ennui du pantleg

From 8-3

2005-08-30T14:36:00.000-05:00

lessee... what did i do yestidee... i set out for a place called the "red and black cafe" about ten blocks south (i think) of here. i saw a picture on the photo sight of a neon sign above the door that said "i love my brain" and i had to check it out. it's a tiny corner cafe that serves food, libations, sundry coffee things and has occasional live performances. i had some broccoli noodle bake thing, glanced around for a while and took off for nearby clinton street, which has a wide open intersection with a very old theater on one corner and shops radiating out for about a block in each direction. at this intersection, there is also "green noise records" - a little place that sells mostly punk and old garage stuff.

i poked around in there for a while and then decided to head back north, past the house to the kearns neighborhood. the broccoli bake stuff wasn't very filling, so on the way i stopped at the lucky labrador for a sammy and some soup. quite stirring. i took a bus up belmont for about 15 blocks to shorten the walk a little, and crossed over from there to burnside, where the laurelhurst theater anchors the neighborhood. there was another cool strip of shops and bars along 28th starting at burnside, including a junk shop called "smut" which was blasting "now i wanna be your dog" when i passed. i hung around the area for a little while snapping pictures and having a sody, and then headed back toward belmont. on the way, i sat for a spell in laurelhurst park, which is apparently a whole hell of a lot bigger than the little corner sliver i came through. i got up and walked to belmont, hitting it right where the avalon theater sits, and whent in for a while to play old school games i had completely forgotten about for about 15cents a pop.

after i got good and bug eyed, i hopped on a bus back to 15th, the street daniel and ilona live on, got home and waited for daniel to get off work. when he got back, we ate some tasty ass lasagne and took off for the kennedy school, an old elementary school that has been turned into a hotel, restaurant and second run theater. the theater is in the old auditorium, and the seats are all plush chairs and sofas. the detention room was turned into a bar, and the teacher's lounge is now some kind of relaxation pool or something. the halls are lined with old pictures that are probably from yearbooks, and there's a courtyard in the middle which is the main restaurant space. ridiculuosly awesome, i say. after the movie, we came home, daniel and ilona went sleepy-bye, and i stayed up for a bit to eat cold lasagne with apple juice and jelly beans and watch the movie D.A.R.Y.L.

peetq@hotmail.com

From 8-1

2005-08-25T00:11:00.000-05:00

i'm sitting on the campus of portland state university. i wanted to check out this southwest park promenade thing one of the guidebooks mentioned. i saw a big old theater that apparently has six or so smaller theaters inside, and walked by the portland art museum, but they were closed. it costs ten damn dollars to get in, anyway. other than that, i saw a huge deer statue in the middle of the street and a bunch of clusters of street kids hanging around the park strip. the strip runs about ten blocks and ends here at the university.

yesterday was a lazy day hanging around the house, but i feel like that's part of experiencing portland the right way anyhow, so i didn't feel like i was missing anything. we had a barbeque on daniel and ilona's back balcony that no one showed up for, save for one co-worker of daniel's. we had grilled chicken with a tasty ass lime marinade that ilona put together, and corn on the cob grilled inside the husk with some olive and herb butter concoction that was so damn tasty i ate it like dip a couple times. we watched the sun set from the back porch and then came in and fell asleep during a viewing of temple of doom. daniel and ilona woke up and moved to thier bedroom, and i took off down hawthorne and walked twenty blocks up to the bagdad.

on the way up, two guys stopped me, and the one with the flavor saver said "einstein or dr. seuss?" of course i said dr. seuss, and flavor saver's friend protested and said the other guy was fixing the results and distorting the question. the real question was "who said 'there is no bigger than big or smaller than small'?" one guy thinks einstein, and the other thinks dr. seuss. i was instructed to look it up, but i haven't yet.

at the bagdad, i had a local brew called 'black rabbit porter'. it was very dark, very smooth, and damn tasty when combined with my order of art dip and chips. i didn't stay too long, just had the pint and chips and watched people walk and bike by, then fiddled around in a hollywood video while i waited for a bus to arrive. i'm going to check out more of the campus now, and then go to a movie and dinner later tonight.

later: wandered through downtown, stopped to rest at the southern end of tom mccall park - a long strip that was going to be a freeway, but plans were dropped and it became a park along the willamette. walked back over the hawthorne bridge and wandered through the neighborhood on the way back to the house. came across a place called the 'lucky labrador', a cool converted warehouse with a big vaulted roof and old cinderblock walls and a big patio. of course they have their own brews, so i tried a porter, which was pretty good but not quite as good as the black rabbit, and finished the walk back to the house. daniel got back from work and we went out to another cheap theater/restaurant owned by the same brothers who seem to own half the town, the mcmenamins. this one is called the mission and is an old converted swedish evangelical church. we had some dinner and watched the mediocre 'bewitched'. afterward, we drove around for a while through the north neighborhoods, stopped at a grocery store with jelly bean dispensers and soft chairs by the magazine rack, came home and daniel and ilona made an assload of lasagne and went to bed. i stayed up looking at a wbsite that has a bunch of photos of portland organized by neighborhood, so i have a whole list of places to check out now.

peetq@hotmail.com

From 7-30

2005-08-21T23:45:00.000-05:00

took a day trip to astoria, oregon, a town about 90 miles northwest of portland where goonies was filmed. we stopped off for a little while in a town south of there called seaside. pretty much a tourist trap kind of place that has a noisy crowded junk shop area like a minniature version of pier 39 in san fran. we waded in the ocean for a while, though, so it was worth it.

after seaside, we drove into astoria and stopped at the visitors center for some maps. just about everyone who stops in there wants to know where the goonies stuff is, so they sell a little movie site booklet and map for us gomers. the first place we tried to go was mikey's house. it's up on a hill at the end of a private driveway with a sign at the mouth of the driveway that says NO CARS in fat tip marker. those people probably get 70 visitors a day coming up to the house to do the truffle shuffle. we felt a little squeamish about going up there, so we drove over to the jailhouse and the "flavel house" next. the flavel house, which was a museum in goonies, is a big old victorian mansion that holds tours detailing the life of one of the founders of the town, and the jailhouse, the one the fratelli's busted outta, is across the street.

i think that sort of exhausted the movie sights we could find, so we went to the "astoria column", a tower on top of a big bluff on the edge of town. from the bluff, we could see the mouth of the columbia river, which lets out into a huge bay, a gigantic bridge connecting astoria to washington, distant bluffs and farmland stretching out at the base of the bluffs toward a swampy river valley, a bunch of barges moored out in the river, and the whole town of astoria. daniel and i also climbed the spiral staircase in the column 160-some steps to an observation deck at the top. we were sweaty sunsabitches after that. the view was ridiculous from up there. the planet looks pretty overwhelmingly beautiful in the little patches where people haven't fucked it up yet.

after we wound our way down the bluff, we took a different route home along the columbia river, making a round trip loop. i was shown another interesting neighborhood in the northwest corner of portland, kind of like uptown, only with a quieter residential atmosphere and not totally ruined with designer whitebread donkey shit. we were going to go see a movie at an old elementary school that's been converted to a theater and hotel, but it wa packed, so we got some ice cream and came home to sleep instead.

peetq@hotmail.com

From 7-29

2005-08-19T00:08:00.000-05:00

went into downtown with relay to eat at the "roach coaches" - a block long line-up of carts and trailers that sell various types of food. i had a fat lump of some chicken vindaloo. after all that curry, i did'n't feel much like strolling, so we went back to the house.

on the way, we walked along the bank of the willamette, which is where one of several warehouse districts is located. among the crumbly buildings, railroad tracks and pissy smell is a 4 storey building filled with factory overstock and fire damage type stuff including those square jesus pictures with a spinning neon spiral behind them.

once home, we both kind of lolled around all afternoon - sat out on the porch for a while and nodded off while watching the last star fighter. ilona came home and took a nap while relay and i went up to the lab to cut some new mouthbreather tracks. not too sure about the new material as of yet. we closed up shop, roused ilona, and headed off to the bagdad theater about 20 blocks up hawthorne to see hitch hikers guide to the galaxy.

the bagdad's pretty damn awesome. they sell pizza by the slice and a bunch of locally brewed beers that you can eat and drink in the theater on skinny little tables that run the length of the isles, and the movie ticket goes for three bucks. a fine time. beer, dogs, parks, bridges, bikes, and interesting neighborhoods. i like portland because the way it's set up encourages walking through, relaxing in, and exploring each unique little area that crops up between quiet residential spaces. profoundly stellar. time for bed.

peetq@hotmail.com

From 7-28

2005-08-16T22:47:00.000-05:00

left around 10am and headed into downtown along hawthorne. the willamette river bisects portland, and most of the bridges over the river are wobbly old lift bridges. big iron towers stick up in the middle of some of them, and i could see the cables and gears that lift a section of the bridge up. had some halfway decent indian food upon crossing the bridge into downtown. food is alot cheaper here than it was in san francisco. after the food, i sort of picked whichever direction looked most interesting, and when i saw on my little map that i was getting closer to powell's books, i headed that way.

