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Do Do Wap is Strong in Here

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Sweating with the Best of Intentions 

whatta screwball day. first, the instructor of my early afternoon class got pissed at everyone and ended the class early. we were supposed to be looking at some childrens books and listing the representations of cultural values, and then we were going to talk about them. the instructor left, and was gone for about 15-20 minutes, so everyone went off to do other things in the lab area adjascent to the classroom, or fell asleep, or sat there wondering what the hell was going on. when the instructor came back and saw a few empty chairs, she said something about no one being interested, threw a stack of hadouts in the trash and left. the class kind of sat there stunned for a minute, and then sort of dazedly wandered out in a piecemeal fashion. then i went up to my sociology class and sat there for 15 minutes, and when the instructor never showed up, everyone wearily filed out of that class. now i'm sitting here in the computer lab wasting time until movie night at danielona's starts in about an hour and a half. it's been kind of a brain jarringly surreal hour or so.

i'm not sure what the hell else to blab about, urrrmm... i could write about the last time the busses went on strike in 1995, and taking a bus to stillwater for the hell of it when the bus strike ended, maybe a story about kickball...agh, fooey, i'm not in much of a loquacious mood. i'm going to go absorb some pathos in other peoples' blogs.

peetq@hotmail.com
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schnarf 

oh it's a scruggle, livin the roughshod lifestyle. toiled over trying to add links, and i'm just posting to make sure it worked. almost done with school, then i get to be in the kindergarten class every day through the end of their year. time to retrieve the balsa wood and horsehair pizza frm the microwave. check out the links i gots over there on the side ------->

peetq@hotmail.com
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Saturday, April 24, 2004

Wrack Mount 

this'll probably sound a little pathetic, but i'm moderately obsessed all of a sudden with a new series of garbage pail kids cards. they were around in the mid eighties, and i wasn't allowed to have any because my parents thought they were too gross. i had a stack in my desk at school anyway. thats right, mom! they were in my desk the whole time! i even tried to make my own when i was 8 or 9. i called them "trash bag boys" or something like that. one of them was a roll of toilet paper with a face. so anyway, feeling a little deprived, and being the nostalgic jackass that i am, i've gone a little overboard with the thought of getting these new garbage pail kids cards. i've gotten about 40 cards in the last few days, and am moronically plotting out when and where i might get some more. please try not to think any less of me. i know i have a problem, but i will run from any attempts at intervention. i blame the enablers at topps. i'm sure it will blow over soon. i'll be back to talking about underpants and taking naps in no time.



peetq@hotmail.com
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Friday, April 23, 2004

I Can't Believe I'm Rummaging Through a Pile of Teeth 

oh, did i ever frolf it up today! first i went all the way out to the middle of nowhere with the farmers, who say they feel under represented here on the blog, and shoved as much pizza down my gullet as i could. then we farmers six went even further out into the suburbials to frolf up a storm. i frolfed up a mighty thirst, and those of us who are of age decided on a whim to trot across the street to a dumpy, dark, depressing bar. bemulleted folk sat silently ripping open pulltabs and staring at their laps, and i unrepentantly had a frosty mug with my fellow farmhands. i'm glad i'm never going to turn into one of those bar regulars who waste away on a barstool while a day like today (or even a kinda crappy day) goes by without their hardly even acknowledging it. we sloshed back across the street and into the park, and could frolf no more.

i managed to eek out a half decent journal entry the other day, whilst moping around dinkytown. maybe part of it will end up here soon. it of course takes place in a kindergarten class. i believe it's nappy-bye time for me.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Wednesday, April 21, 2004

Sign My Jacket 

someone stole sign my jacket's shtick. yesterday, while actually waiting for a real city bus, i saw some andre 3000 lookin' guy walking across the street asking people to sign his jacket. i don't even think he was using it as a ploy to panhandle, and he didn't seem completely out of his mind like the o.g. sign my jacket. the real sign my jacket used to wander around dinkytown or the seward area wearing a jacket with sharpie scribbles all over it. when he didn't have the jacket, he had a big walking stick for people to sign. once he just had a big foam disc. he would rope you in by asking you to sign his stuff, and then ask you for money. he usually followed that up with something that made no sense whatsoever. i was squinting at him once because it was bright, and he said "ain't no ships sailin under me!" and then got pissed off when i only had about nine cents in change.

sign my jacket reminds me of california man. california man would show up every few weeks somewhere along hennepin downtown. he would trot up to us with a big car salesman's grin, shake our hands and then go into his pitch, which was always something like "i just got back from california and i've got about five pounds of weed in the trunk of my car. who's buyin'?" once he came up to us and added that he'd just spilled lsd on his hand.

