a fireball destroyed france today…

” … and Gerald Ford is dead.”

“Gerald Ford dead today, from an overdose of crack cocaine.”

“Tragedy today, as former President Gerald Ford was eaten by wolves. He was delicious.”

“Stunning news from Yorba Linda today, as Richard Nixon’s corpse climbed out of his grave and strangled Gerald Ford to death.”

You may have been ten years early, Saturday Night Live, but you’re being put to good use today.

Rest in peace, Gerald Ford.


thank god that’s over.

If I could sum up the way Christmas has left me feeling in one image, it would be this one:

it’s beginning to feel a little more like christmas.

I feel a bit better now than I did when I last posted. Within the past 48 hours, I have gotten paid, finished my Christmas shopping, got some nice presents from some nice people, crawled through a bathroom window during a lockout, ate some tasty Moroccan food, went to an empty bar with two of my bestest friends to drink and play dirty MadLibs, listened to Christmas music played in minor key, made biscuits and gravy, gone tanning, done laundry, wrapped gifts, and vacuumed. These things have all made me feel much more human.

Now all I have to do is shower and I’ll be set.


something is amiss.

Christmas is five days away, and I don’t know if it’s possible for me to feel any less of the holiday spirit than I do now.

I have never really had problems with getting into the holidays. I’ve always loved all the hoopla and hustle and bustle and nostalgia and warmth. But this year, something feels terribly hollow and void. I feel like Christmas could come and go with absolutely no recognition and I wouldn’t miss a thing. This makes me sad. I don’t know what’s wrong. I feel like completely breaking down but my eyes won’t even start to tear up.

When I was nine years old, my grandmother died a week short of Christmas. She was the reason I had such a happy, spoiled childhood. Christmas was always my favorite time of the year, and she was the one who made it magical. We tried to keep it going without her, but it just wasn’t the same. It’s this time of year I miss her most. I wish she was here. I wish that a lot of the time, really.

Anyway, this isn’t a post about my dead grandmother. I’m just trying to get past this terribly empty feeling. It has a lot to do with my financial situation (shitty) and the state of the world (even shittier). It can also be attributed to the weather (unseasonably, annoyingly warm) and my medication (sometimes makes me feel kind of numb). I don’t even want much for Christmas – it’s been the first year I didn’t actually make a list. But if I were to make one, make an honest list of what I’d want if anything were possible, this would be it:

freedom from debt and bills
the ability to feel happy again
my grandmother (but not as a zombie)
eradication of my bodily hangups
a studio full of windows
social welfare reform
a new digital camera
perfect eyesight
more patience
a bicycle
a cello
a cat


brief notes from the weekend.

This is my new favorite picture. It’s a graffiti tooth.

When I was in Chicago, I…

  • stayed in a hotel with a painted cow statue in the lobby.
  • overheard a homeless man have a seizure in the street below our room window.
  • forgot my coat.
  • just barely made it to the Gogol show because we were running “fashionably late.”
  • was given generous doses of whiskey by the bartenders.
  • danced. my. ass. off.
  • went walking by myself around Lincoln Park. it was beautiful until…
  • got lost and took a cab back to the hotel.
  • had the best complimentary breakfast ever.
  • watched the food network.
  • grossed my companions out with sweet potato fries. twice.
  • bought a new coat.
  • burned my mouth with a habanero pepper.
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    sad news.

    Peter Boyle

    I just learned that Peter Boyle died yesterday in New York. He was a wonderful actor (even though I was never an Everybody Loves Raymond fan), whom I particularly loved in While You Were Sleeping and, of course, Young Frankenstein. Strangely, he briefly appeared in a recent dream I had. Rest in peace, Peter.



    Scott¬†and I watched Saw, which I found surprisingly enjoyable. Surprisingly really enjoyable, actually, except for that damn Cary Elwes. I can’t stand him. He’s 75% of the reason that I have never liked The Princess Bride. Then we drank all our whiskey and listened to Lou Reed and loved on the couch and I mumbled a lot and then I passed out.

    Went with Lori and George to Ladyman’s Cafe for the last time. It’s a local diner that’s been around for fifty years and recently got bought out as part of the renovation scheme that’s taking over downtown Bloomington. It really sucks because all these great old places full of history and character that have been around for ages are disappearing and big, unnecessary offices are replacing them. Later in the evening,¬†Scott and I went to see The Fountain. It was an unbelievably beautiful, moving, amazing movie. I love Aronofsky’s films, and I think this is my favorite. Everything about it – the acting, the cinematography, the music – was completely exquisite. Unfortunately, as any of you who are my MySpace friends may have read, we were in a theater completely surrounded by obnoxious, immature assholes. It’s one thing to be loud and silly and bring beer to a movie. But for fuck’s sake – do that shit at something worthless, like Van Wilder or Turistas.

    Spent the day with Lori at her parents’ house for the annual Cookie Baking Day. I got introduced to this tradition last year, and it was so much damn fun that I had to come back. It’s not often that I get to wear an apron and make cookies in the shape of bicycles and dachshunds and aging transvestites (that last part is an inside, albeit true, joke).