The Convention Continues

It's a bit after noon o'clock. I got up just before 7:30 and spent a while sipping coffee and chatting with Stevie before hittin gthe shower. We joked about Bush’s reaction to Osama bin Laden’s latest tirade. All the while he thrust poll results in my face which showed, by-in-large, that Kerry was ahead or had closed the gap. It will be so incredibly nice to be able to wake up and spend some time in the morning without having poll data shoved in my face. A scant few days remain!

Actually, before Stevie awoke, I was granted a short respite. I checked my e-mail and, much to my chagrin, it looks like my interview with Ian Anderson is not to be. However, there remains a chance that I’ll be able to chat with Andrew Giddings, Tull’s keyboard player. I think that would be a hoot! Perhaps I could drag him to a tavern, buy him a few beers, and the dirt on the band. Alright, I know I’m not fooling anyone – there is no dirt to be had on Jethro Tull – but I would still be fun to get the lowdown on one of my favorite musical groups from the inside. Plus, I just dig rapping with musiciians. Although they make me extremely jealous that they have all the ability and I have none, it’s still neat to be able to bask in the glow of those who can create art that moves me so.

Toad Hill stalwarts and friends of Downtown, Dan & Jen, are here at Ancora with their newborn. In addition, Miss April, or perhaps more correctly, Mrs. April, was just here trying desperately to contain a gaggle of young children with an unidentified male. It never ceases to amaze me how my attraction to a womyn decreases when I see her with kids. It’s not that physical attraction decreases but rather I find them less desirable in more over-arching manner. This is certainly not to say that I find motherhood distasteful or any such thing. It is just that kids activate a libidinal warning klaxon within my brain signaling danger. More than likely there’s already a man in the picture or, if there isn’t, she’s looking for commitment, and, in general, casual sex could is easier found elsewhere. This is not always the case – witness The Dulcinea – but I prefer to walk nulliparous pastures.


I just had a nice chat with Dan, Jen, and Dan’s mother, whose name escapes me. Their son is so cute! If memory serves, he’s only a couple weeks old. They had spent part of the morning at the Farmer’s Market. We talked about parenthood, the convention, as well as the impending election. Although I don’t know them very well, I find them to be exceptionally nice folks. Dan is pretty mellow while Jen is more gregarious and always seems to be smiling.

As for the morning bit of the convention, Matthew Rothschild’s speech was the highlight. While I read The Progressive, of which he is editor, and have heard him on the radio, it was an altogether different experience to see and hear him speak in person.

He is fairly tall giving him an authoritative air but he also has this very welcoming, avuncular demeanor. Beneath the pleasantness and between the humorous anecdotes were the bricks of a philippic against Dubya and his injection of religion into our secular government. As a speaker, he has a great ethos and is incredibly articulate. He was able to enrage one moment and then have us laughing the next.

Robyn Blumner followed. This past summer she wrote an editorial for the St. Petersburg Times entitled, “I’m An Athiest – So What?” which I had encountered on the web. So it was interesting to see her in person and get the full story on the article and what prompted her to write it. Apparently the city council members there take turns in having someone say a prayer before sessions. One councilman brought in an atheist who gave a short speech and this highly offensive to various members of the council. This unnerved Blumner, how felt that the paper should write about it. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the editorial boards didn’t find the matter of any import and so it was left to her to pen a screed.

Susan Jacoby, author of Freethinkers: A History of American Secularism. While she was quite animated, she read her cue cards rather hastily which contrasted greatly from her of appearanceappearance on NOW with Bill Moyers. I suppose this made her come across as more of a firebrand and left little or no doubt in my mind that she doesn’t take shit from anyone.

At one point during her speech, she reiterated a point made by most of the speakers: that atheists need to standup for themselves and be more vocal, that we need to come out of the closet, so to speak. For some reason, this seemed especially poignant and moving when she made the remarks. I looked around the room and wondered who among us will do more than merely applaud the sentiment and actually stand and face up to the challenge.

Surveying the people around me, I noticed again what was obvious yesterday night: the vast majority of people at the convention are well into middle age or older. Of course being 50+ doesn’t mean that you can’t kick ass & take names or that you can’t be vocal. It was just that I got the impression that these people were looking for someone younger to do the dirty work. They would be supportive but they weren’t going to be doing much leg-work. I’m not sure why I got this impression. Mayhaps it was just a case of malicious addition: demographics + stereotypes. I’m not trying to rip on the older crowd but it was a bit disheartening to find so few people my age there. The ortgeist of the place just wasn’t my thing so I’m considering skipping out on tonight’s dinner.

For now, I’ve got to return to hear a lawyer speak as well as Peter Singer, a philosopher at Princeton.

Giggle, Giggle

I am just so fucking giddy! I’ve returned from night 1 of the FFRF Convention aglow having met Steven Pinker. He gave a speech which he followed up by taking questions. Then he signed books. I took advantage of this to A) get my copy of The Blank Slate autographed and B) have my picture taken with him.



I am sooo gonna print it out and frame it. Another neat thing about the night was that I learned quite a bit about Anne Nicol Gaylor, FFRF’s founder and president. I didn’t know she was a feminist activist who played an instrumental role in overturning a Wisconsin law restricting the sale of birth control. She is quite a woman. Tomorrow I get to meet Peter Singer, amongst others. Hopefully I’ll run into that blonde who sat in front of me for about a minute tonight before running off to another seat. She had a nice ass, lemme tell ya.

There is an outside chance that I’ll be able to interview Ian Anderson when Jethro Tull comes to town next week. I e-mailed their U.S. press agent asking if it would be possible:

Hi,

It's sort of breaking my heart to pass this time around, because I went through parts of your website and it's extremely smart. In reviewing it, it's obvious that Ian's perfect topic-wise for you and the other guys won't do.

Ian doesn't do a lot of websites, tho'. Every few years I get him to do two or three of the really well known sites. In my experience I've never heard of your site but I'd wager it's got a following.

Let me spend a little more time with your site and try to figure out what to do.

Are you planning to go to the Tull show in Madison? Also what's your phone number?

Anne

Hopefully it’ll pan out.

Cock, Suck, and Fuck Are Not Bad Words

Ticket for Jay Farrar…must…be…purchased…

I think I have found another customer for TH: the AM fraulein at Ancora. I ran into Jessie there this morning and she overheard our conversation. She said that she had been to that café across the street whose-name-must-not-be-spoken and I swiftly reprimanded her.

They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home
Then they'll stone ya when you're tryin’ to slick your bone

My desire to fornicate with her is intense. Let me rephrase that: I really wanna slip her the Polish sausage in the natural casing. As Eddie Cochran would say, that Kobieta is something else. But I’ll be content with The Dulcinea – for now. I mean, I’ve already volunteered to help fund her birth control. I’m just too nice. While she’s not my girlfriend, I still feel obligated to pitch in towards it. After all, I can forego those pleasure-dampening condoms and get to not be a father out of the deal.

Speaking of her, she came (hehe) over a couple nights ago. I was engaged with watching Frontline and my mind was preoccupied with politics and great dislike for Dubya. Honestly, I really wanted to watch the whole thing but with The Dulcinea’s hand in my underwear I quickly got into another mood altogether. Before long we were up in my room and she somehow lost her clothes. It’s rather fun to be clothed while she isn’t. I get this odd sense of control like, “Ha! Ha! You’re wearing clothes and I’m not so you have to submit to my every touch, caress, knead, etc.” From there it was off to graze the sweet bottom grass. The foreplay got me quite excited and I really got into it. My head was bobbing and weaving and gave my tongue those few extra foot-pounds of energy per second, per second. Basking in the afterglow, she pondered aloud if I could get hard again before I fell asleep. Alas, I dashed all of her hopes and proceeded to fall asleep. But not for long.

I was awoken from my post coital slumbers by her hand between my legs. That’s one thing I really like about The Dulcinea: she doesn’t fuck around when it comes to fucking. If she wants to be rogered roundly, she doesn’t let a little thing like the fact that I’m unconscious stop her. She stole into my house during the wee hours one morning after she’d had an evening at the Weary Traveler. (How fortuitous that we don't generally lock our door.) Shortly after she entered my room, I entered her. The odd thing about times like these is my single-mindedness. Once aroused from sleep, the only part of my brain that’s working is the part that thrusts my hips. My mind is in a haze and I barely know when or where I am. Intellectual matters are swept aside. I almost don’t know who I am or who she is. All I do know at that point is to fuck. A wonderful product of evolution am I.