powell's is - i think - the biggest book store in the country. it's four storeys tall and takes up the entire block. they give you a map at the front counter. the rooms are color coded, and the sections of the rooms are broken down into categories as specific as 'aviation-civil' and 'feng shui'. feng fucking shui gets a section all to itself. i could've engraved your name in glass with my nipples. it was too much to handle, i had to leave.

i headed back toward the river by the same method i had used to come out, and i ended up at the amtrak depot. i saw its clock tower poking out from a few blocks away, and i had to go take a look. it's a pretty old brick building - looks like 80-100 years - and at first i mistook it for a hotel. i was sweaty and thirsty so i went into the restaurant/bar off to one side of the building and had a frosty beverage. the barkeep chatted me up, found out i was an auslander, and gave me a pretty interesting visitor's guide that has a section on every neighborhood. i packed up and headed back over the river via another wobbling lift bridge. the return trip ended up being a little further than i was expecting. it was effin hot today, i stunk myself up and contracted babboon ass rel good-like.

when i got back, i recouperated a while with relay, and then we headed down belmont street. belmont has its own little district, similar to the hawthorne district. we went into the avalon theater, which is a combination cheap second run theater and nickel arcade. you pay 2.50 to get in, trade cash in for a sammich bag full of nickels, and go play video games for ten or fifteen cents apiece. they had old school games, ski ball, and a whole bunch of games from japan, i mean machines that still had the price to play listed in yen. there was some game called "guitar freaks" or something like that, where the controls are on a little half size guitar, and some flying bicycle game that was controlled by pedaling an actual little bike. nutty.

after the video games, ilona chrislon picked us up and we went to alberta avenue for "last thursday". every last thursday of the month, alberta avenue has about twenty blocks of art galleries and music and food and mini parades out on the sidewalk. we saw a bunch of dudes roll by on a motorized picnic table. it's like the uptown art fair, except every month and not asinine. we didn't stay too long, though, on account of the babboon ass shredding my bathing suit area into ground chuck. we took the scenic route home and watched the movie dodgeball, which brought me back to the glory of yesteryear.

peetq@hotmail.com

From 7-27

2005-08-16T22:39:00.000-05:00

the sun bounced off the wing of the plane and hit me in the forehead for the whole trip. we were only in the air for 30-45 minutes. some queasy turbulence close to landing was irksome. met up with daniel and ilona at the airport, drove to the hollywood neighborhood and bought some bird food and a burrito. came back to their place for the grand tour, a brief appreciation of the back balcony, and then a long walk up and down hawthorne street, the main drag of the hawthorne neighborhood. lotsa small restaurants, couple few theaters, antique shops, a hostal, what not and what have you. it's late, it's hot, time to pass out.

peetq@hotmail.com

I'm. Is. A. Wo. Bot.

2005-08-16T22:03:00.000-05:00

draws is playin shoot em ups on the television, and i'm just sitting here sweating, so i figured i might as well transcribe some of the portland journal. i think parts of it might be a little dry, but i tried to spice it up a little every now and then. i've been taking the last bus of the night home alot lately. my super keen friend alana made me a cake for my birthday shaped like the letter "p" for pete with malted milkballs on top. i ripped the stick part offa the p and ate it whole while trying to balance the cake pan with one hand on my walk to the bus stop. the thing was unwieldy, and i hope this is ok with alana charles, but i grabbed a plastic knife from a greek restaurant and chopped off pieces of the cake for anyone on the street who wanted one. there was a big crowd getting out of an event at the intermedia arts building and that's where i got rid of most of it. it was damn delicious and really cool, but this way, i was able to share some and stow the pan in my bag. another late night bus trip happened after seeing a friggin wonderful band called gogol bordello. i think they're mostly ukrainian, but they live in new york. they play alot of eastern european style music with some noise and dub tossed in there, and at the show, every few songs two women would bound on stage in odd dancer/football pants costumes and bang on cymbals, a giant marching band bass drum, or scrape on some beat up washboards and jump around. i thought they were pretty dang beautiful, and i've been listening to their album all week. yeh, so bloggedy bloggedy bleff and so forth. now, in a new post, i will lay down some of the travel journal.

peetq@hotmail.com

Panda Sex Makes Panda Babies

2005-08-10T17:39:00.000-05:00

first, i will take a stab at reconstructing some of the salient happenings in oakland/san francisco/berkely using the photo album i toiled over as a guide, and then i'll transcribe my groggy notebook entries one or two a day from potland. i'm putting all my energy into finding a place to live and a job now that i'm back, so my brain is floating somewhere out in the intersection of 14th and hennepin right now.

anyhow... let's see... what did i do in the bay area? well, i roomed with the lovely dom and m'me bammer blue in a comfortable, mostly quiet area of north oakland just off an interesting main drag called piedmont ave. piedmont had a bunch of cool restaurants and a hoity toity grocery store. i visited about 15 places along that street, and got fish taco platters at one place 3 times.

they lived not too far away from a salt water lake called lake merritt that i walked around one day while dom was making some hipsters their omlettes at mama's royal cafe a few blocks away from the apartment. lake merritt has a run down mini amusement park next to it called childrens fairyland, which i found plenty creepy. i sat and read a local city pages type paper on the steps of the oakland crematorium, the three of us went to a massive old vaudvilian theater called the grand lake theater and saw charlie and the chocolate factory, and i climbed to the top of a terraced cemetary on the side of a steep hill in oakland that had an amazing view of san fran, oakland and the bay.

the best part of being on the east bay wa heading out to berkely. if i lived there, i think i would spend all my free time sitting in a cafe across from the campus or find a shady spot somewhere on the campus proper and just watch people and read all day. the main street that runs into the campus is telegraph avenue. telegraph had alot of hairy street vendors on it and a bunch of cool record and book stores. dom and i got some giant crepes at a place called crepes a go go, and found a cool block of shops on the north end of the campus. tzuen, a friend and old roommate of dom's lives in berkely, and we wandered around with her for a while.

in san francisco, i walked to the top of nob hill downtown, which was a bastard son of a bitch to climb, but i was trying to kill time while i waited for a really tasty thai place to open and gimme a big ass bowl of their curry noodle soup. that was the day i also spent about four hours in golden gate park, out on the end of haight street, wandering through the japanese tea garden, a few small lakes, and getting lost as hell a few times. i popped out at the ocean and sat there listening to it for a while before taking a bus back to the haight and eating some delicious pizza. the haight is where amoeba records, supposedly the best record store in the country, is located. it's huge. the place used to be a bowling alley. effing huge.

i walked through china town and realized too late that i was a big mark because of the camera hanging around my neck, and got harangued into eating at a place called, imaginitively enough, the chinatown restaurant. the place wasn't bad, but i kept my camera in my pocket after that. chinatown runs into the north beach neighborhood, an italian area where city lights books is located. city lights was started by the poet lawrence ferlinghetti, who was my introduction to beat culture, so for me it was like a shovel to the face to be standing there. there's a poetry room upstairs, and a cool basement area with a door that has the words "i am the door" painted on it. north beach runs into the embarcadero area and the wharf. there was a big annoying tourist part called pier 39 which we avoided, and a fairly empty pier from which we watched a sea lion bark and a dense lump of fog move over alcatraz. i spent a day sitting in an epty club where dom used to work the door watching another old roommate put together a booth, and visited dom's old crib in a run down area in either the mission or soma district or maybe it was neither, i'm not sure.

what else... didn't see the golden gate bridge up close, maybe next time. i also wanted to check out the asian art museum, but it was ten bucks to get in, and i went a little spastic with cash on the chinatown/north beach/embarcadero day, so another time for that one too, i guess. i think that about covers what i can piece together. i walked all day every day for the whole trip, and only got babboon ass once. my face peeled off in oakland, though. on my last day, i had a farewell meal at mama's, got on the bart to the airport, and went to portland, the details of which i can transcribe as soon as the muscles in my hands work again.

peetq@hotmail.com

Please Do Not Bend

2005-07-31T15:12:00.000-05:00

i can't let an entire month go buy with nothing posted, now can i? this, however, will end up being kind of a mock post to save me from that shame. i spent a week and a half in san francisco with dom and blue, and now i'm in the middle of my week and a half with daniel and ilona in portland. i'll have to give the abridged account of san fran, oakland and berkely, but i managed to remember to write little journal entries about the days in portland. later for that, though, because it's time for a barbecue on the back balcony.

peetq@hotmail.com

A Poodle Skirt for Delilah

2005-06-28T23:47:00.000-05:00

don't call it a comeback, i been here for years...