agh, the olden days again, biting at my heels like a little fishy. i've got plenty of new happenings and people and places to appreciate, i know, i'm just a sappy maudlin bastard sometimes.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Ass Computer 

my neighbors are obnoxious. if i were filling out a survey about them, i would fill in the circle next to "strongly dislike". they yell at eachother at 2 in the morning. the kids up there sound like they are throwing eachother around, and they are not tiny kids. they turn the stereo up until it's distorted, and now they decide its a good idea to barbecue on the back porch, right next to a big wooden house. they dump the ashes from the grill on the porch when theyre done. even when theyre not home, they irk me. they don't pay for a phone, so when people come over, they bang on the door as hard as they can, and keep doing it for about a half hour if no one comes to the door. when they get tired of that, they walk around to the side and yell while they throw rocks at the windows. they've done this at 3 and 5 in the damn morning. once at about 4 am, it sounded like someone was dragging something heavy, like perhaps a body, down the stairs. they had a valentines day party, and the kids up there locked themselves in the bathroom and did something to make water leak down in several streams all over our lavatory.

i've had some bizarrely bad luck with neighbors. my last neighbor, who always asked "hey cat daddy, where the girls at?" everytime i walked by, got arrested twice at about three in the morning, once refusing to come out for about an hour. the kids threw rocks at our garage every morning. the neighbors before that were tame in comparison. they just screamed at eachother all day. before that, when i lived with relay across the street from loring park, we were the noisy neighbors. we had plenty of other things to be perturbed by at that place, though, like the random dribble of brown water that would splash on my bedroom floor every once and a while, or the gushing flood from a broken water pipe, or the gushing flood from the clogged drain in the entryway, or the frequent power outages, or the homeless people pissing in the doorway, and many other tales which i may or may not bore myself and everyone else with over the course of the next few months.

i think i ended up whining an awful lot more than i intended to, but i feel a little better now.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Sunday, April 18, 2004

mmpff 

woke up feeling surly. slept on danielonas floor because of birthday bash on and on to the break a dawn. rolled over, grunt and sniffle, and crawled to the laptop in the corner. still feel surly. not going to bore anybody or indulge my own bullshit. maybe i need more sleep or less dairy product. thanks danielona for a fine hullaballoo and wingding.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Wednesday, April 14, 2004

i just had the greatest time i've had in weeks, sitting here, downloading pronunciations of dirty words and body functions from the mirriam webster website and listening to them on a loop. some erudite man exclaiming "poop poop poop poop poop poop poop poop" in a calm and perfectly enunciated tone. makes a fella feel like he can make it in this fleabag town.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Stupid Goddamn Rassa Frassa... 

goddammit sonuva shit!! i was almost done with the most eloquently profound prose ever plunked out on a keyboard when the pile of crap comuter decides to close down the internet on a whim. it was an ornate golden paean to the glory of imperfection that binds us to eachother in the bruised victory of survival! it was going to save us all, carry us away from corporeal necesities, kiss our foreheads and tuck us into the bunkbed of omniscience. THIS close, people. THIS close to having every question melt away like metaphysical butter sizzling in our brainpans. but its to god damn late now! i can't remember what the answer is anymore, so much for that! maybe the friggin answer was throw your friggin computer in the friggin street! haah? yeah that sounds pretty close.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Monday, April 12, 2004

Outhouses of Valhalla 

fell like i should take advantage of the computer being open, even if i wasn't all that hyped about using it. whatsay i deliver the log o merde?

it was the year twenny hunnerd, i believe, and i was tooling down the Namekagon river in a leaky canoe with Relay, Jayoe and Komy, feeling like a burly alpha male. we had endured the frothy tumult of the sadistic rapids, and Night on Mosquito Island.

it was a relatively calm but torrid day, and i had held the demons at bay for as lonng as my fortitude would allow. we shored up on a boat launch by the freeway on a reservation in northern wisconsin. there were a few kids playing by the water, and ever the benevolent w.a.s.p.s, we gave them the squirtguns we had put in the shopping cart with the other essentials when we stocked up the night before.

my cheap canvas shoes had long since rotted through, and were growing new life forms at the back of one of the canoes. so in 700 degree weather, with no shoes on, i walked on sharp loose gravel up an embankment to the shoulder of the freeway, where there rested a little blue biffy. i had no choice. i opened the door and was infringed upon by an unholy gale of dozens of construction workers baked goods. while it was unbearably hot outside, it was at least 20 degrees warmer inside the booth. i already take my shlumpin' seriously, and have perspired through a few tough ones in my day, but this one would be in a giant microwave after canoing all day in mid july.