I had fun with you last night - I had forgotten how you react to being touched in the middle of the night, you gasp as if you've been burned, and then moan so deliciously.

OK, I forgot that I gasp and moan too.

Udzielenie Wdzieznosci

Much to my relief, my workday slowly grinds to a close. Only another half hour or so left. It was an unexciting day and I'll be glad when it's over.

The highlights have been A) the flawless performance of my transmission and B) reading The Story of English. I suppose another highlight was the free cuppa joe I got at Ancora. The baristas there are a bunch of hoopy froods. Regarding the first: i got my car back yesterday evening. The cab was about 20 minutes late which was enormously frustrating considering the fact that I called them an hour before I actually needed a lift thinking that such an advance notice would ensure timely execution. So much for that theory. I got to the shop just after they closed but was still able to grab the car. Hastily (and nervously) I pulled out onto E. Wash. I was delighted to find that the gears shifted correctly and smoothly. If I may quote The Boss, who was here in Madison today, she's hummin' like a turbojet. Sorry. "Open All Night" popped into my head.

As I remarked above, my current read is quite good. Either I was an etymologist in a former life or the combination of curiosity & several years of Latin classes has endowed me with a fascination about language. I just find discovering the origins of words to be endlessly cool. And there's plenty of that. E.g. - The Latin word evangelium was transliterated into Old English as god-spell which eventually morphed into gospel. Yeah, I know this is trivial but I could read this stuff for ages and not get bored with it all. I'm getting a bit giddy with anticipation of reading the section on The Great Vowel Shift. What this says about me, I don't wanna know.

Aside from learning about the origins of words, there's also plenty of history involved, which is another joy. You've got the Anglii, the Saxons, and the Jutes storming into the British Isles causing the Celts to take refuge behind the Cambrian Mountains. There's also the Vikings wanting a piece of the pie running roughshod over the poormonks at Lindisfarne.

I found out today that I’ll be working the Friday of Thanksgiving week. This has thrown into doubt any trip to Chicago for holiday on my part. Driving down for a few hours and then driving back to Madison holds no thrill for me. Maybe I shall. But I’ve got time to decide. One thing that tempts me to stay here in town is the chance for some good old introspection. You see Thanksgiving, although not a particularly significant holiday when compared to, say, Christmas, is one that has a lot of meaning for me. And this year will be my first without my father. While there have been many firsts without my father alive these past seven months since his death, Thanksgiving looks to be significant. This day was a favorite of my dad’s. He was an atheist and so he was never very fond of religious holidays. But Thanksgiving allowed him to don the culinary white lab coat and be mad scientist for a day.

His holy grail was an elusive elixir he called “The Perfect Gravy”. It was of just the right consistency with exactly balanced flavors. Of course, he never found the formula but it was all in watching him try. A Jacob’s Ladder sitting on the counter would have been the perfect backdrop. He would be found hunched over the stove diligently stirring a pan of turkey drippings bolstered with some stock for what seemed like a longer span of time than it took the turkey to cook. As a kid, it drove me nuts as I wanted to chow down. As an adult, it gave time to sit around sipping wine and chatting. Over the years, the location and dramatis personae changed, but the filial enrapture of watching the old man in pursuit of his holy grail didn’t. Well, not until a couple years ago.

When my stepmom fell ill with cancer a few years ago, Thanksgiving changed. While there was a dark cloud overhead, we still managed to be festive, to be thankful that Joni was still alive. After her death, Thanksgiving became an ordeal. An ordeal of dealing with a grieving father who drank himself into stupors of tears. Those fourth Thursdays of November in 2001 & 2002 are days I’d rather forget. Last year my dad was living in Louisiana and I here in Wisconsin. We didn’t spend it together but we did talk on the phone. His death in March laid to rest the possibility of spending another holiday together.

I’ve been threatening to take a day and dedicate to some kind of remembrance of my father. For whatever reason, I haven’t gotten around to doing that but I think Thanksgiving would provide an opportune moment to do so. Stevie and Becca will be with family in Portage so I’ll have the house to myself. I can just sit around and look at pictures -- think of him. (And of him in me.)

After finishing The Power of Black Music earlier this week, I had this urge to explore my heritage. The author was black and the book was obviously much more than a mere academic exercise for him. It was about his culture, about his people – it was about him. Before that, I had read Bill Malone’s Don’t Get Above Your Raisin’ so my brain box was inundated with ideas of culture, how it changes, and notions of how it gives a sense of place. It got me thinking of trying to find some discipline and actually undertake an exploration of a bit of my heritage. I’m a bit of a mutt so I would have to choose one of four bloodlines: German, English, Ruthenian (Rusyn), and Polish. Right now I’m leaning towards all things Polish. Not only do I already have an album of Polish folk music, but that Polish deli opened up on Monroe Street. It would be fun to explore the music more thoroughly and expand my Polish culinary bounds beyond pierogi, bigos, and various sweet treats such as kolacky. Plus I could avail myself of the opportunity to learn a spot of the language. After all, I do have a Polish for Beginngers type book. Perhaps, after I learn some conversational Polish, I can head down to Chicago and try it out on those hotties at all those delis and bakeries on Milwaukee Street by my mom’s place. No doubt I’d get a lot of short red roses. I suppose this would also mean that I’d have to start reading Stanislaw Lem – just not in the original quite yet.

No One Stops to See the Colors

The Dulcinea will be coming over later tonight as she has this craving to give me a blowjob. Who am I to argue? I finally got to meet the blonde hottie at work - Sarah. I get to print reports for her tomorrow if BJ is unavailable. And I finally found out the AM hottie's name at Ancora.
And April is summer-bound
And February's blue

I Should Be Reading

I got to meet Fred! While I was walking home, a familiar black VW pulled up and I caught sight of a hound’s head sticking out of the rear window. The Caffeinatrix and Henry were heading out to the dog park to let the hounds play in the last gasps of daylight. Billie was a bit jealous so she pushed her way to the window and generously licked my face. Got home and ate some leftover pork roast. I made about a gallon of gravy so when the pork is all eaten, my dinners will consist of gravy over toast. Well, that an gumbo. I have andouille waiting in the frig and I can’t let it go bad.

Weekend was alright. The highlight was undoubtedly getting laid. It was one of the loudest orgasms I’ve had in a while. After rogering The Dulcinea for however long it was, I told her to get her ass on top. I did my best to stop thrusting my hips and let her do the work. She said, “I want you to come inside me” and I did. It was a shame that she had to go shortly after that because I was left extremely horny all afternoon without her available for seconds.

My current read, The Power of Black Music, has taken a turn for the very interesting. All of the introductory material is out of the way and he’s laid the foundation of his argument. Now we’re into the meat of the matter – the music itself. Now we’re tracking the history of music and seeing how all of the material from the first couple chapters relates to music with which I am familiar. Sitting at Ancora during my lunch hour, I felt this great desire to listen to ragtime. The chapter was full of references to Scott Joplin and his “Maple Leaf Rag” as well as his opera, Treemonisha.

My reading was interrupted periodically by my grabbing a sip of coffee and ogling the baristas. At one point while I was reading, I saw something moving and looked up just in time to see the morning barista with whom I chat zipping by and flashing a weird look at me. I should introduce myself to her sometime. She asked me this morning if I was a student. I guess anyone who reads a lot is mistaken for a student these days. At lunch, one of the hot blondes was manning the coffee urns. (You can’t swing a dead cat in that joint without hitting a schöne blonde Frauen.) I told her that my coffee wasn’t feeling so fresh. Do you suppose baristas mind a little bawdy humor in the afternoon? There’s this triumvirate of blonde womyn there that draw my gaze and I think there might even be a new one. One is just interminably cute, one has the face of a supermodel, while the last has an ass so sweet, it’d make your eyes water. They’re all just swell in my book and just the briefest smile from any of them helps inject a little sunlight into my otherwise cloudy office-ridden day.

Speaking of the office, today wasn’t horrible. I actually had a fairly lengthy chat with BJ in which we shared our affection for dive bars. In addition, I met Ed outside for a square and he related some humorous tales from his days as a health inspector. Someone actually labeled him in a memo as “the spawn of Satan”. That’s quality humor. He wouldn’t let the meat from a truck whose refrigeration had gone out 2 days previously be processed. Instead it was taken away to be rendered and made into – you guessed it – makeup. So, the next time you gals are smearing on the paint, think of those poor animals who sacrificed their rotting corpses for you.