it's like this, yawl - see i had went to the store, right, to pick up a jar of marshmallow cream and eat the entire thing with a plastic spoon, when this person, a little dutch looking person, with the liederhosen and clogs and what have you - what i would have assumed was a child except for the stubble - stepped in front of me and said "ay, you ever seen a wood sprite? like a fuckin real one? check this out, i got a four inch tall wood sprite frozen inside a mason jar back at my house, but you gotta come now, elsewise i'm leavin town, and i'm takin tinkerbell with me" he already had me by my pants pocket before he finished his little story, and while he was plenty creepy, he seemed harmless and even a little sad. i needed to cut down on the marshmallow cream, anyway, to get under the weight limit for hang gliding.

so the dutch midget pulled me by the crotch for about three blocks until we were standing in the dingy shadow of an abandoned church. he flapped a rubbery limb in the direction of a tarp covering the splintered door to the cellar, grunted and whined and dragged me inside. once we were past the entrance, all i could make out was the silver curve of a heating duct running a few inches below the ceiling and curving off somewhere upstairs, and the shadows of an angular mound of furniture stacked against the far wall. i could hear the dwarf shuffling around in an agitated circle behind me, kicking over metal sounding objects and swearing quietly. then, after a brief silence, i heard a long, high-pitched squeal and, concurrent with the moment of blackout, a wet slap like a cue ball thrown into a bucket of wheat paste.

i awoke nude and reeking of fish in the center of a crudely etched chalk circle on a landing close to the top of the belfry. my fingers were covered in something like tar, black and sticky. i propped myself against the wall of the stairwell, taking in deep, dusty gulps of air, and slowly regained a tenuous focus. i saw that my pants were draped over a railing just out of reach, and that something was pinned to them. wobbling closer, i swiped the object off my pants and stared at it for awhile until i could discern the shape of a goblet, fashioned out of notebook paper. upon unravelling the goblet, i could read the phrase "don't stop believin'" written in droopy cursive with a charcoal pencil. the i's were topped with little smiley faces. after slumping over and having a good long healthy weeping session, i yanked my pants on, and shirtless, man-tatters jouncing furiously, jogged without ceasing until i reached my back porch. shame has prevented me from speaking of the ordeal for these last few weeks, but now, in its wake, i flounder in abject apathy and no longer care if the world knows a dutch midget buggered me... with a fish... in an abandoned church.

so thats where i've been, sally jesse, and if there's one thing i've learned from this - well maybe not learned so much as qualified through experience - it's never trust a fucking midget.

peetq@hotmail.com

peetq@hotmail.com

Hirsute Brutes

2005-05-03T00:38:00.000-05:00

lordamighty, there actually is a goddamn beard wars. screw finals week, i gotta train and stock up on beeswax.

peetq@hotmail.com

Paper Plate, Ankle Weight, Pasty Pate, Satiate

2005-04-28T18:17:00.000-05:00

it's me and about thirty hyper women who interact with four year olds all day long. we're playing finals review jeopardy and baking 7 dozen chocalate chip cookies. i burnt the shit out of about half of them and got kicked out of the kitchen area of our mock classroom. i feel like i broke up a tupperware party. snuck out the back and came down here where i have a clear line to the park should they decide to pelt me with the burnt up cookies. the mind recoils in horror, as the good doctor used to say.
peetq@hotmail.com

Envase Exclusivo Para Refresco

2005-04-22T17:06:00.000-05:00

we were making pictures in the art corner today using those little multi-colored geometric stickers, and this was the conversation that showed me i picked the right place to be today:

kid: "i'm making a power flower!"
me: "what can you do with a power flower?"
kid: "monkey fight!"

then we counted houses in the neighborhood and noticed a disproportionately large ammount of brown stucco. after school, i walked home drinking an elongated bottle of mexican coke that cost almost twice as much as the larger bottle next to it in the cooler, but the mexican one is shaped funny and has mexican words stamped on it, so it's all relative. now i have to go downtown and get my ass handed to me in beard wars '05. i've got no chance against that guy from iron and wine. have you seen that man's majestic beard? i could but graze it as it perches there upon his face and never again know fear.

peetq@hotmail.com

Yoga Booty Ballet

2005-04-20T01:40:00.000-05:00

i just want everyone to know that if you come over and see my bed, it's not what it looks like. that's chocolate from a grasshopper fudge mint cookie. i eat them about four at a time while i play some sonic the hedgehog, and i got to the water board the other night and dr. robotnik was pissing me off and maybe i spit some cookie crumbs onto the bed but i can't recall. in any event, my self regulating, unconcious functions are all in sterling working order, and as much as some sickly section of my being is alright with sitting around in pampers playing altered beast and golden axe while a dumptruck filled with fudge backs up to my bedroom window and slathers me in its flawlessness, i haven't quite slid to that depth yet. i can still manage to make my bears in the bear makin' room next to the kitchen.

peetq@hotmail.com

2005-04-13T03:30:00.000-05:00

time's sick attacks
a glut, an abscess in the mouth
what is stopped with sugars
pasted to my cheeks
your presence says for me

peetq@hotmail.comü

I Know A Dude, Name a Keegs

2005-03-25T16:30:00.000-06:00

hells yeeyuh

and the afformentioned paintings

peetq@hotmail.com

Diese Bist eine Toten Blog

2005-03-16T16:20:00.000-06:00

this, buster brown, is a blog gone flatter than a warm tub of root beer faygo. for some reason there is bacitracin and used band-aids smeared all over this desk. well, honestly, if anything worth writing about was happening lately, i'd use it to stuff up the cracks in this dealy, but mostly what i do lately is panic over getting assignments done. eeerrrr... i got some wierd square toed brown shoes that look a little like clogs... i finally got an assignment done with this years kindergarteners. i stole a warmup game from comedysportz. they stuck with it for about 5 minutes before they started crawling under things and running to the back of the room to turn the sink on just enough so that the water pressure would make the pipes groan and shake. i think they're going batty. they hardly get to go outside anymore, and it makes them want to anihilate their oppressor. i've really got to go get my whatnot together now and get this paper closer to done so's i can get gradjeeated and not have to worry about papers being due no more. look for things to pick up maybe in the next couplea months.

peetq@hotmail.com

Take the Guess Work out of Hanging a Towel Rack

2005-02-22T20:00:00.000-06:00

i'm stuck at a library out in the suburbials. i came all the way out here to vacuum a floor.

i got my regulation size officially sanctioned canadian ninja hat from two real live free-range canadians. those canadians and their ninja activities. my ninja hat comes equipped with accomodations for a hard hat, so i'm pretty pumped to find some alone time at work when i can stuff a hard hat down my pants and sneak out the back door. i wish i was wearing my ninja hat right now. i accidentally got glitter on it, so now i'm kind of a "fabulous" canadian ninja, but sometimes that's just how we canadians run our shit. one of my fellow canadians wants to walk into a convenience store wearing our ninja hats, but i don't think that idea's so hot. i'd rather just sport it around the neighborhhod, or run around the house with the hat on and nothing else, kitchen utensils velcroed into the hard hat straps.

my bus driver today had 9 1/2 fingers, it was riveting. it made me think of a cantankerous cashier at a super america i used to frequent who had ten fingers, and then a dangly little nub with a nail embedded in it. and that got me thinking 'hey, wouldn't it be great if those two guys had some way of getting together and sorting out eachother's nubs? like a hotline or something where they could set everything up, like who would do the slicing and the sewing, all the sundry details like that? they'd probably even form a lifelong bond, and have a little routine they put together for dinner parties, like the extra nub guy would rub his temples like he was in deep concentration, and the 9 1/2 guy would start waving his hand around and yelling "woah, man! i can't control it! somethin's got my finger in some kind of voodoo mind lock man!" and i think that's what it's really all about, deep underneath the noise and the rot and the tedium of life. some people are missin a little nub somewhere, and some people got little danglies, and we just gotta trade up.

peetq@hotmail.com

There are No Words

2005-02-17T15:46:00.000-06:00

holy effing jeezis

peetq@hotmail.com

Chu! Chu! Chu!

