rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I’m gonna try and not write every other night. I’m on vacation. so why the fuck isn’t the blog on vacation? go and spend time with family, blog, jesus. you’re so fucking clingy. but.

my uncle opined tonight about the origins of salami.
back in old Italy, they usedta breeda the piggsa. and they’d have a big ol’ buck pig, and his job was to fuck all of the female pigs and make baby pigs. and by the end of his run, he’d always be a tough old peice of meat.
so what they’d do is they’d cut his testicles off …
(and here’s where my brother jumps in and says, “why’s it always gotta be about the testicles?”)
… and they fatten the motherfucker up for two years, because once he loses his balls he stops moving around as much and it creates a chemical imbalance, and they let all of that succulent meat on him marbelize.
then they eat his ass.
and that’s where salami comes from.

coming to you live from Indiana.

I broke out the computer at mom’s house, and lo and behold, I can pirate the internet off of someone’s nearby wireless connection. but only when I sit in my grandmother’s room at the end of the house overlooking the ravine. the people across the way must have the network I’m on.
grandma’s room has matching furniture. we’ve got a chest of drawers, a dresser, couple of nightstands. bust of Jesus, an icon. palm fronds. and, because the heat doesn’t travel very well to this end of the house, I’ve got three blankets and a mattress you can plug into the wall for warmth. this is my room for the duration of the stay. or the couch. so I’ll take the bed.

I left VA this morning at 6 am, after Your Woman at City Hall was gracious enough to stay up with me all night and then give me a ride to the airport. it was a prop plane out of Charlottesville, which was terrifying – the more I fly, the less I like it – until I fell asleep reading the New York Times before takeoff. I was more beat then I had thought.
I had a layover in Detroit. layovers  blow. but you ever been to Detroit Wayne? I think that’s what the airport is called – it’s got a walkway between two terminals which is something else. very colorful, illuminated and moving all at the same time. let’s us see if there’s a picture of it online … yes, there is:

who says there’s nothing in Detroit?

Mar picked me up at Midway. while waiting for Va and Mike and kid to arrive, we went to a Mexican grocery store and loaded up on produce. at this place, you can get a pound of tangerines for 88 cents. and, well, that’s fucking awesome.

I’ve done nothing today but watch television, sleep and eat. but no, that’s not right: we exchanged a few gifts. Anna got a lot of loot. Dora the Explorer tea set, fingerpaints, a saucer sled. I got a tin of Pepperidge Farm cookies and something called a ‘Squeezeit’ that is supposed to ‘maximize your toothpaste tube’s output’. so Anna showed me up.  fuckin’ A. 
later, Your Man on Flint Lake, Uncle Bill, he came by to and gave me a bunch of weightlifting advice. he was also the only person today to tell me the moustache looks good (I’ve got a moustache), so that was a second wind. but I’m still running on about four hours down over the last 36, and I need to crash hard. there are big things are coming down the pike …
I got a job interview through Your Man in Indianapolis on Monday morning. I am borrowing the hubcapless Lumina and driving down tomorrow afternoon to hang out, play Halo 3 on a huge television and talk about my prospects and his opinions.
so please wish me luck. gotta stay fresh with this interviewing tip, at least.