One thing I meant to do but neglected was to look up a book called Creating Shapely Fiction or something similar. It was recommended to me by Madison’s own Heather Skyler. I figure she’s a published author, she teaches writing – whom better to ask? I suppose I can do that tomorrow. For now, I’ve got reading to do.

The Onion Taken Seriously??

Here's a funny ditty about how people are taking stories from The Onion as the gospel truth. I knew about the gaffe by the Chinese newspaper and the Harry Potter thingy, but there are others in here that I never knew about such as the Al-Queda telemarketing bit.

Friday's Meandering Missive

I got the skinny on this deli from the Cap Times:

Madison's first Polish deli -- at least in modern times -- opened this month in Monroe Street's Knickerbocker Place, across from Bluephies and next to Yirgalem Ethiopian restaurant.

At least five Polish-speaking customers have stopped in each day since she's opened, said a surprised Izabela Kozik, 31, who added, "We didn't know how big the Polish community was."

Kozik had been planning the store for four months, ever since her parents, Alex and Janina Kozik, moved to Madison. The elder Koziks operated a store in Trenton, N.J., for many years called Polish Deli.

The Madison store, Alex Polish American Deli, is named for Kozik's father and her 6-year-old son, who share the name Alex.

The family is originally from Tychy, a town in southern Poland. They emigrated in 1988 to Greece before settling in New Jersey. Izabela Kozik moved to Madison in April 2003 after hearing good things about Wisconsin from an uncle who lived in Janesville.

Of Trenton, she said, "Too hot, too crowded. I couldn't stand it. It was time for a change."

The store carries about 30 different luncheon meats including corned beef, pork loin, garlic ham, double smoked ham, chicken head cheese and smoked bacon roll. It also has about 10 types of cheese, different varieties of frozen pierogi (Polish dumplings), juices, sweets, pasta, bread, herring, sauerkraut, mushrooms, pickles, stuffed cabbage and jam.

The deli makes sandwiches to order. They cost $2.50 to $3, depending on the size.

Kozik uses three distributors from Chicago, but if they are out of something or can't deliver, it is not unusual for her to drive to Chicago as early as 4 a.m.

The store doesn't have seating nor does it have a lot of atmosphere yet, but Kozik and her mother imbue the place with all the cheerfulness and personality it needs.

Dick Becker stopped in this week to pick up some items for his neighbors' au pair, who arrived recently from Poland.

"This is to die for," Becker said as he sampled the kielbasa, or Polish sausage.

Although he is of German and Irish ancestry, Becker said shopping at the deli reminds him of his childhood. It was his first time in the shop.

"This is just wonderful. I will definitely be back," he said.

Ann Patkowski-Ubing also visited the deli this week and spoke in her native tongue to Kozik and her mother.

Patkowski-Ubing, who is originally from Poland but has lived in Madison for 17 years, said she used to frequent Euro Food Market, the Polish deli in Middleton, which opened in 2002 and closed earlier this year. She and her husband often travel to Chicago to stock up on traditional Polish foods, but coming to Alex Polish American Deli is much more convenient, Patkowski-Ubing noted.

The deli is open Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. It is closed Sunday. The phone number is 233-9940.

Depending on how things go, I may just be stopping in there tomorrow.

It's pretty slow today and I've started reading Quicksilver in earnest. Since it shares a character with Cryptonomicon, I'm wondering if I should read it first. Dogger said that it wasn't necessary and I'll take his word.

I read one of the articles in the new issue of The Progressive and I was more than a perturbed by it. It was a profile of some UW Nader supporters. These college folks voiced their opinion on the Nader vs. Kerry issue. A highly idealistic bunch, they were very much for the former and thought that voting for Kerry was "selling out", if you will. The article juxtaposes their words with those of the old guard of progressives, the author included, whose mantra is "Anybody but Bush".

I can understand people on both sides of this fence and it seems unfortunate to have such division here as any movement for social change needs both young & old. The older folks provide wisdom, direction, perspective, etc. while the young have energy, idealism, and the constitution for physical confrontation. The youth seem to be saying, "Hey! You said that people should take a stand, follow their consciences, do what they believe to be right. We're doing that." And the elders have gotten all pragmatic on their collective ass. "The important thing at the moment is to get the lesser of 2 evils out of office."

While I am very keen on getting Bush out of office, I am wondering what the criteria of lefty intellectuals are now for voting one's conscience. Exactly how bad does a President have to be for them to abandon a major component of the progressive movement? And I don't mean Nader specifically but a third party generally. Does it not seem logical to vote for Nader or the Green Party if one seeks a viable third party in this country? Or is the creation of a serious counterweight to the Republicrats something that can be done in fits and starts? Maybe every other election cycle we can actually vote our consciences when we can our ballots for President. When you start putting conditions on things, they tend to snowball. From hereon in, there will be excuses and admonitions to vote for Dems instead of supporting a third party. If Bush wins, we'll be told not to vote for the Nader of that time because we have to make sure no one swings into office on Bush's coattails. Then everytime there's a liberal Supreme Court justice who voices his/her wishes to retire, we'll be told to vote for a Dem lest Roe v. Wade be overturned. And on and on it will go.

You can't be successful at removing corporate influence in government if you only try to remove it once very 2 or 3 election cycles. You can't put your aspirations and conscience on hold because there are issues that are "too important" during any particular election cycle. This is politics - there will always be something important at stake. I'm as keen on seeing Dubya sent back to Texas as much as the next Zinn reader but why have we now taken the position that substantial change can only come under certain conditions in the White House? If the situation gets worse, do you lower your standards?

Well, enough of that for now. I got a chance to get some good reading done at lunch and on the bus ride home. The Power of Black Music. While the musicological sections along with transcriptions leaves me flummoxed, such passages are few. The part which grabbed me was in the first chapter and was about the “ring” and “dance, drum, and sing”. The upshot was that these things played a central role in the lives of those people who were dragged kicking and screaming across the Atlantic into slavery. The author’s description of various performances, formal and informal, reminded me of Rashaan Roland Kirk, especially bits about the use of satire and mockery.

I received another email from the shoe-whore from Tomah. (self-described) She is urging me to read The Life of Pi and has indicated that she’ll be moving from Tomah to a more urban area in the near future. So, when do we fuck?

OK, OK. You know where hot womyn congregate? On the bus. There’s this one brunette who takes the same bus I do and she buries her face in a book like I do. She’s just hot. It’s hard to concentrate on a book, at times, when I keep undressing her in my mind. And it gets more difficult now that the weather has taken a turn towards the chillier. She wears more clothes thusly it takes my mind longer to be rid of them. The Dulcinea sent me an email which gave me the warm fuzzies. It read, in part:

”Sex with you is a treat. I really do like it. It isn't hard work. You are fun. I really love that you can now come inside me without worries.”

The last sentence refers to her adoption of birth control.

Oh, here’s a classic headline from the channel3000 website: “More Political Vandalism Rocks Dane County”. How does vandalism “rock” a community? Earthquakes rock counties. Riots rock counties. Violence in general rocks counties but no graffiti. The new issue of Time’s cover story is about a possible genetic basis for religion. Of course they gave it the sensational title of “The God Gene” or something similar. Way to oversimplify genetics.

Now this is how I want my library to look:

To Whom It May Concern

When you fix computers for a living, it is not often that you actually get a chance to help people. Sure, you "help" people to get onto the Net and such but this is nothing serious. People can always live without Internet pr0n and short, acronym-laced e-mails. Today we got the following:

To Whom It May Concern

I am helping for two kids that abandoned by their parent since 1992. Their father left them with us to go out of state to find a job and never returned (no mother was available. He was a single parent). I have been looking for him since then and couldn't find him yet This happened when I was live in Florida).

Then I had to move to Wisconsin in 2000 due to employment reason. I took them with me and obtained the legal guardianship from the family court in Madison.

Both of them are behaving good and doing very good in education. The older one is a senoir in West High School and young one is junior.

The problem that I am having is that their birth has nerver recordered. I inquire several states that they lived (their father mentioned) and no records have been found. I wasn't concern about this very much earlier because I thought that their father would show up one day. That's the reason I didn't want to legally adopt them before they become 16 years of age too.