2005-02-15T18:26:00.000-06:00

i ain't did shit in about a minute, that's why ain't shit been goin' on up here.

i keep walking into the same stores and staring at the same crap i can't buy. i would be indulging some weird whims if money weren't an issue. i flipped through photography books by arbus and "weegee", looked at a howlin' wolf biography, a book about the places dillinger frequented in st. paul, a book about minnesota prisons around the turn of the 20th century, and a book about the legendary blues story of a pimp named stack lee, or sometimes stagger lee or stack-o-lee. but i don't got no money, so i just got irked is all. i licked my psychic wounds with a chocolate covered tongue, walked to the ding dang bus stop and sat on a cold ass bus bench until the bus came to hasten me toward home. no swass marks when the bench is cold, you know.

anyway, if you havent plucked your eyeballs out with a melon baller yet on account a cause this particular entry is so putrid, part two of the post has been comissioned by a certain lady stuck out in michigan at some bass-ackwards school where you go straight to hell if you don't maintain a 3.5 gpa or something like that. a certain lady who will do karate on you and kick your testicles off, even if you're not a dude and don't got testicles. she understands that kids are always cooler than boring ass tired old pissed off grown folk, and she puts up with o-drawers, which is also commendable. we are both getting tired of school. we bridge the gap across time zones in solidarity strengthened by our mutual burnted outedness. lessee, what else... long hair? what'd i miss... anything? well, her name is jess and she will judo chop me in the junk if i don't mention her name, but i probably would have eventually anyway.

peetq@hotmail.com

Tootie Tah

2005-01-31T16:59:00.000-06:00

i was going to type up something last week about the floor smelling spicy, or the patterns made by the holes in my pants or something, but i had been up for about twenty hours and using this thing as a sleep deprivation experiment seemed like a shitty idea even from that state of wobbly mental faculties. however, that still left this piece of dog dump blog looking like a supperating aperture from whence a piece of dog dump might squidge.

sometimes, for vast stretches of days, it just doesn't seem to me that i'm considering or processing much beyond my usual misanthropic flash, or immediate reflexive things like "now i put my pants on, next, i should put todays books in my bag." i think larger things i mull over are usually too close to see. sometimes that's good though, making ideals second nature when the ideals are translated to action. dunno. yeh. tired of second guessing myself all the time.

"now i end the post and go to sociology, where we will talk about the day when big easter island headed robots with weed-whackers for mouths will eat everybody except for the luddites, who will tunnel under the city and begin the humping that will create the army that will overthrow the easter island headed weed-whacker robots."

peetq@hotmail.com

Folksy Knockwurst

2005-01-19T11:46:00.000-06:00

figure i better grease somethin' up and send it down the chute even if life feels like turd flambe right now. i'm in the computer lab listening to keyboards rattle all around me and steeling myself for a good three hours of textbook reading.

here are some things i've been eating lately: strawberry pudding, s'mores, yams, celery, cheese sauce, spinach, and root beer barrels.

i probably won't give this thing too much consideration over the next few months on account a cause i have essentially six classes right now and it's my last semester and i just want to squeeze through it and get it over with.

did you know that sometimes (maybe even usually) all a kid needs to calm down and think clearer is a halfway decent backrub? i kinda wish we could've walked into big people school on the first day a year and a half ago and been greeted by someone holding a stack of degrees who said something like "try backrubs and speaking a little slower and quieter than usual. here's your degree." but here i am, poking through theorems and diagrams and spinning books around to try and decipher which way "figure 5b" is supposed to face and whatnot. speaking of which, it's time to get into "chapter two: didactic stories"...

peetq@hotmail.com

See the Streetlights as Fairgrounds

2005-01-06T17:57:00.000-06:00

i should like a verdant archipelago for my friends and me. something in temperate climes, a short ferry ride away from a cheapo and a dessicated one screen cinema which should probably be owned and operated by danielona. there would be the weekly band meeting in the cave on the shaded side of the hill in the center of the largest island, where we would play instruments made of rodent bones and bark and write songs about how the island was the shit. also, fingerpainting on the beach, saturdays at noon, and a thriving bartering system based on keeg's and daniel's and ilona's paintings and the 4 track demos cut by the band. i'll walk around taking pictures of insects and sand and oars to make more of my body function/solitude picture books and try to get some rolaids or artichoke dip for them at the trading post. what else... probably an island to be used solely for dodgeball tournaments and/or kickball, and theres probably also got to be a statue or shrine or something like that. most of these island tribes had their creepy shrines, so howsabout... oh i dunno... something to keep the curious away like a big bronze nude willford brimley eating kittens right out in the middle of the bay somewhere. that should do it, i think.

peetq@hotmail.com

Ceilin's Peelin'

2004-12-31T02:05:00.000-06:00

took the last bus home from danielona's with a giant bag of used socks in my lap after playing some high stakes dice game called "fuk-o-lump" or something of the sort. tired now.

i'm an ice princess, for the benefit of everyone who didn't already know. i went skating with carly "carls carlsbad cavern dr. quinn sehr" schoen last week. i did a triple lutz and then carls stole the limelight with a spin move that put a crater eight inches deep in the center of the rink. we finished off with our tribute to the gripping cinematic work of samuel fuller and recieved a 4.7 from the hot dog guy.

it's been a shiny year what with the chilluns and the almost having a grasp on what the hell i'm doing and the like. looks like the only option for next year that won't get me stranded alone somewhere in the middle of the country is a move to portland, so alone it is i guess. portland, for gadsakes. everybody's moving to portland. they could at least move to astoria, oregon and strike up relationships with the people from that documentary "goonies".

aaaaarright, this entry smells like a poopy butt and i need to sleep.

peetq@hotmail.com

I Love Everything Except School

2004-12-22T03:25:00.000-06:00

hokey doke, it's long past time to slap something up here. school's done, and i feel like the belle of the damn ball. got my winter break novel selection all lined up, py-jammies on, pizza in my lap... fully prepared to come nowhere near all the plans i had for the break. my boy danielona finally graduated, i think that warrants at least a mention. mahfukkas worked their arses all the way off all week long, and still managed to have a spread at the celebration capable of shredding my gut like a culinary chainsaw. i had some late night rock n' roll jam sessions with the sensual dan weaver of the weaver family players. we layed some tracks in the studio, totally off the cuff, you know, just played it how we felt it, man. we were at that place in our conciousness, you know, where time totally starts to bend like an origami swan, yeah? i guess we'll just keep ridin that celestial rock wave until we get tired of surfing with the alien, broham... going ice skating - or probably more accurately, ankle breaking - tomorrow afternoon at the converted depot. should be emasculating and frigid, which are coincidentally the first two qualities i look for in a perfect life mate. then it's just more food folks and fun through the end of the year for me. may all your blankies, metaphysical and otherwise, be enormous and floofy. may all your castle levels not be the one where you have to remember that bottom, middle, top pattern, and may your poots smell like fresh laundry forever hence.

peetq@hotmail.com

Loaves of the Blessed Dead

2004-12-16T14:52:00.000-06:00

another ugly piledriver of a week for me, but as the great z-rock hawaii once said, "the pile driver's gonna make it all worthwhile". been feeling like a big festering lesion for a few weeks now, but i had some skabetti and chance meetings with pals on the street and colored some little orphan annie pictures with the chilluns, so i'm managing to doggy paddle along for now. one of the first things a kid said to me yesterday morning, before i talked to anyone, was "are you tired?" i caught a glimpse of my gummy red eyeballs a few minutes later and thought that if it werent for the swing pushin', the kids wouldn't even have let my transient drunkard lookin' ass in the room. this entry seems to sound an awful lot like most of the last month's worth of prattle. poo-poo wee-wah... yes, and so now, i must go catch a bus into the suburbials.

peetq@hotmail.com

Ermine Furs Adorn Imperious

2004-12-13T13:59:00.000-06:00

a riddle i was trying to figure out right before the alarm woke me up:

a cow stands alone in the middle of a vast pasture. in your hand is a gold coin. you must extract milk from the cow by gently lifting the udder using only the coin. about the coin: is there something you don't know that you should?

i'm not sure, but i bet the answer might make jesus come back. except he'll just stay for an ice cream social, and then take off in his space taxi.

peetq@hotmail.comp

A Shantyman's Life is a Wearisome One

2004-12-07T13:21:00.000-06:00

school can go ahead and be over any damn time now. last thursdays history class was one of the most ridiculously boring things i've ever experienced. you should've seen the heads bobbing and lolling, struggling to stay afloat on the tedious quagmire of cryptic overhead-projected maps and droning lists of names and dates. i just stared at my lap and occasionally added to the list in my notebook of things i'd much rather be doing. that's kind of what i've been doing for most of the last few weeks; hanging on to the idea that if i can hold out for just a few more months, my days can be 100% mine and i won't have to worry about deadlines and discussion boards and all manner of nasty whatnot. yeh, well, i'm gonna go read a few pages in the lie-berry now.

peetq@hotmail.com

Why'd I 'ave to go and Do a Schewpid Fing Loik Dat?

2004-11-29T01:33:00.000-06:00

uuuuuhh gawd, i have no functioning concept of the facets involved in operating the way i'm used to operating right now. i was startled awake at about ten by a dying smoke alarm, and i swore for about a half hour that it was ten a.m. and couldn't understand why it was so dark outside. then i watched a documentary about "song poems". little ads on the back of tabloids or comics that say "send us the lyrics, and we'll make a song and send the recording to you". people have been sending in stuff for decades. they played a song called "chicken insurrection", and talked to a guy who tried to send in the most fucked up and offensive thing he could think of, and it still got recorded, a honkey tonk with the refrain "a blind man's penis is erect because he's blind". so now, startled, with belly churning, and "blind man's penis" melodiously floating through my head, i believe i shall shamble into the kitchen and stare at the moldy cracks in the ceiling until i figure out what the closer-to-normal me would be doing tonight, and then get going on that.

peetq@hotmail.com

Zuckerman's Famous Pig

2004-11-23T23:57:00.000-06:00

i have to say it actually felt palpably good to be alive walking that last half block back from the store. i've been waiting for the cold air to be just right, just enough to make the back of my hands a little numb and tingly. i was just a little more aware of my skin and concious of the idea that i was taking in air, and it felt justifiable and reassuring this time around, rather than that old sense of having to scramble for reasons to defend it. plus, i knew i had a giant, soft blanket and new music waiting at home.

peetq@hotmail.com

Mbuuuuuaaaahhhh...

