Man, I used to update this thing all the time.  Maybe it’s time to start doing that again.  Yes, that seems about right.

I got my Fun Fun Fun Fest ticket today:

http://www.funfunfunfest.com/artists

I’m totally excited to see Devo, Snapcase, Mastadon, Bad Religion, The Hold Steady, Monotonix, The Gories, Cap’n Jazz, and the Dwarves.  I’m suspicious about Weird Al Yankovich, but I’ll probably catch a little bit of his set anyway.  It can’t be too bad, I don’t think (granted this is coming from the same guy who stood through an entire confusingly stupid hour of Andrew WK spoken word).

I turned 29 four days ago.  Yep, still getting older.  Here’s why I felt older today: In addition to Fun Fun Fun Fest, I’ll be seeing the Pixies and Guided By Voices in September.  These are all advance ticket purchases.  I felt old because there are tickets involved for things I’m not even going to do for another 2-3 months.  Look at all that planning ahead.  Fuckin’ old fart!

Things have been pretty chill for awhile.  I started working from home in February and I’ve been exercising a lot more.  I started running again.  I haven’t done a lot of that in the past few years and the running has started to feel really good to me again.  I like listening to music, focusing on the run and my pacing, and being out in the sun when I get the chance (if it’s really hot out, I run after 9pm when the sun goes down).  It feels good too.  I go five days a week and rest two days.  Usually I try to keep my running days as the same days that I’m working because it’s especially nice to leave the house for 30-40 minutes following work after being home all day long.   I may be spending a lot more time at home than I used to,  but I make sure to get out of the house as much as possible when I can.

http://www.myspace.com/acutecomplications

Lipstick Homicide, “Isn’t it Glorious?”, Public School RecordsRating: A+

Friday night I checked out the Bassturd show at Headhunter’s with Iowan acts Grism and Lipstick Homocide. I bought a cd from Lipstick Homocide and I’ve gotta give it two enthusiastic thumbs up.

0:52 AM Keef: harvey pekar died.

11:09 AM me: and R Crumb just keeps on Truckin’?11:10 AM Keef: hah  yes.

11:21 AM me: I wonder who will write American Splendor now  Michael Diana maybe?11:22 AM Keef: i would buy the shit out of that. me: Boiled Splendor

11:28 AM me: I hope Peter David does a run on American Splendor where the character of Harvey becomes a sympathetic character full of the same drives an emotions of regular joes instead of a big scary monster. Keef: At the end, he splits into “Green Harvey Pekar” and “Gray Harvey Pekar.”11:29 AM me: and Joyce dies of AIDS Keef: hahaha  that’s saved for the Marvel Graphic Novel  “Our AIDS Year.”11:33 AM me: I hope Harvey joins X-Force11:34 AM Keef: hahaha me: I bet he can whup Cable’s cyborg ass

Acute Complications

Talking to myself while switching between accounts & crunching numbers & doing math concerning my next two pay checks, I got flustered for a moment.  I spoke outloud only to reassure myself.

“It makes sense in the context of what we’re doing.”

Well the context is kind of weird in itself: we’re managing money.
We’re managing money?

We’re managing money!

Shit.  The world’s already ending isn’t it?

1.

I miss you
I miss you like all evolved life
misses the ocean floor
and crawling around on all fours
scavenging for meat instead of hunting
sustaining life on a diet of berries & nuts
living to a ripe old age of twenty
shitting in the woods & fucking like animals
worshipping the sun
creating a pantheon of gods
going to war time & time again
waxing philosophical
seeking enlightenment
and finally arriving at the conclusion of nothingness
I miss you that way
yes
exactly like that

2.

mouth agape watering
attentions directed toward
an end result
expecting
a reward
a promise
a pat on the behind
a job well done
there’s no present like the time
no time like the present
no time
no time
no time
except
all the time in the world
we’re all Pavlov’s Dog
when you
get
down to it

3.

masturbating in the shower
he cuts a fart at the exact moment
ejaculation’s sweet release
fires like a piston

water dribbles between his legs
the knees get weak
begin to tremble & shake
he sighs

the steamy air provides
contrast for the fetid odor
meshing with the scent
of ivory soap

I got a cellphone in August! The first cellphone I’ve had since October 2006. I swore them off for a long time and that wasn’t such a bad thing, I suppose. It did make me un-contactable at times, but I’ve never really had a problem with that, so it wasn’t a big deal to me. But I did it. I bit the bullet. I got a new phone.