I went to Vital Record Office in Madison to record their birth but they denied. Can you help me to find the way to do this ?. Me and my wife willing to legally adopt them too. Can the Family court help me on this ?. Please help me.. I want to continue help these kids. They are like my kids now.

Thank you,

Sincerely,

{Name withheld}

Now, this is a serious issue and I'd love to help but have no way to do so. I'm barely given enough info to actually do what we're here to do - fix computers.

I went over to The Dulcinea’s last night ostensibly to talk about whatever it is she wanted to talk about. We talked a bit and then fucked. It was a great example of differences between men & womyn. She wanted to talk and resolve relationship issues and get emotions in order. I wanted to fuck. But I did talk. In all honesty, I did feel bad about what I’d done. I’m not a cold, heartless bastard, ya know. I was genuinely sorry for not having maintained contact with her. On the other hand, I didn’t think the issue warranted hours of conversation. She seemed resigned to my limited candor with her too, which was helpful. I was forgiven, she lifted up her shirt, and, before long, it was up to her bedroom. What was I supposed to do? While I had thought that it might be best to just end it so I wouldn’t have to worry about it and she’d have some kind of definitive something-or-other. But, if I did, then I’d lose my only available source of pussy at the moment. My contacts at the singles sites haven’t panned out as I haven’t heard from one fraulein in a few days and the other in a bit less than that. Was it something I said? Or something I didn’t say?

The Dulcinea informs me that a Polish deli will be opening up on Monroe Street soon – Alex’s Polish American deli. Thank fuck! The prospect of having to drive a minimum of 60 miles during the winter month to find Polish food was beginning to sound unappetizing.

In other news, I’m downloading the latest H2G2 episode, the last Doctor Who drama, some Yes, and a set of recording of arguments made before the Supreme Court. Should be some good listening. Christ, I’ll have to put in a NP thingy for audio book soon. I finished reading Bill Malone’s book – quite good. It was really quite dense but his writing style is easy on the eyes. I found out that you can put The Onion in your My Yahoo page along with all the legit new headlines. I see that the Google Desktop search hoolie is coming under criticism. I must try it out. If it isn’t bad enough that Windows dominates the desktop market, I read that they have a modified version of CE called Windows Automotive to run the computers in cars. Oh fuck. Why does Bill Gates wanna make people troubleshoot blue screens of death in their cars?

His Cross Was Rather Bluhdee!

According to Ian, Tull will be playing some rarities this time around. How fortuitious that I've got a ticket for the show here in Madtown. Read on...

The first set features a plethora of the more acoustic works from over the years. Some familiar, some less so. Some never even played before at a theater near you!

The second set is the electric "Rock" set with, again, some material not yet played live. We have some lost delights from the Aqualung album to schedule into the shows as things progress, like Hymn 43, Slipstream and Up To Me - none of which has ever been played since the original recording in 1971.

I never thought they'd do "Hymn 43" but it somehow seems very appropriate right now with our politicians invoking their deity at every turn.

We Will Not Have an All-Volunteer Army

Work went fairly well today. Business was on the brisk side so I got the opportunity to meet some folks whom I only knew by name. Plus I got to chat a bit with Chuck, a guy with whom I worked at the DOC. Speaking of which, a case came my way which had been appended by Ben Bordelon, Chuck and my former boss. Overall, it was a pretty mellow day and I barely got started on Quicksilver. Oddly enough, they’ve decided to give us some training tomorrow. Here we are in the middle of our third week and now they decide that we need some formal direction. Gotta love the state.

The day was also nice in that I found myself in the company of blondes most of the day who were extremely easy on the eyes. A couple in the AM at Ancora followed by running into one very peripatetic hottie at work. We had a firedrill which gave me ample opportunity to glimpse my co-workers en masse. People even roughly my age are few and far between, though there is this big little baby who’s about 6’5” with long, dark hair. Christ, working my way up her legs to her honeypot would take a year or more. Fuck, starting out at any end of her going towards the honeypot would take ages. Luckily I am a patient kinda guy.

I made the mistake late in the day to pop over to the Isthmus forum. Much to my surprise, one fellow admitted that he was listening to a live rendition of The Lam Lies Down On Broadway. He was then assailed by a couple folks including Prof. Wagstaff who is, in my humble opinion, an arsenugget. And people think I’m a snob. At first I was extremely irritated but I soon mellowed out. In his honor, I’ve put on a nice Genesis gig and you can find out more by clicking on the album cover to the right.

Continuing in the musical vein, I must admit that Bill Malone’s book has gotten very interesting. It’s a bit like listening to a couple month’s worth of his radio show but, as John Madden would say, different. Each chapter takes a different element of the music and relates it to the life of Southern working class folk. Exempli gratia - a chapter on religion in country music. In it, he details the music’s appropriation of religion and how it is expressed. He also comments on the musicians’ use of it as well as the general tenor of religion amongst the people of the South. It’s a fairly quick read and it’s fun to see mention of songs with which I am familiar and find their histories and the social contexts from which they sprang or became popular. I think that, once I’m done with it, I shall continue with the music theme and read The Power of Black Music. That might get me some respect. I say this as people who’ve seen me toting Malone’s text around at work and at Ancora flash dismissive glances at both the book and me.

I’m downloading some lectures right now. One is a history of the U.S. Supreme Court, another about jazz, while the last is entitled “Creating Humans”. The latter has an amusing title but very serious subject matter, namely, method of becoming pregnant besides coitus, abortion, genetic tampering, and human life generally.

If any undecided voters and/or Republicans are reading, please go see Mistress Lola. A glace at her blog reveals that she is in need of s-e-x.

While the chili I just stirred is not my best ever, it ranks high in the heartiness category. A good douche of hot sauce and some käse and we’ll be fine.

The Best in Barley Pop

I finished reading Naomi Klein's No Logo a little while ago which leaves me without an e-book. I must remember to send myself another one tonight. What to read next? Well, what to read at work next - I'm in the middle ofthe paper version of Don't Get Above Your Raisin'. I've taken to reading it before work at Ancora since Stevie is once again giving me lifts to work. And now that I'm spending my lunch hour at Ancora as well, I'm getting some quality mid-afternoon time with the book as well.

Having finished No Logo, I feel compelled to say that it was good. I'm your lefty type so you had to figure I'd enjoy it. Though, admittedly, Klein too oft repeats herself. Her writing style is easy-going but, since the subject matter is complicated at times, it comes across as being faux-intellectual. She just doesn't do a good job of breeding populism with intellectualism. Her rants against multinational corporations & governments give me the sense that she's a populist but only in the most general sense. I get the feeling that she's more at home remaining above the fray to observe with ironic detachment.

Bill Malone's tome is getting a bit repetetive. It's interesting reading, to be sure, but he hasn't really said much new in about 20 pages. I just started chapter 4 so perhaps some uncharted lands are now to be explored.

Work has been pretty uneventful. I pledged to purchase 3lbs. of cookie dough from a co-worker whose son is selling the stuff to raise jinga for the Cub Scouts or some similar organization. The white chocolate chunck/macadamia nut combo pack struck my fancy hard so I went with it.

The Tomah-bound fraulein sent me an email today. Attached were some samples of her art, one of which is a painting of a shoe and is an eerie likeness of my Chuck Taylors. She's a brave lass too as she e-mailed me from her work account which gives me her full name. Luckily I'm not the stalker type. File me under "mostly harmless".

It was a fairly lengthy e-mail and I must admit that she sounds wonderful. Not only is she an artist, but she also loves to write & read. She is in her own words, "...a very very verbal and overall wordy person." In addition, she has a good sense of humor: "...now I feel like the All Powerful Oz! I mean, all powerful ART TEACHER ARTIST!!! You can worship me if you like. :)" Soooooo, when can we fuck?

Having just finished reading about sweatshops and those trying to improve conditions in them, I find it interesting to read that the new Blackfield t-shirt is described as "High quality and ethically sourced (in other words not made in a sweat shop!)"

I am pleased to see a smattering of Wisconsin breweries fared well at this year's Great American Beer Festival. Miller won the award for Large Brewing Company of the Year. Perhaps not a big deal for those of us that try to avoid their swill but it's better than having that wretched joint in St. Louis win it.