2004-11-23T16:09:00.000-06:00

thats the sound of me not having to do a friggin history test anymore. took me five damn hours to write the essay part of the exam. now im going to crawl under my fluffy new comforter and sleep forever, or until the spiked boot of schule wedges back in the ol' arse sometime this weekend. yaaaaahhhhh... too tired to grunt out any more bull pocky right now.

small fisted
pork gristle
prickly thistle
train whistle
dull epistle
patriot missile

motion sickness
aiding and abetting
badgering the witness
chronic bed wetting

peetq@hotmail.com

The Hippie and the Lunatic

2004-11-17T15:45:00.000-06:00

since that last one was about as appetising as a cabbage sundae, i thought i'd harken back a little bit about an old roommate of mine, stinky ass ken. ken, you trey anastasio lookin' muthafucka, i wonder where you are right now. probably passed out with a mammoth cup of tapwater dumped drunkenly on your head, or putting your grimy fingers in some unsuspecting business major's hoagie. ken had black, fucked up hippie toes. he tried, but never quite managed, to mask the pot stench behind the rancid incense clouds eeking out of his room. on the weekends, if he made it home, he would wobble up to the house on his bike, dump it in the entryway, and then crawl up the stairs, usually stopping halfway up to chuckle and swear. when he made it all the way into the living room, he always had some story about toppling off his bike or falling asleep in someone's yard along the way. sometimes i'd see him struggling home at about 7 in the morning while i waited for the bus, a grim kind of resignation on his face. i think he was gone for about four days once, and no one seemed to know where he was, and then one night, out in the yard, we heard WHUMP! "ahe-he-he-heeeeee... shit!" and knew everything was a-o.k. ken was good people. at least he wasn't like our creepy housemate jeremy, who would sometimes leave a tv, radio, and alarm clock blaring while he "played" his bass in his corner of the moldy cellar. it sounded more like he was throwing things at it from across the room, and then suddenly "sanford and son" would pop out for ten seconds. he only left his room to come up to the kitchen and cook the same foul pasta-like thing every single day, the creepy bastard.

DOM! anything of note as far as you can remember that i'm leaving out?

peetq@hotmail.com

Jesuit Track & Field

2004-11-17T13:02:00.000-06:00

i've about had it with this swole up ass uvula i got dangling down the back of my throat like a damn fishing lure. what the hell is that thing for anyway? i think i should make a necklace or something out of it, give it a purpose.

well, after tripping over all the tenderness and flopping around on the ground for a while, i kind of neglected to stand up straight when righting myself, and dragged my face along the ground for a few days. i might be swerving back into lock step now, so no need to mail me any xanax yet. still got this sonsabitchin half-ass cold, though. myerp, myerp, myerp, myerp... ooh, ah, a hummus belch. things are lookin' up.

peetq@hotmail.com

Get Up a-Get Get, Get Down

2004-11-12T22:03:00.000-06:00

ppppffffffffhhhhhhhttttttthhhhhhh... first the swing pushin goes horribly awry when the final big push sends a kid careening hip first into the damn post of the swingset, then i come home and the kitchen door is kicked in. someone broke through the bottom pannel of the door, crawled in, and apparently just grabbed jordan dale's bike and ran out. nothing else was touched. it doesn't even look like they set foot in any other part of the house. i called the cops, who showed up an hour and a half later and basically just said "yep. bike's gone" (i know there isn't a whole extra bunch they can do, though, and it's really not the frustrating part) and i called someone at the rental company who sounded like she was too preoccupied with picking the butter out from between her toes to hear anything i said. someone's supposedly coming out here sometime in the near future to hammer a piece of plywood over the hole or something. right now there's a pillowcase tacked to the door to keep the cold out. yeah, so the tenderness does a big faceplant today, i guess.

peetq@hotmail.com–

Strawberry Fanta

2004-11-11T22:24:00.000-06:00

well dammit if this week ain't been about as tender as a runt over porterhouse, you fine people. flowers and kiddies and brunches and sentiment that would make a cadaver blush and say "shucks". i'm filled to the gills with cornball giddiness. sakes alive. i don't see the foppishness shriveling up anytime soon, either. more kiddies tomorrow, where word has gotten around about the big pushes handed out at the swingsets, then an entire weekend of revelry with friendships both storied and nascent.

the beard and i have parted ways for the time being. we just grew apart. it was a different beard from the one i met and fell in love with, and i'm a changing boy. the hardest part was having to watch it stare up at me from the sink like a dying chinchilla, and then gathering its broken body in my arms and leaving its fate to the whimsy of the wind. i wish it all the good fortune it deserves.

peetq@hotmail.com

No One, Not Even the Rain...

2004-11-10T22:45:00.000-06:00

oh, so very cold... anywho, i was walking home tonight and i perchanced to... haaaaaaayyyy, waitaminute... what's with the poncy crap about swingsets and giggles and shit? oh snap, did i have another one of my "episodes"? alright, i spent the morning with the kinders and then went to 14th grade and read some poems about sunflowers and tiny hands and junk and i just got a little tender, that's all, nothing to be too ashamed about. i'm still burly and manly and whatnot, got the beard and everything, open your pickle jar, stuff like that. can't a boy have his flights of fancy now and again? i think so. howbout to balance everything out i end the post with the word syphilis?

peetq@hotmail.com@

Goddamn the Pusherman

2004-11-10T15:41:00.000-06:00

today, for 15 minutes, the only thing that mattered was that if they got going high enough and fast enough, the swings would jolt and flop, and send the kids twisting and flailing and laughing.

peetq@hotmail.com

The Book of Lord Shang

2004-11-09T13:17:00.000-06:00

ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui... aaaaaannnd... ennui. there. now i should be number one. except now that i see that word so many times, in my head it sounds like a type of fabric or a shrimp-like animal. yyyeeeaahhh, so this is me trying to squeeze out more frequent posts. i have to go read about china's least popular philosophy soon. jealous? oh, to be pigtailed in a sun dress, somersaulting through the wheat fields all day, naming the clouds and inhaling the wet sod! look! there's a whiporwill eating sesame out of my pocket! a newt sleeping in the crook of my arm! to be barefoot and witless. oh, simply to be!

peetq@hotmail.com

Wrecka Stow

2004-11-07T22:35:00.000-06:00

every coupla months, when i haven't eaten a giant burrito at two in the morning, i have a rotating clump of beautiful, decrepit record stores i visit in my dreams. i always find some faded obscure album by the greatest band ever, who is only truly appreciated by myself and the gorgeous employees. last night it was "compass records" on the corner of fifth or sixth street and first avenue. but it's a modern first avenue that stopped evolving in about 1905. all the people are on foot, and the record store is next to candy stores, places that sell elixers and phosphates, and businesses that spell "shop" with two p's and an e. they always have the best selection of old local 45's, and cozy, dusty corners with hardwood floors. last night i was going to stop in at a bookstore or something around the corner, but i decided against it, because i was wandering around in nothing but a bath towel.

another store is called "peanut butter records" and it's on fiftysomething and nicollet-ish. 50th is a freshly tarred two lane highway about as wide as a bike trail that cuts through the middle of a vast, bright green field. the records are in long bins in the dark peanut butter basement, and they specialize in out of print records from the 60's. i think i got the wild man fischer double album there some night a few months ago.

then there's the one that is alternately record store, antique shop, or the ruined, filthy home of my friends jason and laura. this one is tucked away somewhere on a residential side street in northeast minneapolis, and i think it's either run by a bunch of indie kids or a spry old married couple that fight over things like who got to look at the variety section first that morning, or how the wife still tries to get the old coot to eat green beans even though he goddamn told her he don't like green beans every night now for 55 years. sometimes i don't even find this one, and just end up wandering around empty streets all night.

the one that tends to knock around in my head for the rest of the waking day is located at the bottom of a long, steep set of crumbling stone stairs, on the shore of a cold ocean in dinkytown. i think i'm only allowed to go into this one if i'm in love with or pursuing someone. the store is in a tiny, wedge shaped room, and it only sells ancient punk 45's. i usually grab a stack of records and then run out and go eat bread on the beach with the love interest.

other than the record store dreams, every other night i basically run down the street nude trying to jump through the ground, or drive around in broken cars with dead people.

peetq@hotmail.com

Jesus H., Crab Killa

2004-11-06T01:01:00.000-06:00

i'm gorged with root beer barrels and sweet tarts. apparently, this blogging crap is a demanding endeavor. i've got people scattered halfway across the country breathing down my neck for new inanities. the problem is that while my life is rediculously busy - which for a lazy bastard like myself could ammount to having to get up when the alarm tells me to rather than rolling around in bed for my usual 15 hour nap - it's not necessarily all that much worth commenting on. it's pretty repetitive and predictable right now, school, work, begging for cash, the nightly vat of cheese, nude body painting at the nursing home on wednesdays... nausiatingly mundane, really. until something wacky happens, i guess you'll just have to chew on this painting of jesus flashing a blood sign.

peetq@hotmail.com

I Hate Honkeys

2004-10-27T13:29:00.000-05:00

arright... three quick things, because i'm sweaty and i'm busy, and i don't have time for the lollygagging.