Cellphones are science fiction in action. I like this. While sticking to my role as a perpetual cheap-ass, I did not go whole hog and spend an entire paycheck on an Iphone, Blackberry, or Palm whatever the hell it is you kids are spending your money on. I went for the free phone that had the most impressive qualities. In this instance, it was the Motorola Rokr E8. It features a digital camera, mp3 player, 3 gig storage space (when adding an SD Memory card), mobile internet, e-mail, instant messaging, a quaint blast from the past- FM radio, and a bunch of other interesting shit that my Grandparents…nay my Parents, would never have expected to see crammed onto a telephone. Oh yeah…it takes phone calls too. Looking over my used minutes in a month it’s clear that I am not doing a whole lot of that with this sucker.

But the MP3 player has become my favorite little part of this new toy. While I’ve started in awe of several friends IPod’s over the past few years, I still haven’t quite gotten to the point where I’ve decided I’m going to drop coin on one. My cellphone has made me realize the benefits of portable music players even more so. But I don’t really want to sit around talking about the phone itself for this entire blog. I’d rather talk about what I’ve been listening to on it.

At first, I was only loading a few songs by each artist I wanted on the phone for fear of filling it’s memory too quickly. However, this was not acceptable to me after about a week as I really am, when you get down to it, an album listener. I want to hear the whole damn thing, most of the time. Occasionally I’ll shuffle, but usually, if I’ve taken the time to pick out an album, I want to hear all of it. So, while this by no means covers everything I have in the way of MP3’s saved to my phone (I could have used up half the space on it with Mountain Goats & Hold Steady/Lifter Puller songs), it is a comprehensive list of all the full albums (or EP’s in some cases) I currently have on it:

100% Synthetic- The Honor System
2112- Rush
A Gentle Evening With Townes Van Zandt- Townes Van Zandt
Add It Up (1981-1993)- the Violent Femmes
Bee Thousand- Guided By Voices
Blanket Warm- Lullaby For The Working Class
Boombox by Bedside- Samuel Locke-Ward
Brighten the Corners- Pavement
Broken Star- the Broadways
Bushido Karoake- Mayday
Buzz or Howl Under the Influence of Heat- the Minutemen
Cerebral Revolver- the Mousetrap
Dear You- Jawbreaker
Digi Snacks- RZA as Bobby Digital
Dignified Sissy- STNNNG
End Hits- Fugazi
Excellent Italian Greyhound- Shellac
Farm- Dinosaur Jr
Fiat Lux Tenibris- the Stay Awake
Goddamnit!- Alkaline Trio
Heavy Hands- Ladyfinger (ne)
I Never Even Asked For A Light- Lullaby For The Working Class
If You’re Feeling Sinister- Belle & Sebastian
In on the Kill Taker- Fugazi
Isolation Drills- Guided By Voices
KIDS: Soundtrack for the Movie KIDS
Left and Leaving- the Weakerthans
Live in the Studio- Joe Jack Talcum
Ok Computer- Radiohead
Pro Tools- GZA
Reunion Tour- the Weakerthans
Room Temperature- Simon Joyner
Sacrilege, Treason, Treachery & Thyme- Samuel Locke-Ward
Single File- the Honor System
Take a Look Inside- the Folk Implosion
The Sunset Tree- the Mountain Goats (also includes vinyl only version- “Come Come To The Sunset Tree”)
Trust- Low
Tweez- Slint
Wild America- Wild America
Wowee Zowee- Pavement
You’d Prefer an Astronaut- Hum
Zen Arcade- Husker Du

One of my co-workers posted a link to THIS website in our work chat and I was immediately reminded of the scourge of my early tech support years: the Netpliance I-Opener. There’s also a bizarre blog from a user of the Go Computer that reads like the worst ad copy you’ll ever see.

Oh, but we’re not done yet. I was interested in learning more about First Street, the company who makes this product and found a veritable gold mine of Senior Citizen themed products.

The Little Sleeper

Which as a sleep machine, boasts of having “3 hours of clinically proven music for sleep”.

There’s everyone’s favorite Cell Phone too:

The Jitterbug

and an entire catalogue of Mobility Solutions- you know, Chairlifts & whatnot.