Sprecher won Small Brewing Company of the Year. Now that you gotta like. Sprecher Amber is one of the best beers ever. Yeah, it wreaks havoc with my gullet but it doesn't make me violent like the Black Bavarian. Mmm...Black Bavarian...

What else do we have here? Get this - the gold medal for American Lager/Ale or Cream Ale goes to Miller for Red Dog. Wisconsin fairs well in the Fruit & Vegetable Beer category with New Glarus' Raspberry Tart taking the gold and Leine's Berry Weiss getting bronze. I take it that they got tired of giving the gold to New Glarus for their Belgian Cherry Ale so they chose their other fruity potable. New Glarus also got a gold for their Brown Ale in the Wood and Barrel-Aged Beer category. I swear to fuck, Dan can do no wrong.

Next up I see that bronze for best Munchner-Style Helles went to Augsburger Golden by Stevens Point Brewery. Miller grabs a silver for Henry Weinhard Amber Light, the 2nd best American -Style "Light" Amber Lager of the competition.

Oh my fuck. Old Swill was found to be the best American-Style Lager ahead of Milwaukee's Beast. That shit nearly killed me in college and not it's getting awards. Continuing, Miller High Life got the silver for American-Style Premium Lagers. What does "premium" mean here exactly? PBR is premium but Schlitz is not. Somebody tell me what the difference is here.

Ooh! Sprecher's Oktoberfest was the #1 German-Style Märzen/Oktoberfest. Leine's Creamy Dark was the bronzed American-Style Dark Lager. Sprecher's Mind Block was bronzed in the Bock category. We Cheeseheads had a virtual lock in the German-Style Strong Bock category with Capital's Autumnal Fire taking the gold and New Glarus' Eisbock the bronze.

Considering that the beer at the Angelic has never been all that impressive to me, I'm surprised that they got a bronze in the American-Style Amber/Red Ale category with its Arch Amber. Finally, Sprecher rounds out the list with a gold for its Scotch Ale in the Strong Scotch Ale category.

Hmmm. I'm thirsty.

I Need A Horse & Carriage

Did I mention my car’s tranny took another digger? Fuck me. But I did get it back in the shop today. Casey seemed rather blithe about the whole thing. But I suppose he’s seen it all before and I probably act the same way when I’m at a customer’s house whose computer is dead in the water.

Pete picked me up from the shop and we went out to Portage to drop off his mom’s car. Being the nice person Sharon is, she bought us dinner. A culinary caveat – don’t get spaghetti at the Tamarack. The pasta was overcooked, the sauce out of a can, and the waitress neglected to bring me hot sauce. She did have a nice ass, though.

I comment upon her poop chute as I’m extremely frisky tonight. Have been all day, curiously enough. It started early when I stopped in at CZ for the first time in a while and said hello to Miss Jolene. This was a calculated maneuver. Being hornier than a two-peckered goat in a fucking bee, I decided to gaze up on lovely visage adorned with long hair. I nearly pitched a tent watching her merely pour a cup of java. We chatted a bit before an intruder entered demanding coffee and I took off. On the other hand, there’s a method to the madness of getting to know your barista. Not only do they know what you drink and how you like it prepared, but they also give you a genuine smile when they greet you. The trend continued later in the morning at Ancora. The helpful and friendly barista there, about whom I’ve written previously, flashed a nice smile and engaged me in conversation. It makes us guys feel special when schöne Frauen smile at us and engage us in light banter. I suspect it also makes us give larger tips. The barista asked if I had seen Michael Moore over the weekend – I hadn’t. What gave it away that I was a lefty? I returned that at lunch in search of coffee and refuge from my cubicle where I could read some more of Bill Malone’s book. Just to get away from there is a relief of Biblical proportions. The really hot blonde was there. I set my book on the counter and she looked at it. No doubt she thinks me a total weenie.



On the bright side, I got a reply from the voluptuous womyn above. (The cropping is of her doing.) Unfortunately she hails from Tomah. Either I did a fantastic job of portraying charisma in my personals ad or the land of Tomah is bereft of remotely interesting men. I’m inclined to the latter. Still, if I can get a piece of action and a working car, I’ll be driving up there faster than a deacon in a whorehouse. And she’s an art teacher so the possibilities for making the beast on two backs in manners creative are many.

I also received a reply today from a fraulein I’ve been corresponding with at a singles site. She indicated that she is a former assistant DA. Oh fuck. She’ll lay down some oral grandiloquence and have me circumlocuting in no time.

Thou Dost Protest

I see that a bunch of janitors are picketing down Wilson across the street from the new courthouse. Apparently Cleanpower treats their janitors for shite. Gee, go figure. I heard a siren as I was walking back in so I presume that they're being arrested as we speak.

Headphones Await

Have I mentioned that my laptop is fucked up after having installed the latest Microsoft patches for Internet Exploder? I don't even use the fucking thing except to download patches! Otherwise I'm Firefox all the way. Unfortunately the Winders Update uses Active X so you've gotta use IE. So now explorer.exe keeps faulting. So it ends and restarts constantly. And you can't open various programs and it's just fucked. I really don't wanna wipe it but it looks like I've gotta. None of the god damned hotfixes appear in Add/ Remove Programs. Ugh!

On an even worse note, my friend Roy has moved back to Norway after 14+ years in exile here in the States. To top things off, he's quite ill too. I'm a bit worried as I don't know all the details yet. It's amusing in the saddest way to read his words about not being able to afford health care in this country. A) It must be fairly serious and B) it says a lot about the priorities in this country.

It looks like my cruise on an aircraft carrier is gonna fall through due to my inability to get paperwork in on time. I'm really mad at myself for this and don't wanna talk about it. At least I'll get the chance to go to the atheist conference and meet Steven Pinker.

I read that 3M has announced they've made aluminum that is 50% transparent. When they get it completely transparent, someone has gotta make a car out of it. The engine too so you can see all the combustion. Wouldn't be a great choice for those wanting to fuck in the back seat, though. Well, unless you happen to be an exhibitionist. I got my absentee ballot today even though it looks like I won't need it. Fuck it, I'll send it in anyway. The sooner Bushy is out of office, the sooner I'll feel less embarrassed about having a philistine running this country. Dred Scott. Please.

Today I received a copy of some erotica based on an incident in which I was involved. To wit:

His cock is so hard, I'm having difficulty keeping it in my mouth as he thrusts his hips toward me, fucking my face. What started out as a slow leisurely exercise has turned into a very energetic activity. My body is in an altered state, breath coming heavy, nipples hard, pussy wet. I can't seem to get enough of him, the taste and smell filling my head. I'm not really hearing his moans and sighs, more just the rush of blood in my head, so it takes me by surprise when I feel his cock begin to pulse in my mouth. In the next moment I am filled with his cum, moaning as it floods my mouth. I swallow and he fills my mouth again. I find myself smiling around the cock still in my mouth, swallowing and licking him clean as he basks in his afterglow. I look up at him with big earnest eyes.

"I am so wet."

He doesn't say anything, but pulls me up onto the couch, pulling the t-shirt off me...

I'm curious to know what happens next as I can't remember. But I'm sure it'll be good.

I've gotta stop air drumming before someone sees me. It's embarrassing enough to have someone see me doing this much less seeing that I do it as gracefully as a one-legged cat trying to bury a turd in a frozen pond. You see, I learned to air drum from Phil Collins as a kid. But I didn't know that he was left-handed so I play the hi-hat & snare like a righty but my tom fills are lefty.

Time to listen to some Doctor Who and fall into the arms of Morpheus.

La La La

Today slowly grinds to a close...

It hasn't been bad. I've taken to reading my e-book of Naomi Klein's No Logo during slow periods which have been frequent today. On the bright side, I've gotten on the good side of a barista at Ancora and furthered my communications with a fraulein I "met" at a singles site. After exchanging commentary and answering each other's questions, I was finally able to see her picture - and I like what I see. Long dark hair...mmm...Perhaps best of all she chose the following from a list of "must-haves" for her mate:

"I must have someone who is mature and experienced as a potential sexual partner and is able to express himself/herself freely."

Oh fuck, I'll express myself freely. I'll freely express my desire to have her on all fours so I can yank on her mane while roger her roundly from behind. She's read my answers to her queries, she's seen my pictures and she's still onboard. So far, so good. I await a witty email from her now.