1. while tottering my way across downtown this afternoon, two suit and tie guys popped out of a revolving door and one said to the other "that's our market differential right there." and the other guy said "oh, that's a HUGE market differential." goddammit. if i ever catch one of the kindergarteners saying anything that remotely resembles the words "market differential" they're going to the end of the damn lunch line, and i don't care how hungry they are.

2. i was thinking last night that the music of the band mogwai should be pumped down to earth from giant speakers floating in space. either that, or the band puts some space suits on and floats in space while broadcasting their music to the world. people wouldn't be saying shit like friggin "market differential" if they were incapacitated by the rawk.

3. there's somebody playing in the world series right now whose last name is "poo-holes".

peetq@hotmail.com

Disco Shitstorm

2004-10-19T13:52:00.000-05:00

i have no idea what the hell i just ate. sour somethingorother. it was purple and brown and kind of tangy, with a side of beige pellets speckled with something green, and then maybe a bread roll and some lung tissue? i didn't eat the lungs. they looked too moist or something.

finally get to go frighten a room full of chilluns tomorrow. maybe i should shuck the mountain man motif before i wander in off the street oblivious to the shredded wheat and orange juice hanging from my face.

must do sundry bullshit while dreaming about my chewed up blankie and stinky butt bed.

peetq@hotmail.com

I Got Mean Things, I Got Mean Things on my Mind

2004-10-18T04:38:00.000-05:00

alright, you bucktoothed son of a bitch, it was endearing when you looked like you were perusing the "Ruski Classics" section of the bookshelf, but stealing my socks is the last fucking straw. you've got a lackey now, too? so you can swallow my clothes while junior roots through the pantry? you stinking bag of rabies!

my brain is hissing at me, i'm clenching my fists, rolling back and forth, and listening to songs about guns and devil dogs. we put some chili powder out. why, i can't seem to remeber anymore, but i think he used it to top off my friggin tubesock, the shithead. yeah, and i put down some clorox! that's right goddammit! clorox! fuck 'im! i reserve my compassion for those people and animals that don't consume my unmentionables. i hope you go out like Robert Johnson, howling and frothing, you clod.

peetq@hotmail.com

Ja, Vi Elsker Dette Landet

2004-10-14T23:24:00.000-05:00

just got done dancing like a damn lunatic all over my cramped little room, booting juicy juice bottles against the foot infection poster and stumbling over the oscilating fan. i dance the dance that i dance because of a frabulous abbim i got in the mail all the way from trondheim by a lovely man called kaada. he somehow manages to mix up cheezy lounge, gypsy folk, polka, and sample based trip hoppy stuff, and adds english lyrics in a scandahoovian accent about trying to deal with the world and stoicly pretending that any of us have a clue about anything. i goddamn love it. i dont even mind that the goddamn neighbors upstairs are making the goddamn ceiling vibrate directly over my goddamn room and somehow nowhere else in the house, or that jordan d. burns sounds like he's raking his face across a broken guitar while strangling himself with a frayed extension cord which he's plugged into a wet socket. it's a fine collection is what i'm getting at. i think i should go listen to it one mo 'gin.

peetq@hotmail.com

Enzyme Modified Cheese

2004-10-08T03:45:00.000-05:00

just me and a can of beefaroni tonight. the hell time is it? four? i think its another "goin to bed with mossy teeth cause goddammit the bathrooms all the way on the other end of the house" kinda night. zack's got his bedroom doorway stuffed with socks cause someone told him a story about a mouse coming into someones room at night and gnawing their wrist open, and now he thinks hes going to perish at the jagged maw of peaceful portly ephram. i guess i'll go play some "sabbath bloody sabbath" on my glittery purple ukelele and fall asleep with my clothes on.

eenf orf.. hokay, i just wanted to mention beefaroni, really.

peetq@hotmail.com

Little Big Man

2004-10-06T01:14:00.000-05:00

we have a new fat-ass roommate named ephram. he moved in about a week ago, and lately he's gotten alot more comfortable around us. he comes out from behind the sink every night, eats our pizza crusts and flecks of skin, and then waddles around the living room, casually glancing at the bookshelf like he's trying to decide between "the master and margarita" or "japanese for busy people". ephram is so god damn fat that even if he is feeling a little skittish, he can't get his rubbery little legs going under his belly fast enough to work up a decent head of steam, and he just sort of skitters around corners when it seems like we might be losing interest in him.

i don't think anyone here is intent on harming ephram. o'draws claims he's going to fashion a shiv out of a broomhandle or somesuch, but the first time he met ephram, he did a swan dive into the la-z-boy, so i'm chalking that one up to testosterone. no, i guess as long as ephram's happy, i'm happy. hell, he's probably tidier than the three of us. until he starts gnawing the crotches out of my pants and leaving neat turd pyramids in the doorway, he's welcome to stay.

peetq@hotmail.com

Snoose and Moose Discuss Saplings

2004-09-29T23:22:00.000-05:00

I think I'm in love with the automated teller machine woman. She sounds like Mary Poppins, and the way she says "please wait while your transaction is processing" - trying to stay composed while the chambers of her heart erode, as if everyone always left her right when the transaction was about to process - makes my bowels unravel. That money slides out at the end of it makes me feel a little filthy and loathsome, but yes I will wait, Robot Mary Poppins, I will wait forever.

peetq@hotmail.com

Lackluster Filibuster

2004-09-27T20:54:00.000-05:00

wandered around dinkytown with my thumb jammed up my ass in the hope that if i jammed it up there far enough, i might tweak some neurons and have a few thoughts beyond "henf... is that me that smells like that? gee, it's long sleeve weather...". et a football sized burrito, tossed a quarter in a rusty galaga game in the empty laundromat and moped home with a giant pink jug of gatorade. yeh. now i'm sniffing my lip hairs and digesting dinner. maybe theres too much blood in my belly. feeling particularly vacuous.

how dare school threaten my laziness! i wanna swat fruit flies in my striped mumu all day! swig maple syrup from the bottle and hunt for railroad spikes in the alley! practice my gleeking! read ramona the brave and get nutter butter crumbs between the pages... foo and poo and waah...

i wonder what will happen if i drink this entire thing of gatorade...

peetq@hotmail.comi

Morse Code. Morose Doting Goiter Load.

2004-09-18T21:24:00.000-05:00

yagyag yagyag yagyag yaygayg yagyayg aygayg yag... i've had too much caffeine... i'm elastic and shredded like a chewed up shoe. like a toothless, swollen old dog sucked on my head all night long. i feel like a fish. like a hairy, exasperated fish. i managed to crap out another little moldy turd of a book entry through the hot acrid helmet imposed on me by the enormous triple-turtle-ugmo-hugabug-flim-flam-choco-mocha thing i inhaled. i brought along, for bolstering, the uplifting and encouraging words of Fernando Pessoa. passages like "i cultivate hatred of action like a greenhouse flower. i dissent from life and am proud of it." really encouraged me and made me feel like i could accomplish anything if i just bore down and dug deep within. now i have to make wee wee. i think some greezy pizza and secondhand smoke might be the cure.

peetq@hotmail.com

Orda RUPP!

