take the volume out
I’ve got “The Lost Patrol” on, the ancient John Ford movie. it’s this or “Death Wish” as I sit here and type this, and I think Bronson is just too much for me right now. on the other hand, “The Lost Patrol” would be a million times better without the music. and Bors Karloff was one creepy son of a bitch.
my mom sent me a lot of shit for Valentine’s Day. like, an excuse to send a care package in an envelope.
so, contents of mom’s valentine’s day package:
a copy of Jan. 18′s Indiana Daily Student.
recipes on kitchen cards for grilled ham and cheese, meat loaf, beef stew, chicken and rice, stir fry and omelets.
an IDS article from Feb. 8 about the Indiana win over Illinois.
a Feb. 6 Northwest Indiana Times article about how Valparaiso blew a huge-upset win against Butler. at home. I watched that game, it was brutal.
three photos, one of Smith, Andrew and myself; one of Mar and I; and a third of Mar, myself and the dog.
tax forms from El Centro.
twenty bucks.
a column by the Times’ Al Hamnik, about how Knight is a douche.
a letter from my grandmother in longhand.
taco seasoning.
an editorial cartoon printed in the Times from the Indy Star that mocks Bob Knight’s retirement.
a Times article about Knight’s retirement as told by a local jackass who played on Knight’s undefeated IU team in ’76 but had a falling out with the coach.
a 3×5 Valentine’s Day card featuring stick figures drawn by Crayola markers illustrated by mom. the stick figures are me, doing my ‘favorite things.’
I went up to DC and stayed at my brother’s for the last day or two. going up, I was in a bad mood. coming back, not so bad. it out to be a great two days.
went to a Georgetown game on Monday night, against Villanova, at the Verizon Center. it’s a cool place to see a game, and that place was humming by the end of it. kind of exhilarating. home team won, dramatically, at the end. during the game we ran into my brother’s friend, who is an interesting motherfucker. his name is Adrian, he makes for good company.
on Tuesday I ate a bunch of brownies and went to Dupont Cricle. at that bookstore that’s just outside the Metro stop on Connecticut I bought “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy. then I read about ninety pages of it at a Starbucks.
and then I met Spencer and he humored the shit out of me and we talked and drank beer for about four hours. Spencer got me to thinking, whether he meant to or not, about my current situation, and it did me good.
I’ve been kind of in the dumps recently, but I’m really very tired of moping. it’s fucking draining to mope. to be drag-ass depressing is exhausting and it slows time down, in a bad way, so I’m ready to be done. whether or not I stop, we’ll see. I hope so.
but that’s only kind of the point. the other half is: I don’t really like my job all that much. but I don’t hate the people I work with; they’re generally okay. if only for a few hours at work each day. I just think I need a change. I’m not hating on Charlottesville, but I’m not sure I want to put down roots here if I’m not at the newspaper. it’s a small town.
and, I’m not sure what’s next, but I’m kicking around a few cans. if any will come to fruition, we’ll see, but I think they’re all not completely unbelievable. they’re grad school, Chicago, and overseas work, probably as an English teacher. but I have a little while to think about it; I’m not in a huge rush. at least a couple of months to think on this.
ok. that’s everything. I’m cracking “The Road.” it’s got me hooked. cannibals, man! in a post-apocalyptic Tennessee! nice!