The barista seems really nice. You've gotta get in good with those people because they take care of all your caffeine needs. Don't fuck with that shit, man. If you piss them off, they'll spit in your coffee or, even worse, give you decaf. Anyway, this woman noticed the Darwin button on my bag's strap this morning and asked if I had read a recent New York Times' article on the subject of the teaching of creation "science" in public schools. And then this afternoon I ran into her on the Square as I was walking back here. She smiled and waved as I greeted "The coffee Lady". In fact, she seemed overly excited considering that I've only been a regular customer for less than 2 weeks and had our first thingy resembling a conversation this morning. Perhaps she is afflicted with an over-abundance of mirth. But that would be a good thing.

Son Volt in the Studio

As most of you know, the Son Volt recording session began yesterday in St. Louis. The session will get started each day at about 3:00 pm (however, today may be earlier since they are just getting started – should be on at around 2:00 pm CST) and should last until about midnight each evening. The final day of recording is October 25th. You can view the sessions at www.jayfarrar.net/webcam. The line-up for the current recording session includes Jay, Brad Rice (guitar), Andrew Duplantis (bass), and Dave Bryson (drums). John Agnello is engineering the session. Eric Heywood (pedal steel) will be available for recording in December. As I mentioned in an earlier email, Son Volt is not currently affiliated with a label and should be on the road in early 2005.

More Idiocy

I’ve been working on finding a fraulein at a singles site. I’m working on a couple right now via the site’s communication process. I’m considering my tenuous ties with one as she just isn’t that good-looking. But she looks to be fuckable. This other one is being coy and not giving me a peek at the goods yet. She is short which is a plus in the bedroom, in certain ways.

I swear to fuck, Bushy has a prompter. While Kerry was addressing a question on health card, Dubya was looking off to his left intently and then writing something down and then looking off to that same spot and then writing again. WTF?

Yelling at the Idiots on the Idiot Box

Oh fuck! I thought Kerry was gonna let Bush get away with that fiscal responsibility line. I swore I wouldn’t vote for him if he didn’t. But he didn’t call him on the Pay-Go bullshit. Dubya wants to give money to people to get an education to get a different job. We pay and Bush goes and spends it.

Holden voice: Saaaame thing.

I just love how Bush struggles to find the big words his trainers told him to use. Like “litany”.

Kerry’s got to refute these spurious claims about him voting to raise taxes 98 times.

Oh yes! Kerry doesn’t duck the “Is homosexuality a choice?” question. Still, I’m repulsed by this whole “God created blah blah blah” thing.

Blondage

The two primary things on my mind this morning are as follows:

1) blondes
2) The song "Leper Madonna" by Beatallica.

The former is obvious while the latter, not so much. I downloaded a Phil Collins show a couple days ago and finally got around to listening to it last night. The penultimate song of the show is a cover of "Lady Madonna" and, for some reason, it inspired my grey matter to fixate on the Beatallica song. And so it's been playing in my head since last night.

This morning started off oddly and I fear that it may be a portent of an even odder, if not worse, day to come. From what I can recall, my alarm went off at its usual antelucan hour. Groggily I hit the snooze button. I awaken again but not to the alarm. The time is 5:43 and there's the dot indicating that the alarm is active. How queer. But I need to get motivated regardless of the predispositions of any electronic devices. Going downstairs to burn a rope, I find that Stevie isn't up. Normally he is brewing coffee a bit after 5. I checked the bus schedule and then showered. While I was dressing, Stevie ran into the bathroom. It seemed that everyone was sleeping in a bit this Wednesday morning.

Since I start work later than he, I wasn't worried about being late and I arrived at Ancora perhaps only a minute or two later than normal. Much to my surprise, I was greeted by the visages of two young, nubile, and very attractive frauleins who were very nice and talkative as well. They were amused when I asked for "Twenty ounces of your finest Fireside blend." I then proceeded to do a spot of reading before moseying over to 1WW.

I finished the last several pages of a chapter which concerned Proust and Freud. While there is a certain visceral thrill reading about the sexual proclivities of famous people, Ackerman seems all-too willing to psycholanalyze them. She assumes that the reader subscribe to various pop-psychology tenets in her explanations, which I find disturbing. Rather than simply informing the reader of Proust's view on love, Ackerman feels compelled to sift through his childhood, especially his relationship to his mother. From this, she draws various conclusions which we are to accept. Here's an example of her reasoning:

a) Proust lived a very hermetic life.
b) Proust and his mother had a very close relationship - almost too close.
Ergo his lifestyle was the result of his relationship with mommy.

She then proceeds to analyze the guy, pointing out how he tried to find this or that in womyn to account for this or that aspect of his relationship with his mother. Blah. Stop with the pop psychology! Either she sees the Oedipal Complex at work everywhere or she's setting us up for something that comes later in the book.

Complaints aside, it was still pretty interesting reading. And I think the parts about Proust's view of love and how it mediates our relationships with nature and other human beings got to me. As I was walking down Main Street, I felt very happy, very connected in some odd way. (Sorry, no thoughts about my mother.) I met the glance of a beautiful blonde who had big blue eye with one of my own. It was one of those moments when eye contact seems to last an hour when it only lasts a fraction of a second.
Now, whether I felt this way because I'd read about love or because I'm just frisky is something I'll leave to the experts.

I Got Travelin' On My Mind

It's Monday morning and I'm here at work. Been here 8 minutes and already I'm bored fecal matterless. Unsurprisingly, there are no new cases to delve into. I have no voice mail. There were some e-mails but they consisted of notices that people would be out today, a request for my new phone #, and a couple atta boys forwarded on to us by the supervisor. I've gotten the things I need to mail ready for the post and checked my primary e-mail accounts. We are (theoretically) limited to about 15 minutes/day of Internet usage so I don't wanna just start surfing. And burying my nose in a book doesn't seem prudent. While I had planned to e-mail an e-book to myself, I completely spaced on this yesterday and now I'm suffering for it.

Not only is this boring but enormously frustrating. I'd rather be doing work - even just piddly busy-work - than this.

Maybe I'll feel better after my first paycheck. This gig has been all downhill. First the contract was for a year and then it became 6 months. First I was told that I'd be made an offer by my contracting company to be hired by them and thusly being rescued from Contractordom. Then I was told, after I had started here,
that this was still being considered. I've heard hide nor hair about this. There's this feeling in my gut that a major snafu will arise somehow, somewhere, sometime soon.

Alrighty, enough bitching about work. What next? This morning, Stevie and I contrasted the hotties at Faux News with those at CNN. Slow news day. On the way in, he told me that he'd heard that an African woman had won a Nobel Prize and proceed to accuse the White Man of having created AIDS to keep the Black Man down.
To be fair, I shall have to actually read an article about this rather than trusting a millionth hand tale of it but, somehow, I believe that the woman holds these warped views.

Speaking of warped views, I rented the super-deluxe-mega-expanded verison of JFK over the weekend to check out the multimedia bonus material. There was a short documentary on the materials made public by the Feds after the brouhaha surrounding the film. While very interesting, it was too short. While it brought up some interesting connections and pushed a couple things out from the shadows, there was too little context and no attempt to connect the dots to a larger picture. What were the implications? Plus I'd like to have known exactly what was released aside from the smattering of documents shown. And what was released that bolstered the Warren Commission's findings? To top things off, there was no online material as promised. Excepting ads, of course.

I had no idea that a county office would be closed today, presumably because it's Columbus Day. So there's a printing issue I can't address until tomorrow...

Some TV Worth Watching

Frontline will be having a little peek at those two politicos running for the Presidency.

Weekends Seem To Mean So Much

I’m not looking forward to returning to work tomorrow. There will be some catching up to do, no doubt, but otherwise back to the boredom. Welcome to the state indeed.

My weekend was fine. Watched the debate on Friday with Stevie which made me ponder if Dubya knows anything about our country’s history or ever actually read any of our state papers. I mean, come on, he pulls Dred Scott out of his ass and had the gall to say that he and his Faith Based Initiatives are in strict adherence to the Constitution. Kerry, being the great joiner-iner that he is, said that he too supported such egregious violations of the First Amendment. Oh glory be! Both of you guys can take your respective religions and shove them up your respective assholes. Kerry becomes less attractive as a President all the time. I think William Saletan had a good takeon the whole sordid affair.

