“what are you doing here? you don’t work today.”
so I went home, muttering. I got an extra five hours of sleep somewhere between 7 am and 2 pm, so while I did drag myself out of bed this morning, I got the day off. so, glass half empty, or half full?
after a shower and being up for 40 minutes, it’s harder to fall back asleep than you’d imagine. I didn’t try; I watched Michael Mann’s “Miami Vice” instead. I think someone should forcibly remove the script from Mann’s hands, or at least require a screenwriter to sit there with him while he’s writing it. he has a wonderful eye for location and color, and he can make a movie look absolutely stunning. but he also chooses a chintzy soundtrack and has a flair for shitty love stories.
I mean, come on, man. the guy likes fuckin’ Audioslave. a lot. and he had two shower sex scenes. with two separate couples. and Audioslave alone takes cheese to an entirely new level.

went to sleep afterwards.
I had an absolutely horrible dream about savage hillbillies. dreams are hard to recant. and I don’t want to push this one very hard.

I got up when Alisha called. talked to her for a while, and then drove due west from El Centro -towards the US Gypsum plant about 20 miles from here on the Evan Hewes Highway. there’s a whole lot of nothing out there, and on a clear day (every day) the sky can be very blue. very pretty out here, in its own way.
those, above, are the pictures. it’s going to be that kind of year.

I watched IU lose to Ohio State, then went over to the laundromat. I’m running low on socks and drawers.
while there, I got through a month of “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail,” while someone’s toddler ran wild around the washing machines. I really wish someone would write something like this for a modern campaign. if Thompson had had the energy to do this year in and out, it would have made for a great compedium of modern American politics. but, even reading it now, you can tell it burned him out. he hated Washington, disliked big party politics. I can’t imagine why.
I’ve got to quote from it. got to. you know what I’m talking about:

“in other words, the weight of the evidence filtering down from the high-brain rooms of both the New York Times and the Washington Post seems to say we’re all fucked. Muskie is a bonehead who steals his best lines from old Nixon speeches. McGovern is doomed because everyone who knows him has so much respect for the man that they can’t bring themselves to degrade the poor bastard by making him run for president … John Lindsay is a dunce, Gene McCarthy is crazy, Humphrey is doomed and useless, Jackson should have stayed in bed … and, well, that just about wraps up the trip, right?
“not entirely, but I feel The Fear coming on, and the only cure for that is to chew up a fat black wad of blood-opium about the size of a young meatball and then call a cab for a fast run down to that strip of X-film houses on 14th Street … peel back the brain, let the opium take hold, and get locked into serious pornography.”
-HST, ‘the campaign trail, ’72,’ pg. 54.

another ten months, and the horrible national dance begins again. I gotta get in on it.

until then, Pat Robertson has some bad news. he and God were sitting around, bullshitting – you know how it is – and God laid some heavy shit on Pat: there’s going to be a tragedy this year, the likes of which you have never fucking seen. God didn’t say what was going down, exactly (God’s such an asshole sometimes) but Pat’s thinking nuclear. and terrorists.
so, you know, donate to CBN now.

also, “punkrocker” by the Teddybears is a pretty cool song. check it out.