VIRGO ON MARS

Last night, Erin and I attended our first country & western-themed party. Walking up to the party, I was heard to remark, "This is the end of my youth!" Geezus--theme parties? I was skeptical. In actuality, it started out as a great time: excellent spread, hot cider & whiskey, and I spilled whipped cream on a middle-aged woman's leg. Classic! The party grew until it became near-impossible to stand anywhere other than the frontyard. I'd already watched someone puke all over the grass by the time we left shortly after midnight.

Regarding Evil Dead, Ash has to be the lamest and most inept movie heroes of all time. Then again, if you're thinking in terms of movie heroes, why watch Evil Dead?

BETTER CHANGE YOUR MIND

Biphasic sleeping is back on the mind. George Lois, a graphic designer I greatly admire, said in an interview that he sleeps in two 3.5 hour blocks, out of "part work ethic and part craziness." Polyphasic sleeping was something that interested me since college and came up again when I was getting divorced and living alone. It seemed exciting but my schedule would never allow it. Biphasic seems quite possible and maybe I can get Erin in on it as well.

This is a strange year in that my hankering to celebrate autumn and Halloween has returned. The last several years have seen a sharp decline in busting out zombie comics and laying in leaf piles. This year, the cool air is as wonderful and rejuvenating as I'd once thought it always was.

There are many Ypsilanti autumn memories that stick out: furious bike rides through Frog Island Park listening to SN's 'Wilderness,' sitting on a fallen trunk over rushing water and humming "The Right To Remain Silent" for hours, and then a few years later there existed the Garland Street Mens Society.

GSMS is still a bit of a mystery to me. Nevermind the amount of booze we slugged down, that time period is a bit hazy in general. It started out nicely: avant-garde movies, avant-garde soundtracks, good food, and cheap booze. As things went sour for my health and personal life, so did the GSMS. It became the least stimulating night of the week--mom jokes, brainless drinking, and I had to clean up the mess the next day. On top of that, my house was beginning to smell like a Black & Mild. In the end, I lost my mind a bit and needed to recover from everything that had been happening for me emotionally.

Erin and I wanted to start a night back up but in the back of my mind, a weekly get together seemed inherently flawed. It doesn't leave a lot of room for experimentation. I mean, you could go somewhere different or completely change the activities each week, but you'd still become worn out.

"Do you guys want a belt?," he asked. We each threw one back.

GO WITHOUT ME

It's been a lot of fun slowly tricking out E.'s bike. The best part
may be that I get to ride it downtown every time I can afford an
adjustment. The ride home was a breeze even without a jacket and I
fear the winter will grind my rides to a halt.

At home, we put together an antipasto dinner ala Zola's and it was pretty grand. Erin sprung for the majority of food (I'm particularly addicted to artichokes) and some Maker's Mark and cider. To say the least, it hit the spot. We watched about 1/6 of the US edition of Cinema 16 which is enlightening, enjoying, and grueling all at once.

Afterward, Brian and I talked for a long bit out on the front porch. It was probably one of the better conversations we've had in a long while. His times are ruff and he talked about the annoyance of affluent university kids while I went on about the agony of life. No, really.

Never satisfied.

STOCKYARD

Tonight is the nicest it's felt in days. It's a beautiful fall night with a cool breeze rolling over the back of my neck via a partially-open window. Slightly high and walking Chacho earlier, the street at the edge of a near-by school soccer field looked gorgeous below the blue sky. A huge gush of wind hit me, reminding me of the late '80s and early '90s and the perspective of being smaller and crawling through brush on nights like this. I'd forgotten about that perspective.

Right now is an incredibly busy time which, mostly, feels good. It could be argued that this year has been my busiest and most productive although I've been hit by a few periods of feeling low. It's a little confusing as one generally inspires the other to opposite effect. Attempting to figure out just what the problem is reminded me of the first time I felt this way: August, 1998.

The band I was playing in had a show almost every weekend that summer. It was an exciting time but I didn't have a job and we didn't practice so the week between each show was spent agonizing over the downtime. Going from the preparation, adrenaline, and release of a show was taxing but wonderful -- nothing like it in the world. Waiting to get back to that state... dreadful. That summer I read Get In The Van for the first time. Rollins described in great detail the nightmare of downtime and it was easy to relate.

Other enterprises have taken the place of playing in a band but my workload is a bit bigger. Luckily, the process of conception to completion has changed for the better (re: easier) and the energy is dispersed over weeks as opposed to a day. With that said, the DJ night went extremely well this month. It's the closest I come to performing and more satisfying. The downside is that it takes a few days to recover and relax. If I was DJing to this number of people once-a-week rather than once-a-month, I'd be a fucking mess. Still, the few days since then have been a little messy and I've wanted something to take my mind off this.

Tonight, Robert came to the store to work on the next soul mix. It won't be long before the relatively simple process of editing the songs and drafting the art is over and we start selling them. I was hoping he'd bring beer like last time but we had sushi instead. It didn't quite do the trick of bringing me out of the slight dumps so I was pleased to come home and finish off a j-bone some others had started. Unfortunately and not-so-surprisingly, it didn't do the trick either.

Also, I'm dying to move.

HUMEDAD DE LA LECHE

INT. NIGHT - FACTORY
Lazzar leeds Shana into the largest chamber of the factory through a steel door labeled "Mantenga la puerta trabada. Ningún alimento" under a black stenciled skull and crossbones. They stand on a metal balcony overlooking several huge open vats of various liquids with Lazzar's men huddled behind him.

 LAZZAR: Aquí es donde hacemos el queso del Cheddar.

 SHANA: El Cheddar es delicioso, al igual que munster. Me siento a veces en mi guarida con una bebida y algún queso y es tan... agradables.

 LAZZAR: ¿Así pues, usted goza del Cheddar? Bien, ésta es la vez última que usted oirá las palabras "queso del Cheddar" pronunciado por un humano.
 
 SHANA: ¿Qué?

 LAZZAR: Los caballeros -- la lanzan en la tina de la leche!

 SHANA: ¡Usted no puede luchar las manos de la justicia, "Príncipe Leper"!

NINGUNOS ADIOS

"Firecracker smoke looks like spiders."

Red Loc laughed and lobbed another M-80 into the sky. Years earlier,
Cece's mom cracked wise about how we were the type of kids that toy
with firecrackers on Christmas day. As if we gave a shit about figgy
pudding and singing carols.

Since that 25th of December, we've been practicing the art of the
perfect M-80 toss. It's now July 4th and we look like pros, tossing
one after the other into the air, almost bored with the routine.
Truthfully, we weren't the kind of kids to send cherry bombs into the
neighbor's eaves after first frost, much less light blacksnakes on
frozen lake.

Now, my yard has become a tangle of black widows and Honduran curly hairs.

UNEXPECTED FREUDIAN ISSUES

UNEXPECTED FREUDIAN ISSUES
by B. Thomas Hunter

She said she saw god at the 7-11.
They got shacked up and moved to Manhattan.
They walked the aisle and said they do.
And now he works miracles in the bedroom.