rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

the wind is gusting outside pretty hard. this sounds like something out of a Robert Frost poem, but it’s something nice to fall asleep to. and it’s supposed to be no hotter than 80 tomorrow, so that’s pretty legit.

shaved my head today. but while brushing my teeth in the mirror, it’s grown apparent I missed a few spots. nice. tomorrow, I’ll work on correcting them.

after work tonight – which sucked, everything was done by 8 p.m. for once and I was forced to make small talk with my boss for about an hour, which was uncomfortable for reasons that I’ll soon explain – I went to the grocery store.
I bought:
loaf of bread, white
30 individually wrapped slices of homgenized American cheese
half gallon of skim milk
half gallon of orange juice
bar soap
toothpaste
12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon (only five bucks)
six pack of Ramen noodles, chicken flavored
alltogether, 20 bucks. yes.
then, I went home and burned the living shit out of a grilled cheese sandwich and ate it out of spite. and it wasn’t half bad.

Greg scored three passes for all three days of the Coachella Festival later this month. which means I get to go, which is balls-out legit. I don’t think I can handle three straight days of that bullshit, but I’m definitely down for at least one. a reunited Rage Against the Machine plays Sunday night. Bjork Friday, Red Hot Chili Peppers Saturday. plus, a million other bands, like Amy Winehouse, Kings of Leon, the New Pornographers, Interpol, Sonic Youth. working for newspapers does have its perks.
that’s in three weeks.
next weekend – not this weekend, cause this weekend I’m working, just me and Gary, the befuddled senior citizen who has been forced into copy editing by our dickhead of a boss in a vain attempt to make him retire – is another bullfight. hell yes.
I forget who I was talking about with this, but blood sport came up, and I said I’d go to a cockfight. maybe even a dogfight. they were appalled. but I figure if I’m willing to sit through a bullfight and actually enjoy myself, then what the fuck? what kind of false morality kicks in with the other genres? I have a dog at home, yeah, but my boycotting a dogfight in Mexicali does nothing at all to slow its existence. and as far as bullfights go? I know this argument is tired, but it still rings true: at least they get a shot at someone. unless you’re a fully committed vegan or someone who can afford to buy free-range pork and beef and eggs, etc., we’re all living well at the expense of the animal kingdom’s suffering. so cry me a river about the inhumanity of these spectacles. no one’s laying down in front of the doors of the McDonalds I can see from my bedroom window, and they aren’t in your neighborhood, either.
to note: I’m not going to a dogfight. I’ve never even heard of one. but they go down nearby, so this is all hypothetical.

but back to the point.
I’ve got a pretty rowdy April planned. entertained, the entire way through. whcih I find ironic. because I quit my job on Tuesday.
my last day will be May 8th. then I’m packing, driving back, and going to Europe to meet up with Mar and blow through whatever money I’ve saved up out here. I bet I can flush four grand pretty quick. right?
my manager took it pretty well. the editor-in-chief pulled his usual routine; compliment laced heavily with insult. but that’s alright. I’m gone in a month anyway. and I’m getting good results back from the places I’ve sent out to. the paper in Charlottesville, VA is coming on pretty strong. moving right to the heavy petting.

so yeah. Mar and I are going to screw about in Europe for a few weeks.
(also: Mar is in the Balkans. awesome)
I’m sure there are other opinions on this out there, but you only live once. I don’t know why I feel so flippant about this. I don’t necessarily feel liberated, but I think that’s mostly because as of right now, nothing has changed. but I’m happy with the decision.