But this one… oh this one, totally blew my fucking mind:

A Steel Drum

Which boasts that it’s “Non-violent, non-video, non-computer entertainment”.

Because everyone knows about the violent entertainment that Senior Citizens are constantly subjected to!

FLASH FLOOD (rated R)
Potentially starring Kevin Costner, Michelle Pfeiffer, Paul Giametti, William Shatner, with James Cromwell

After a small town preacher (James Cromwell) condemns the city of Kansas City for becoming a “new American Sodom” the rains ironically begin to fall for 40 days and nights. A family man (Kevin Costner) and his suicidal wife (Michelle Pfeiffer) try to rekindle their withering love affair while their basement begins to fill with water and her wrists consecutively begin to open. Rain Historian Greg Witherspoon (Paul Giametti) begins tracking the history of Kansas City rain storms and fears that this may be the one that God promised would never happen again. Whoring drunk Mayor Winston Carlisle (William Shatner) dares the rain to keep on pouring and provides comic relief.

Oscar Potential: Will not contend with Another Holocaust Movie. In this instance, Another Holocaust Movie being a summer comedy by Friedberg & Seltzer.

Early Winter (rated PG)
Potentially starring Miley Cyrus, Dylan and Cole Sprouse, and Raven-Symoné

Shortly after the 4th of July, a nation wide blizzard covers the United States in snow at an unprecendented level since the last ice age. Naturally, this means school is called off for a snow day starting shortly after Labor Day. With this much snow on the ground, it’s not killing anyone to wear white! School Girl Jessie Peterson (Miley Cyrus) and her two identical boyfriends (Dylan and Cole Sprouse) come of age in a family friendly musical film about what might happen if the entire United States was covered in snow for a year. There are snowball fights, forts, and sled rides aplenty. An embittered young woman (Raven-Symoné) comes to grips with her past while serving as the musical narrator.

Oscar Potential: Nil
Sequel Potential: HIGHLY FUCKING LIKELY
Merchandising Potential: CHA-CHING

SMOG (rated PG-13)
Potentially starring Nicholas Cage, Tommy Lee Jones, Jodie Foster, Bruce Willis, Uma Thurman, Julianne Moore, and RZA

2029 Los Angeles is nothing like the Los Angeles we all know and love today. The sky is never blue and the air is scarcely breathable. In the mornings, the Morgue Unit of the LAPD removes the corpses of suffocated hookers from Hollywood Boulevard by the dump truck load. Enter Tommy Stockwell (Nicholas Cage) an Air Filtration Specialist going head to head with Captain of Industry and Major League Polluter Benjamin Briggs-Tarry (Tommy Lee Jones). Stockwell fears the air will kill everyone within 3 weeks, while Briggs-Tarry is only motivated by the almighty dollar. Three Eco-Terrorists (Jodie Foster, Uma Thurman, and RZA) try to sneak their way into Briggs-Tarry’s compound to ignite a “clean air bomb”, while grizzled and embittered detectives Harrison (Bruce Willis) and Murphy (Julianne Moore) cruise around town just trying to make sure everyone is breathing.

Oscar Potential: Maybe, and only maybe, if we replace Nicholas Cage with Will Smith.
Sequel Potential: *shrug*
Merchandising Potential: Action Figures, oh yeah!

This arrived in my inbox this morning. I was greatly confused:

from: vneal@*********.com
subject: CWWE Training

Hello, LCES Teachers—

Thanks for a great day. I really enjoyed my time with you Rowdy Ladies and Gentlemen and look forward to returning on November 19.

I have attached those handouts I promised. (Be kind in evaluating my expertise in screenshots and arrows and such.) Remember, if you need or want anything else, let me know. And be sure to email me with your questions.

Valerie Neal
Educational Consultant
Curriculum Advantage
Cell: 601-***-****
vneal@*********.com

from:Bill Latham
subject: RE: CWWE Training

Dear Valerie,

We’ve got a problem here. A big problem. If problems were game animals and you and I were big buck hunters, we’ve got a ten point sumbitch in the room that we’re gonna need extra ammo to take down. I’ll shoot it dead if you would be as so kind to slit the bastard’s throat and let it bleed out. You can even keep it’s rack for yr wall..