2004-09-12T23:47:00.000-05:00

had the brilliant idea to start a big, time consuming personal project right when i'll have the least ammount of time to devote to it. it's coming along pretty decently so far, i think. don't anybody tell dom about it though, it's a big secret special delivery care package. arright, i need something to blather about, and i'm kinda ess-sited about it... i'm making a book. i went out on thursday night and took (not quite) random photos on a walk from my house to the quarry, a strip mall conglomeration sort of thing about two miles away. i walked trough warehouse lots and a cemetary taking pics of rusty stuff and buildings and signs. then i got them developed at the quarry and put them in a preliminary sequence and started comprising a story in little sections that will fit on the back of each picture. i think im going to bind it with two little ring binder things, and make a cover out of an overhead transparency or something like that. hopefully i can make a few copies when its all assembled. it might take a couple months. there are 28 pictures, and ive got seven sections written up through at least a rough stage. leave it to me to get my literary ambitions up to speed a couple years after ive devoted most of my time and brain juices to other pursuits. kind of a smelly post, but eh... im tarrd and ive been reading an uneccesarily dense textbook all night, so my brains is all stringy and abstraction is a little out of reach tonight.

peetq@hotmail.com

Cute New Purses for Fall

2004-09-07T01:37:00.000-05:00

school's locked me up in some kind of absurd cabin fever. im up every night doing nervous, repetitive fidgety stuff like changing clothes for no reason and re arranging my room, digging through old letters and pictures. having abstract and nervous dreams like the one last night where cat fetuses were tumbling out of the lining of my pants into a large, squirming soft grey mound on the floor. i dont think ive ever seen the "cat fetus" section in any dream interpretation books, but it had the same surreal anxiety as most of the waking moments of the last few weeks.

goddammit, well, yeah... egghh. everything's sort of ground down to blathering blankness here, so maybe some fucked up tapwater can act as a narcotic and i'll get some sleep.

peetq@hotmail.comí

I Had a Dream that Mary-Ellen Dated the Singer from Fine Young Cannibals

2004-08-27T20:11:00.000-05:00

i'm not doin my homework and you can't make me! ok, i'll do it after one of my colossal 14 hour naps, maybe. i think i'm just going to try to spell stuff with this semester's transcript - 80's boy band names like "FABB" or "BADD" - and turn in assignments written in fat tip washable pastel marker with funyon grease gluing the pages together. i haven't even gotten to the preface yet, and i'm already tossing the books across my room and whining into my drool caked pillow. if i get through the introduction to my world history book by midnight, i've promised myself a frozen charleston chew, so that should get me gnawing on the end of my pen and reading stories about bone fragments in the desert in no time. i'm going to go lick the varnish off the doorway now.

peetq@hotmail.com

I, Nightranger

2004-08-19T00:31:00.000-05:00

i of the taco platter and frosty hopps, i of the smoke ridden neighborhood dive, i of the spinning, light emiting diode wheel, i of the highlighted barry white lyric.

"surfer girl" as sung by an anemic mouse will be sending out signals in undulating waves as i try to roll away from the cigarette stench in my torpid dreams. oigh... we scandanavians are supposed to be of sturdier stock. grizzled fishermen. vicious vikings. sheep fuckers. the scandanavian idea of heaven is that you get to fight and die a gory, dismembered death over and over again for eternity. three beers down my windpipe, and god forbid anyone try to wedge me out of my bedroom door, lest they be set upon by a massive gorgonzola fart that has actual physical heft and presence.

the thought of maybe seeing 2/3rds of a bosom on friday has got me thinking about how long it might take me to barricade myself into my closet. i'm sqeamish. so be it. i prefer the black and white world of the kindergarten class, where social games venture no further than simon says, and if your breath smells like a pig's dick, you'll hear about it.

ug. i can't take it no more. never let yourself get too relaxed when there's no toilet paper in the house.

peetq@hotmail.com(

Poofters Froth

2004-08-17T01:50:00.000-05:00

what?! it's just a tiny outbreak of scabies, out on the tip of my pinky! not even an outbreak, really, i'd call it more of an 'isolated occurrence' if you really have to address it at all, which you don't. i've allready lanced each little pustule and let the oily liquid drain into the sink, then i soaked it in warm salty water for like a half hour. you don't even half to think about it. yes, some of the juice got in your food, but who can really say what's in your food anymore these days what with all the pesticides and biotech stuff. don't worry, i'll just ask the waiter for a wet nap and a band-aid. hey! stop screaming! please? hey, come back!

peetq@hotmail.comm

Rise to the Occasion with Rice

2004-08-15T20:26:00.001-05:00

it is with diminished vigor that i report to you on this grey night. all vitality and youthful verve has drained into my feet, making them feel like sacks of chewed beef. a formless mass of lukewarm microwaved "food" is what passes for solace tonight.

punch in, punch out, punch in, punch out, the sound of the time card clicking into place echoing through grey matter... the drone of the universe and the dissonance of the city vying for dominance in the gassy pockets of my head... my eyelids sweat and neck muscles crackle. i hunch over and gnaw on a fingernail.

still prone to feral compulsion, to discard my stiff, stinking garments and lay prostrate among the ants and silverfish and box elders, beneath a thin current of wind, seems the only means by which i could ever hope to re-connect with the cyclical machinations of something approaching the eternal.

i know i'll find it. i'll fold my bones, close my eyes, and see the outline of a smile, faintly glowing behind the swirling nimbus of sleep.

peetq@hotmail.com¶

Pseudomonas Aeruginosa

2004-08-07T15:19:00.000-05:00

maybe it was some milk with an extra dose of bovine growth hormone. i'm craving meat at odd hours of the night and eating everything double fisted. i've noticed some hairs, thick and brittle like insect legs, poking out of my face where before only fair hairs sprouted. my literary/musical tastes have been leaning further and further toward the lunkheaded and bawdy. i half expect to wake up with a surplus cluster of testes clinging to a forearm. pretty soon, i'll start marking my room with my scent and be able to see in the dark. i'll shred all my clothes and make a nest of the tatters in a corner of the basement, scratching crude representations of my family and indigenous wildlife on the walls. you'll have to feed me by shoving a tray of rancid dogmeat toward me from a safe distance with a broomhandle like they do to sloth in goonies. then you'll wake up one morning to come down and throw fruit at me, and the basement window will be shattered. it will smell like amonia. there will be a few bloody clumps of hair sticking to the window frame next to a mangled rabbit carcass, and i'll be gone.

peetq@hotmail.com

That's My Dago

2004-07-31T22:27:00.000-05:00

well, it's all over now. no more dago love by the glow of the moon for me, at least for a while. dom's probably in san francisco by now, in his little den of a room, his humid wop musk drifting out the window and mingling with the fog of the frisco night, making all the fellas convulse and crawl toward his door against their flimsy wills. i guess i could try filling the gaping chasm in my guts by smoking crushed aspirin like i did as an infant. oh, but it just won't sassy-fy like a robust romp through hill and dale with my lttle guinnea furball... it's raining now. strange how it seems to have started the instant his plane screeched along the tarmac half a continent away. cars coldly whisk by with soft sibillant breaths, like secrets proffered by the grinding gears of the clock at the center of the earth, and each one seems to whisper "dom........ dom........ dommmm....." what good will crying do? i could bathe in a barrel of my tears and never feel as renewed as i did whenever i felt his rough hewn cook's hands glide along my girthsome shank. i can only hope to maintain through the winter as well as my shrivled heart can muster, until we can gallop into the frothing ocean, hand in hand, and resurect the cathedral of tenderness that time and distance have conspired to demolish. dom, whenever something you can't quite identify pulls you to wander along the wharf in solitude, and you hear the crestfallen call of the sea lion, know that somewhere behind his sullen eyes i am watching, and i am with you.

peetq@hotmail.com

Keegs and Some Other Nice People

2004-07-26T18:01:00.000-05:00

so few words to great effect
imprecise but not indirect
where the lines of sight intersect
the shifting light too slight to detect
with misconceptions, there is no need to correct
because by building it, you make it perfect

peetq@hotmail.comÏ

I Swear to God the Nazis Put a Radio in my Teeth

2004-07-24T04:26:00.000-05:00

you should smell my kitchen right now. it smells like the michelin man ignited a fart and used the flameball to boil leather in a wok full of goat urine. yeah. probably time to do the dishes. or at least scrape the moss off of them and try to use it as some kind of joint compound for sealing up the stinking crack in otha's ass. or maybe i'll smoke the big rancid moss ball and decorate my room with whatever my neighbors have left by the recycling bin this week. most recently it was a shredded, sooty three wheeled stroller and jagged pieces of plastic.

man... i must've eaten too much toothpaste or something, i'm starting to feel like one of those street corner hucksters who dress up like giant hot dogs to pimp for some new greasy spoon with sandwiches named after dead comedians. i think what i might do is suck on some dandruff until i black out, and see if i'm still in the hot dog suit when i regain conciousness. then i can more effectively discern how to tackle the problem in yon kitchen. maybe i can rope it off and give it a title like "lucid machine of lugubriousness in microcosm, stage one" to justify it sitting there and festering, and if anyone asks why the paint on the wall behind the sink is sweating and bubbling and turning black, i'll say something like "why dont you ask the fucking whores at 1600 pennsylvania avenue, man!?" then shit on the floor and sculpt it into an easter bunny.

peetq@hotmail.com?