I got laid on Saturday. Twice, in fact, so, considering I didn’t win the lottery, they were the most important events of the day. But also noteworthy is the fact that I finished that book on war. It was good but could have been great had the author not been so repetitive repetitive. He had a boatload of good anecdotes but he treaded the same ground in each chapter. We’ll see how this A Natural History of Love goes. It came highly recommended by my bro’s roommate, Andy. It also came to me by way of him. I finished listening to Doctor Who: The Creed of the Kromon and will start The Natural History of Fear tonight and am really looking forward to it. Instead of a brief plot outline, the makers give this:

IT IS A CRIMINAL OFFENCE TO COPY OR ATTEMPT TO COPY ANY PERSONALITY OR MEMORY-RELATED ARTICLE SHOWN OR DISPLAYED IN THIS PUBLIC THEATRE, INCLUDING THIS WARNING. PUNISHMENT OR CONVICTION IS AN UNLIMITED REDUCTION OF AUTHORISED OVERTIME HOURS AND TOTAL PERSONALITY REVISION. YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO BRING ANY JUKEBOX OR RECORDING EQUIPMENT INTO THIS PUBLIC THEATRE. THIS WILL BE TREATED AS AN ATTEMPT TO BREACH COPYRIGHT. ANY PERSON DOING SO CAN BE EJECTED AND THE EDITOR MAY CONFISCATE SUCH ARTICLES. WE ASK THE PUBLIC TO BE VIGILANT AGAINST ANY SUCH ACTIVITY AND REPORT ANY MATTERS AROUSING SUSPICION TO THEIR LOCAL CONSCIENCE. THANK YOU.

Public Warning
Faction Against Character Theft

Also included was a comment from the director:

”When Paul McGann turned up on his first day (we recorded this one first), he announced that this was one of the best scripts he'd ever read - not just Who-wise, but of all. He liked the political touches and said when we'd finished 'more like this, please'."

The old blog has a new look. I snagged it from somewhere that probably deserves credit but I can’t remember from whence it came. It was called “Autumn Something-Or-Other” so I thought it appropriate. It came pre-hoolied with a column for links’n’such so I’ve taken advantage of it. And I even have a link for folks to email me which hasn’t been the case for a few months. I suppose it’s not a big deal as I’ve only ever had one (1) person email me. This person wanted to know if I was a hippie. Oh, here it is in all it’s semi-literated Internet shorthand glory:

”hey where pine river i saw it on ur blogger and r u a hippi cause i am

While I appreciate that this person took the time to e-mail me, I wish that he’d at least have had the decency to use punctuation. I replied but never heard back. Apparently, since I told him I wasn’t a hippie, I am persona non grata in his world. Forsooth.

Some new additions to my bootleg collection:

Ryan Adams - 12/07/01 Barrymore Theater
Phil Collins - 02/20/83 Warner Theater, Washington DC
Dick Dale - 05/14/04 The Cabooz, Minneapolis, MN
Genesis - 05/29/92 Olympic Stadium, Montreal, Canada
Jethro Tull - 11/16/79 Civic Auditorium, Santa Monica, CA
New Orleans Klezmer Allstars - 03/18/00 Comfort Zone, Toronto, Ontario
The Pixies - 01/28/92 Barrymore Theater
Richard Thompson - 10/16/96 Irving Plaza, NY, NY

What shall I get next?

Report from 1WW

While having a conversation outside with my co-worker Archie, the topic of card games came up. At one point, he described how bridge differed from pinochle and it occurred to me that the last of the old guard of pinochle players in my family died in July. I lapsed into a mental zone briefly and thought about how the days of great-uncles coming down hard on the younger set were over. I think it was Frank who chastised the harshest. Never having learnt the game, I can’t be sure. Humdrum thoughts on a dreary day.

I’ve been at work for nearly 2½ hours and accomplished little. I have resolved a couple cases and am not waiting to hear back from a few more people. It being a Friday, I think the majority of the state workforce has the day off so it’s slow. Very slow. No new problems have come our way in about 45 minutes. Since we’re newbie contractors, there isn’t other work for us to do. Our tax money hard at work.

Last night I was in the mood to be productive so I headed out to the Kinko’s on the west side to have an ID badge made as per my boss’ orders. I get there and tell a clerk what I require. “We don’t do those here,” he tells me. But, since they do take passport photos, I did have that done. When it was time to pay the piper, I told him to put it on my company’s tab. I give him the acronym as well as the full name. “The account has been deactivated,” he says. So I leave the pictures there figuring someone else can pick them up considering the office is just down the street. This morning I emailed my boss and told him what had happened. His reply humored me:

”I spoke with the Asst Manager of Kinko's @ Mineral Point in Madison this morning. Apparently, that clerk isn't too sharp. He/she read the wrong account name. There's a Paragon Realty whose account has been deactivated. The Asst Manager apologizes for the error - she is aware they made the error.”

Yeah, that guy was as sharp as a bowling ball. At least I got to stand around a while and looking over the brace of books concerning how to deal with bosses who are idiots.

Well, Stevie’s poker game for tonight has been cancelled. I don’t know exactly why as he never explained. He did, however, mention that it was all for the better as he’d rather watch the Presidential debate anyway. I think it’s safe to say that he is now officially a fire-breathing democrat. Not that there’s much wrong with that but he’s become obsessed with this whole election hoolie. I usually get up a little later than he so by the time I mosey downstairs, there’s coffee (if you consider Folgers to be coffee, that is) ready and the news is on the idiot box. Every morning I he greets me with the latest poll data. Before I got this job, this routine was reserved for evenings.

I can’t get the instrumental section of “Matty Groves” by Fairport Convention out of my head. Swarb’s fiddle and Dick Thompson’s guitar keep swirling in my mind’s ear. That album of Leige and Lief demos finished downloading last week and a few of the tracks have been in Winamp’s playlist since then. I really must get that album again. If memory serves, it’s been remastered and laden with bonus tracks. In addition to these, one of three live versions of “Hand in Hand” has also been a staple in my musical diet as of late. Two from 1985 and one from 1983.

I noticed a funny thing in last week’s issue of…of…of that new free weekly by whomever publishes the Wisconsin State Urinal. Core Weekly! That’s it. There was that article about that womyn who collects vintage erotica novels. (Should that read “erotic novels”?) While amusing in itself, what humored me was that her picture shows her wearing a Jethro Tull t-shirt.

I’ve traded a few emails with The Dulcinea today. Aside from any concupiscence involved, it’s made me want to listen to the new Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series. The third episode was broadcast this week. Luckily there’s Usenet so I can catch up in high fidelity. I wonder – are there any radio stations in this whole friggin’ country where one can listen to radio theater? I mean, it seems like the BBC has got that shit covered for the UK while our airwaves seem to be filled with bands of hate-spewing right-wing brigands and an endless repetition of Britney Spears and Outkast.

I might just make tonight a mellow one. Brew up some tasty coffee for a start. At this point, my interest in the Prez debate is pretty low and I’ve got a lot of laundry to put away. And it’s about that time - to put the flannel stuff on my bed. And I’m keen on continuing with my current read as well despite that it’s gotten a bit repetitious. It’s gotten too “War is this way and here’s an example. Now here’s a couple corollaries with their attendant examples. Rinse and repeat.” Still, it is an exceedingly interesting topic. The book is a quick read so I’ll get through it. Hell, I may even watch some television this weekend. Probably Bill Maher’s show tonight and NOW w/Bill Moyers whenever it airs. They’re not showing it tonight because of the debates. BookTV looks to have some interesting bits but I’ll peruse their schedule later.

OK, it’s lunch time and I need coffee.

Humor From Across the Pond

A storm of criticism has arisen in Britain over a 10-minute sequence of the Channel 5 reality series The Farm, in which one of the show's participants was seen masturbating a pig, then collecting about 3/4 of a pint of semen in a flask to be used for inseminating sows. The show's participant was Rebecca Loos, soccer star David Beckham's alleged ex-lover. Today's Guardian newspaper cited some typical viewer reaction: "It was just vile. It was probably the worst thing I have seen on TV. I just couldn't believe it was on television." Another: "Are there not laws against this kind of thing." The channel said that it was merely depicting a normal part of life on a farm.

¾ of a pint?!? That puts me to shame.