That said, let’s get down to business.

Where the hell is Desoto county?

Who the hell are all these people on this mailing list? I’ve scoured it seven or eight times successively and do not recognize a single name. Also, I am not a teacher.

I’m sure there is another Bill Latham that this mail was intended for. I’m sure he’s in Desoto county in fact, judging from the list of addresses that came with this mail. I’m sure he’d love to get his e-mail and I’d be kind enough to forward it along given the opportunity.

I don’t have any further comments or metaphors to spew. Pardon my vitriol.

-Bill Latham
Austin, TX
“My name is Legion: for we are many.”

from:vneal@*********.com
subject: RE:RE:CWWE Training

Bill, Bill, Bill—

You scared the pooh out of me!!!!! I trained at that school yesterday on a web product and the beginning of your email made me think the whole product had disappeared from the web or something. I’m a tired, old woman. I don’t need the stress!!!!!!!

Anyway, sorry about the mistake. I must have put in or left out something from MY Bill Latham’s address. I’ll try to do better.

By the way, Desoto County is a lovely area of MS just below Memphis, TN. Part of it is the flat, fertile land of the MS Delta and the rest is soft, rolling hills. Not too far from Austin; you should check it out if you’re ever over this way.

Sorry to have disturbed you.

Valerie Neal
Educational Consultant
Curriculum Advantage
Cell: Cell: 601-***-****
vneal@*********.com

The father ate out
the mother’s asshole
on the night the boy was
conceived.

His conception was received warmly
a biological soup
left to simmer in his
mother’s pot nine months.

He entered this world
like a tapeworm and
each new year was
another passing segment.

Southern Man and I are friends; at least temporarily.  It’s Tuesday night in my neighborhood bar and Southern Man is already red faced drunk and expounding on his theories to whomever will listen or at least take notice.  That’s where I come in.  The other patrons are drinking and trying to get laid.  I’m just drinking and watching the clock hands change position.  The beer is cold.  Southern Man interjects something like “I’ll tell you what!” and takes off like a marathon runner in another direction with his story.  Trying to keep up is a bit of a burden.

Southern Man is skinny as a rail.  I wonder if I was ever as thin as Southern Man, even in childhood.  I doubt it.  He wears a mustache unironically and his neck is literally red.  He wears cowboy boots and wrangler jeans with an old work shirt bearing the emblem of a trucking company right above the right breast pocket.  A crumpled soft pack of cigarettes protrudes from the left pocket.  Southern Man exclaims something quite loudly in an excited manner between pulls on a pint of Lonestar beer.  I am unsure of what.  His tone sounds important, but his enunciation leaves something to be desired, let alone identified.

Southern Man tells me a story, but I forget the details immediately.  I forget the characters.  I forget the conflict.  I’m not really listening anyway, so much as I am humoring Southern Man, but I make like I’m paying attention.  I nod when he pauses.  I laugh when Southern Man laughs.  I interject here and there “really?!” or “you’re kidding!!” or “Oh wow!!” and Southern Man proudly nods.  Were there a quiz at the end of this story, I would be in trouble.  But Southern Man is not an educator and this bar is not a class room, except maybe in lessons on how not to live.  Such is life.

The clock hands reposition themselves like a football team and every time I look away it seems they’ve gained another ten yards on the night towards the touch down, or at least the end of the fourth quarter.  I look away from the clock and Southern Man.  The barroom has grown more crowded, I more drunk, and Southern Man is still rambling away, but only God knows about what.  The background noise in the room is cluttered and disorienting.  Southern Man continues to ramble away at my right.  I stare into the bubbles of my beer.

I feel transcendent.

I feel displaced.

I feel removed.

I feel as though my current situation and current location are but a dream.

I feel unaffected.

I feel apart from it all.

I feel like I am floating.

I realize that I am not, in fact, floating.  My legs have merely fallen asleep on the bar stool.  I tap my feet to the floor and the tickling sensation of pins and needles overtakes them.  I laugh to myself and stare back at the clock and it’s progress.  The Bartender calls a time out of sorts: “Would you like another beer?”

“Yes, please.”