i died a little inside as i pirouetted in the little box and commenced to once again complete the circle of creation. the execution of the actual appointed task in an of itself is not where the heroism and fortitude lie in this instance. we have all experienced the nobility and connectedness, however ephemeral, that the act allows us to cradle. how i execute the ritual is mine to own, and has no home in the given forum. this being the spirit of the piece, i will shift focus to other nuances of the ordeal.

up to this point, i hadn't yet considered the mechanics of tidying up, but i could tell i was going to have to employ some sort of fucked up backwards ass yoga techniques to close the deal. as sweat streaked down my sour burly wodsman's frame in a greasy torrent, my limbs flashing across my vision like pink vultures, the blue world of the stall obscured by delusion, my reptile brain took over and the reckoning was ended almost without my being fully aware of my reclaimed relative autonomy.

i burst from the cubicle half expecting to see damn dirty apes reigning gloriously, and dripped down to the landing to conquer the last stretch of the river as i had conquered the blue biffy on the shoulder of a freeway in a reservation in rural wisconsin.

<---Fín--->

peetq@hotmail.com
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Neon Meate Dream of a Octafish 

aawkayy. got a few sappy idears about what to post next, but i don't wanna sit around in the lab area right now and pontificate. as soon as i pick up an extension cord or something, i can use my own computer and not have to wait for an opening in odduhs room.

didn't do a whole lotta anything for most of last week. kind of frustrated by having to concentrate on getting assignments done while i'm in the kindergarten room. it sort of excludes me from being fully involved or even natural. had more free pizza on friday, kicked it with folks at old chicago and watched beer guzzling gaggles of humanity insist that a locked door should open if it is shaken violently enough. that's about the bulk of it. see why i haven't touched this sumbitch all weekend?

coming soon (maybe): a story about taking the bus to stillwater for no good reason, and maybe even that story about perserverence via reverence for dookin' that i promised a while back.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Rock n' Roll Items Part the Second 

was walking home from school, peeked into sun's window, and saw daniel, john, and tim in there rooting around on the floor. i went in, and they were filling up their bags with whatever half interesting junk was left on the floor under the two feet of dusty eighties metal knick knack catalogs and broken glass. daniel had a knit hat full of zippo like lighters. a guns n roses lighter, and a few with bosoms on em. john found some ridiculous white fake leather gloves with big gold zippers on the back, and for some reason, grabbed a bunch of bank deposit bags. i got an M.O.D. sticker that was probably about twenty years old, and a pin that said "metal" and had a skull with two lightening bolts on it. tim found some pins, one of which was a pair of wings with tits in the middle, and a squeeegee. there was a guy in there who was excited about a filthy skid row banner and an iron maiden poster. it was like digging a hole back to junior high. i left smelling like two decades of dust, exhausted, and i still had to walk home. i spoze it was a good way to bid a fond farewell to a place that helped sort of form an identity or sense of connection. sounds kind of stupid when i realize it was just a bunch of goofy buttrock junk. i'm gonna go put my damn M.O.D. sticker up somewhere.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Onion Dip Addicts 

here's the new single from live at budokan. now is naptime. ya bastids. next, something from live at the fillmore east for one jacob donald.

Betty bouffant
Eating croutons
She’s insouciant
Skin translucent
She has fishhooks in her forehead. She’s into that shit. Fine by me. She runs with the fishhook set. She thinks she’s on TV all the time. Good. Whatever. Onion dip addicts. Fishhooks and onion dip strewn about. What yeh do is, ya put a dab of the onion dip on the end of a fishhook, then you take your lighter, or match, or welding equipment, or soldering iron, or whatever’s close at hand, and you burn the dip until it’s molded to the tip of the hook. You then take the white hot hook with the burnt dip smoldering and puncture your forehead with it, slip it through and manipulate the hook in a circle, coating the inside of the pinhole with burnt up dip soot. Then you pretend you’re on TV, on a variety show or soap opera or something. You ham it up amid the rubble of your addiction. Empty plastic containers, tackle boxes, and soiled TV guides


peetq@hotmail.com
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Rock 'n' Roll Items 

i know i said the poop story was next, but i'm not in a poop story mood, and i felt like eulogising Suns. i hadn't been there in about eight years, and i probably wouldn't have been in there anytime soon, but it's still a landmark of my growing up, and a part of something i connect with an identity in whatever tiny way. it didn't have a community around it like hard times does, and it didn't even serve much of a practical function for me anymore. i've got more than enough shirts and i don't need some kind of white trash slogan on a keychain. it's just another reminder that i'm getting older and everything is always changing. i'll miss it in the way i might miss some one eyed teddybear i puked on when i was four, or the pattern of chips and cracks in the stairwell that resembled a face that i turned into some kind of imaginary friend while i was supposed to be in "time-out" and thinking about why it was wrong to lie or talk back or throw things or something like that. missing the senses or ideas associated with an object moreso than the physical thing. not the most profound or original train of thought, just one of the things to be preoccupied about this morning. that's all, maybe a poop story later, but i've got a few more things to do right now before i have to go sit in class.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Saturday, April 03, 2004