Worse Things

I must remember to bring headphones to work tomorrow because it’s so fucking boring! I am a reminded of a poli sci class I took in college. The state is such a wonderful creature. It does everything to ensure that the least amount of work is done in the greatest amount of time. Still we have no resources other than people and we are forced to consult poor Pete nearly constantly as there’s no one else about the place. Today I had to find out what CLIC is. Not a clue. No mention of it on any of the paperwork we were given which, by the way, is becoming increasingly useless. If some hot womyn don’t appear soon, I may go crazy because I can only have the flames of my libido extinguished by the sight severely overweight middle-aged women for so long before the act of trying to get an erection takes on Herculean overtones. Having only just started there, I can still revel in the irony of being surrounded by the obese (clinically, at least) at the Department of Health and Family Services. This is the place that doesn’t allow smoking on its property – not even in the parking lot. So we smokers take refuge in the nearby parking ramp. Now, I’m not exactly thin but I’m not over-nourished as these people are. Offices are no places for young people like myself, surrounded as we are by horrifying visions of the ever-approaching paunchy, balding Middle Ages.

These bad dreams were driven home this week at my lunchtime walks which involve inclines. My legs actually ached a bit. Much bicycling is needed as is exercise generally. But it felt good nonetheless to be out in the air getting a modicum of gentle physical activity. And I figured out where Ancora was. I went there twice to atone for my sin of having gone to Starbucks, only once, mind you, on Monday. (My list of baristas I’d like to fuck has increased greatly in the past three days.) On top of all this, I took the bus home. The act of not having contributed to traffic and carbon monoxide emissions was pleasing. It only took me about 23 minutes to get home, including a brief walk from the bus stop to my abode. Ecce ambulo! More walking! I feel like such a Madisonian. I don’t understand why people here bitch about the bus. No doubt some routes entail excruciatingly long rides but I’m happy. The CTA’s Big Green Limousines were like a second home when I was a pubescent. Being packed like sardines on an Addison bus that served 2 large high schools – mine had 4500-5000 students – as well as an el stop and Wrigley Field. This was before night games there (and before metal detectors at my former school.)

Plus the ride gave me a chance to start reading a book that The Dulcinea lent me, War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. Quite good. Well, the introduction was interesting, anyway.

I was just going to write that today has been the first day in months without an email from The Dulcinea and then she calls. I didn’t answer the phone because I didn’t want to talk to anyone but Stevie did and the rat-bastard gave away that I was home. We spent an hour or so together and I nearly feel asleep. At first it was OK because I helped her out with a couple things but then had to sit here while she talked to herself as she tried to figure out a newsreader. It’s noisy here in the basement and I could barely makeout what she was saying so I just grunted in ascent most of the time. But finally I went upstairs where it was quieter and listened some more. Why do women do this? Call up a guy and have little or nothing to say? Ya know, if I’d wanted to talk to you or entertain you, I would have called thou. Instead, I was at home having a grand time alone and now it’s done and over. I am not Joey Conversationalist. If you want someone to wane poetic about shit at you, call up a girly friend or family member. We introverted types have to pick our moment of logorrhea carefully and, when we do, we’ll call you.

So now I have forgotten what it was that I was going to write. Ah well. Worse things have been known to happen.

SON VOLT BACK IN STUDIO: NEW LINE-UP ANNOUNCED, ANTHOLOGY IN THE WORKS

Jay Farrar’s popular rock band persona, Son Volt, is heading back into the studio to record their fourth full-length studio album—the first new release since 1998’s Wide Swing Tremolo (Warner Bros. Records). This time around, though, fans will be seeing (and hearing) a different collection of side musicians performing with Farrar. After several months of discussions and planning with the original Son Volt players—Dave Boquist, Jim Boquist and Mike Heidorn—Farrar was unable to reach acceptable business terms with the original line-up.

"Times change, and so do people, I guess,” reflected Farrar. “While I was looking forward to the reunion aspect of working with those guys, it just wasn’t meant to be. It’ll be liberating to get down to work with a different group of musicians. I had always envisioned Son Volt as a vehicle for my songwriting and expected it to evolve over the years. When I reformed the original band this year to record our track for Por Vida [the Alejandro Escovedo benefit album (Or Music)], it seemed like we might be able to extend that two-day session into two years of recording and touring--but it doesn’t look that way now.”

With fifteen Son Volt songs written, studio time booked and engineer John Agnello on board, Farrar now plans to commence recording in St. Louis on October 12. Currently set to collaborate with Farrar on these sessions are Brad Rice (guitar-Tift Merritt, Ryan Adams), Andrew Duplantis (bass—Jon Dee Graham, Meat Puppets, Bob Mould), Eric Heywood (pedal steel—Son Volt, Calexico) and Dave Bryson (drums—Canyon).

Fans will have access to these sessions through web cameras installed in the studio beginning October 12, providing a very rare glimpse into Farrar’s recording process as it actually unfolds. Access to these cameras (and other behind-the-scenes material) will be available at www.jayfarrar.net/webcam.

Also on the Son Volt horizon is an anthology of material from the first three Warner Bros. albums—including rare or previously unreleased soundtrack cuts, live tracks, demos and unreleased studio recordings from that era. This anthology, the new studio album, plus a long-awaited tour are all slated for mid-2005.

Coffee Grounds Bury the Hours That I Kill

I actually accomplished things today. The greatest of these is having spent some seven or eight hours at Mother Fools reading and listening to Doctor Who audio dramas. On the plus side, I finally finished reading God’s Secretaries and listening to Zagreus. Each was, in its own way, extremely interesting and entertaining. Of course there were some hotties there but all were quite resistant to my subterfuges. But I did manage to get into conversations with a few guys who were, in their own ways, interesting and entertaining. I must make a note to myself to sit in the squeaky chair. At one point I was speaking with a guy who, from all indications, lived out of his car when this gorgeous midriff-bearing creature steps in front of him and bends over to rummage through the newspaper repository. I nearly pitched a tent and I had the wrong view. Later, ARA called with an estimate on replacing my transmission. It’s more than I care to admit in public but I was happy to be able to have a diagnosis and estimate the same day I brought the car in. I called a couple places before them and was told Thursday morning at the earliest. It’s odd that I didn’t consider ARA first as I’ve brought cars in there before. Casey may be a rip-off artist for all I know but he comes across as a straight-shooter. And I gave him my business card so hopefully their computer will break and I can charge them an outrageous sum for work beyond their abilities.

By the time I got home, I had a nice caffeine buzz and had me a spot of andouille to calm the gullet. A little surfing and setting up some downloads and it was off to bed. The perfect murder of a day.

A Monday Best Forgotten

It’s a curious feeling to see a personals ad by the woman you were just fucking a couple weeks ago. Ah well, more power to her. I myself am trying to find a new fraulein so it’s all good. I should probably download the pictures that she put up of herself for my digital keepsakes album, ie – the My Pictures folder on my PC, as I don’t actually have any that contain her visage. For my part, I got a response from a womyn to one ad thingy. We had to trade a few questions and answers before I was allowed to see the goods. I took this to be a bad omen and my intuition was right. While probably a sweet and caring individual, I just didn’t find her attractive. None of these profile matching schemes is worth a fuck because they don’t take into account a woman’s looks. Shit, I don’t need an algorithm to tell me how well I’d get along with a woman – I can figure that out myself. What I need to know is what she looks like because I’m hornier than a two-peckered billy goat in a fucking bee. She could love listening to progressive rock as much as I do but, if I’ve gotta move 14 love handles to get to the honeypot, well, that ain’t gonna cut it.

Now that I work at the state, I’ll never find a young, nubile gal at my place of employment. Though there are some good-looking “older” women. In fact, the one who sits next to me is a hottie. She’s quite sylphlike but I’d still fuck her like a broken screen door in a hurricane. But I’m pretty sure she’s hitched.

My new job is classic. Fix shit that I know next to nothing about with no resources at hand. I found a manual and followed the procedure it listed only to get an angry email from some woman in another department. Windows and Office issues I can handle but how the fuck am I supposed to fix these proprietary applications if there are no resources? I can’t even get them installed on my PC to zip into a test environment or anything. While I have local admin rights, I don’t have rights to whack out to anyone else’s PC nor to most servers. At least I’ll get a phone # of my own come Thursday. Maybe. A manager told us today that the whole deal hadn’t yet been OK’d by those on high so our positions could be scrapped and we sent packing tomorrow.

On my way home, my car’s transmission took a dumper so I’ve gotta spend tomorrow getting it towed to someplace which will probably inform me that they can’t even look at it for a month.

Oh glorious Monday!