Southern Man has grown quieter.  His face has grown redder.  His arms are crossed on the counter top and his beer is nearing empty.  He belches loudly and I swear that I can see his mustache bounce.  His eyes are half opened and when he finally speaks it sounds more like the whinny of a horse than it does the voice of a man.  The Bartender isn’t having this.  I turn my eyes back to the clock and sip my fresh beer while the inaudible background noises mesh with the barely audible foreground ones.

“There’s music in all of this, somewhere,” I think.

The Bartender has taken Southern Man’s keys away from him and called up a taxi cab.  The bar patrons are pairing off for the night and a band is taking the stage.  I acknowledge the progress of the clock and make my way towards the door.

Southern Man hollers something, but I don’t look back.

The morning commute is awash in scattered cellphone conversations, the waft of fresh hairspray, and the thick overbearing scent of recently applied perfume and cologne.

Still drunk, the man plugs his last three quarters into the fare box and stumbles towards a seat.  He smells of a weeks worth of B.O. and three nights worth of cheap vodka.  He plops down in an aisle seat next to a pretty, young, bank teller who can’t even mask her disgust for the sake of civility let alone kindness.

She stares out the window, hands folded in her lap neatly, whispering a silent prayer at every stop light- “Just ten blocks.  Just nine blocks.  Just eight blocks,” ETC.

The drunk passes out.  His snores drown the cellphone conversations like kittens in a tied off trash bag tossed into a river.   The bank teller stares at her watch desperately as she now feels imprisoned in her window seat on the bus.  The cell door is a stinking, sleeping man, blocking her escape through the aisle.  The time is 8:37 AM.

Red light.

“Just five blocks.  Just four blocks.  Just three blocks.”

Red light.

A sharp, odorous, piercing scent fills the air; one of mustard gas and ammonia.  The bank teller clasps her hands over her nose and mouth.  A large wet spot grows in the lap of the sleeping drunk’s dirty blue jeans.

Red light.

“Just two blocks.  Just two blocks.  Just two blocks.”

As the  bus was pulling out into the street from my first morning stop (21st and Guadalupe), it stopped suddenly as a pack of cyclists came from behind and sped past in a swarm thick like flies.  One of the cyclists who had been in the lead when the bus began to pull out slammed on his breaks and screeched to a halt to yell at the bus driver.

“You almost hit me…you…you…you…YOU FUCKING BUS!” he screamed, proceeding to punch the side of the bus a good three or four times between further swears.

It’s going to be the 52nd day of 100+ degree heat for the summer.  People are turning into wild animals.

Yesterday I braved the DPS office for 4.5 hours to get a new ID card.  I haven’t had a Texas ID card yet, and after almost 3 years and a now expired Iowa card, it’s been time to take care of business.  The DPS office is truly an exercise in restraint.  One has to be very calm to not succumb to the mentality of lines.  A woman behind me wasn’t so lucky.  She had driven her homeschooled daughter into town to get a learner’s permit.  She had neglected to bring some of the proper forms and the woman from the DPS office who was floating through the front row of the line to make sure people had all proper forms informed her she’d have to come back.  She threw a fit.

“PEOPLE IN THE CITY ARE SO IGNORANT!” she told her daughter right after the woman from the DPS office handed her a sheet of paper with the items she was missing circled in red ink.

Yesterday, I went tubing on the Comal river in New Braunfels with Barb, Keef, Dan, Melanie, Fread, Peggy, Felipe, and Laney.  I’d never been on that river before, as we usually go to San Marcos for tubing so that was a bit of an adventure in and of itself.  This morning I woke up and my joints were sore as shit.  I’m pretty sure these two events are somehow related.

The Comal was a much more abusive ride than the San Marcos river because of their “tube chutes” designed to help propel you down the river even faster.  It’s quite easy to fly out of your tube at these sections of the river, lose your beer, hat, sandals, etc.  Anyway, after the second chute I fell out of my tube and was getting back in when part of our gang and their cooler clotheslined me from behind, knocked me on my ass, and dragged me with the floats for a few feet.

I don’t think I’ve shouted “MOTHER FUCKERS” that many times successively in my entire life.  Especially at my friends.  Jesus.  I guess it was probably pretty funny.

Anyway, once we got beyond the tube chutes, the ride was kosher.  I’d offer deeper insight except marathon drinking & hanging out in the sun has a way of making you not remember all the gory details. Regardless, it’s still how I prefer to spend hot weekend days.  Afterwards we went to Ruby’s for BBQ.