Rodent Skeleton Carrying a Duck 

prolly not alot of time here, so i'll go for the brief one and save the tales of yore for later. lotta wandering around the city and futon flopping this week. the muppets thing on monday, then i actually went to hard times for the first time in about a year and a half on wednesday night. same old place, maybe a little smokier than i remembered, but still feels like home base. uptown aaron still wandering around with a dopey smirk on his face, slapping folks on the back and mentioning something about midget porn. which reminds me, on a side note, we were having a heated discussion at old chicago last night and wondered aloud "where are all the great midget zombie movies we were promised when we were shat forth from our respective wombs?" any damn way, where was i? after hanging out at hard times for awhile, ended up back at dan and ilonas for more movies and flopping, the flopping resulting in many greasy stinky walks home. my whole story got convoluted and halted here by that midget zombie aside. ok, so that was basically my week, the walking, flopping, movie week.

i'm putting about as little effort into school as i ever have, i think. i'm still getting things done, just with minimal involvement. i think i'm going to join in on the straightening up of the crib, so it looks like someone actually lives here, instead of a place for excess recycling and compost. next post: the most agonizing dook i've ever endured will be expounded upon.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Friday, April 02, 2004

Rawk Robots of Planet RAWK 

now that the comments seem to be working, and the archive thing is up, (although not apparently archiving anything, while simultaneously bringing back posts i thought i'd deleted) i feel like i should be putting up something new that ammounts to something more than babbling and whining about screwing around with a computer. so i'll pick another journal thing and slap it here.

I’ll be a recess lady, I don’t mind. Swing a whistle around, stand on the foursquare court or whatever. Say "HEY!" and point. The shit in my glass has coagulated. I like it, though, thick cold and sweet. I horff it. The chilluns is scampering hither and thither. My stilted sentences are caused by several synapses and receptors being devoted to the headphones. Right now, I’m commencing to space out and float on the vapors of the spacerock, rocket into space. I am rocking right now. I’m space rocking. More kids are excitedly flushing out onto the tarmac. The recess ladyman is kicking the children on the shins. Smug twee basserd. He looks like a McDonald’s manager. The spacerock is now accelerating through the cosmos on its way to planet RAWK. I put my refractive Mylar tinfoil pants on, my oversized gardening gloves, and my colander helmet, and disembark. The drunken robots of planet RAWK approach tentatively. They pause, bobble around behind a filthy pile of refrigerator motors, and chirp excitedly. I stand at the ready, spatula/laser tightly clamped in my sweaty fist. I want them to know I only wish to rawk with the rawk robots, I worry about it. I often worry about communication problems. Misunderstandings are a much more massive problem than people seem to recognize. Suddenly, I am struck by inspirata. I raise my fist heavenward and extend the index and pinky fingers and emit a "AAAYAYAYAYAYAAAAWWW!" or rawk yelp. Meters whir and chime, large diodes flash on their torsos. Tiny propellers pop out from what I would say could be approximated as the temple area. They echo an electronic replica of the rawk yelp, and we proceed to rawk out together. A camaraderie surpassing the limitations of language. Later, they take me back to their interconnected steel caverns and show me their Yngwie Malmsteen posters and green, skull-shaped bongs. I toke with them and we party. The rawk cannot cease. Blacklights pop out from little rectangular backpacks on the rawk robots of planet rawk, and we rawk even harder. As we pull into the 5a.m. port, I try to explain that I cannot rawk and party much longer. I am not designed for it, as they are. They emit a dejected computer hum, slowly retract the blacklights and escort me back to my rocket ship of rocking, the rawk rocket ship, ship of rawk, rawk ship, rocking rawk rocket, rocketship. They bid me farewell, and I fire up the translucent transmutation tubes and prepare myself for space flight. Strap myself into the swiveling captain’s bucket seat, tap green and orange buttons on the console and dislodge from the terra. A tear is shed for times past. I wave morosely through the porthole and weep uncontrollably as I look upon the rawk robots of planet rawk for the last time.

peetq@hotmail.com
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Folderol and Gewgaw 

i'm trying to get comments to be an option for the page. i have no idea what i'm doing. i tried to get rid of a few posts a while ago and nothing happened. i also tried to start archiving posts, but nothing happened then either. so i'll crap if this actually works. when i inserted whatever codes i needed for comments, the page read "you must your blog to see changes", so that was infinitely helpfull. an actual posting with decent content might be forthcoming.

peetq@hotmail.com
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