Sofa King Super All-Stars

2004-07-15T15:32:00.000-05:00

dodgeball you bastards! i joined a co-ed dodgeball league yesterday on a whim. our team is called the sofa king super allstars. say it fast a few times. we played some team of eight foot tall samurais with tattoos of severed heads on their arms, one for every victim. they palmed those giant, old school rubber dodgeballs and bounced them off our heads like we were ducks in a damn carnival shooting gallery. we scrambled around on the floor like shrews and granny tossed the balls back like we were trying to play a nice civil game of catch. the sofa kings then nursed their goospimpled welts with nachos and alcohol at a local speakeasy and talked strategy. more dodging and better use of the ball was the consensus.

we lost, yes, but oh! the envigorating, reverberating pang of the big rubber ball hitting fleshy thigh! the echoing grunts and howls of ardor! the somehow metallic scent of misty perspiration...

we may well lose again next week, and the week after that, but maybe we can manage to look fucking cute doing it in our matching cosmopolitan pseudo athlete on the go motif, which should be forthcoming from the sofa king design team. and really, the glory here is not to be found in winning or losing, but in how many icepacks you see the opposing team applying to their genitals.

peetq@hotmail.com

Maybe Your Butt Stinks Like Burning Tires

2004-07-13T02:20:00.000-05:00

updating from the abbacus in the living room again. it's been a pretty productive day for having no real obligations... well, i did write an essay for composition, but it didn't take all of the seven hours i spent in dinkytown, wandering down alleys and sweating all over myself.

sparkling news, ladies and gennlemens! we are getting new upstairs neighbors come sep. the first! what with all the griping we did, the rental company decided they werent going to renew their lease. all i know so far is that it will be three college age women. one of them came to look at the place a few weeks ago and signed a lease. jordan d. burns, when pressed for info as to possible disposition or speculation on the general lifestyle of our neighbor to be, said "i dunno, she was wearing a sweater, and then i got scared and ran to my room". so there you have it! a sweater wearer and her friends move into the place upstairs.

i bet i can post more often if i dig deep and strive for my best acheivement. birfins day coming up. my parents promise me the sweet stench of hot horse poop and lopsided green billed wicker hats on purple haired, purple veined gambling addicts with a trip to the racetrack on sunday. horse racing always reminds me of a charles bukowski poem about enduring a violent beershit out at some horse track, and then accidentally dropping his wallet in the toilet and placing a bet with the wet, stinking money. an inspiring associatin to carry with me on a familial social outing.

shit, it's late in the night times. tomorrow i will plunk my face into a chocolate cake and have some lemon merengue with a heapin side o' love.

peetq@hotmail.com¯

They Confronted Me with a Pile

2004-07-05T22:05:00.001-05:00

wowee...

some very eventful and fulfilling weeks lately. i've been hesitant to post, because i'm afraid it would just turn into a lame, mundane listing of the itinerary for the weekends. but dangit, they were good times. i love the days when i relax or sleep because it's the only time i can before there's something else i have to do. friday, i woke up at 8:30am and didn't get home until 4:30am the next day. i shoveled pizza into my head, and then saw a goddamn great movie by name a napoleon dynamite. the boom mike dipped into the frame in almost every scene, but insanely gorgeous nonsense transcends imperfection. rode some big rumbly rollercoasters and further enabled my cheese thing, the rollercoasters jamming my stomach into my throat wasnt nearly as bad as safety bar after safety bar to the crotch. i failed in three attempts at winning my sweet farmin' faux paramour boy love cody bruce a slinky neon fuzzball caterpillar at the break a plate booth, but insanely gorgeous fake boylove from one farmer to another also transcends imperfection. afterparty in the serpentine suburban streets. i laid on a giant trampoline and let the intermitant cool breezes graze my hot face. the next day, i tooled around town in big brown bonnie's temporary and wholly inadequate replacement, corky, kicked it in a hunting lodge style basement complete with beer lamps, and then once again ventured out to watch soused bar people pass by in blurs of hairgell and spray on tans. then it was back to the lodge for naptime, a brekfast of stale kix and soy milk, a giant plodding parade, a gory water balloon fight with casualties by the score, paper plates, sody pops, sand boxes, smoke bombs, bug spray, sun block, and a fireworks display that took a big soft-serve shit all over columbia heights' white trash ass. today was a perfect day to not exist for a while. lope around doing menial necesities and gear up for a new week. i noticed earlier that the back porch is much cooler and more scenic than the muggy buggy house, so despite the shards of glass, and various other shrapnel from the neighbors, i'm going to go out there, prop myself against the railing and stare at the rainy street for awhile.

peetq@hotmail.com

Brass Tacks

2004-06-27T13:57:00.000-05:00

i'm in a red tonail mood, goddammit, and i don't care who knows!

apparently, i like to do my homework at about the exact moment when i have half the time i'll need in order to get it done. fooey on homework, cause i'm goin to my dago pal dom's cabin tonight. we're going to enjoy watersports, starry nights, and singeing our eyelashes off by the fire. i might get roped into having a fish intestine fight. blurf. i've engaged in so much bull shittery over the weekend in trying to get a stupid damn essay done that i'm having trouble mustering up the gumption for a decent entry here. anyway, you get the point, fun times had by all in the languor of a midsummer night's eve. the sour fungal smell of a semi secluded cabin, sunlight filtering through the trees, the plaintive warble of a lonely loon, and the whispering, soporific rustle of dom's chesthair against my cheek.

had a robust and eventful evening last night in the company of some frenetic, gnat-like children, the progeny of my boy sarahs frend, whatserface. autumn, that's it. we went to columbia heights' version of a summer carnival and watched fireworks explode ten feet in front of our faces. fireworks are so much more thrilling with the looming threat of third degree burns. after the splosions, i succumbed to my humiliating cheese problem and ate some cheese curds until i could barely walk upright. some booth at the carnival was selling fucking inflatable machine guns, and i saw a kid walk by with a poofy rubber mace. then i remembered we were in columbia heights. i've never seen so many drunk 15 year olds in one place before, except for maybe my highschool. after the debilitating cheese, the rubber artillery, and the besotted adolescent malcontents, sarah and i retired to old chicago for the evening. sarah even let me drive big brown bonnie home all by myself. the one on one time with big brown bonnie was an especially tender way to top off the night.

now i'm here, not doin my homework.

ooohh, oh oh oh... almost forgot... i added a link to yet another farm chronicle, this one belonging to the inimitable poop sizzle.

peetq@hotmail.com

Urine Tire Lifestyle

2004-06-21T19:56:00.000-05:00

a second computer is finally set up out here in the living room. all the software on it is a few years old, though, so it's questionable whether any of this will even work.

hem, haw... woke up at about nine this morning when someone upstairs was yelling "get the fuck back in the house!!" or something to that effect, and then i heard some walkie talkie static in the little space between our house and the neighbor's. i peeked out through the blinds and saw an old, fat, surly looking state trooper guy staring up at the second floor windows. he stood there chewing his lip and occasionally spitting for about twenty minutes, and then walked down to the corner of the house, got settled into place with his arms crossed over his chest, reared back and spit all over the yard again, and stared up at some more windows for ten or fifteen minutes before he disappeared around the corner of the house. i went back to sleep for a long damn time and had short little vingette dreams wherein everyone hated me and then somehow dissapeared. in another dream, i stood behind a big iron fence and watched cars and busses drop over a waterfall into a giant concrete ravine.

woke up, miss sarah was here, spread my stink around a little, daniel showed up and set the computers up to be networked, they left, i left, ate a burrito in dinkytown, bought some rolling stones which i will not apologise for, wandered through clouds of dirt and sticky puddles of blackberry juice back to the crib, and here i sit, stinkin up the place and staring at the corner like a dunce.

next up for me is some reveling in the pomp and cheese of the stones, and more homework i don't feel like doing. and more stink.

peetq@hotmail.com

Conjunctivitis, Conjunctivitis

2004-06-16T21:40:00.000-05:00

not enough calcium but too much dairy. too much sleep, not enough sleep. too much crappy schoolwork. a soup party, a reg'ler shindig, my dog ate it. my arm hurts. my beard got in the way. brilliant and valid excuses, all. really, i can't come up with anything that seems interesting enough for anyone to spend much time reading. some somber days and some anxious days, some blank days and a few lazy ones. i miss the kids, i guess i think about that alot. dunno...

well, i've got a few links to add, and maybe while i'm doing that, a spaceship will crash through the ceiling, jesus will walk out with william burroughs, and we'll all strip down to our undies and take a dip in the giant inflated pool in my back yard. jesus'll make some fart bubbles and blame it on bill, and bill will hit jesus in the face with one of the random diapers left back there. then i'll break out the conflict resolution techniques, and ask william and jesus to use their words and describe their feelings to one another. a group hug and some salacious and suggestive waterplay will follow.

one new link, the n8 one, is from yet another current farmer. the other new link is a pretty interesting account of a trip around europe currently being embarked upon by a former co-worker of my mom's.

peetq@hotmail.com

Cat Wearing Devil Mask

2004-06-09T12:12:00.000-05:00

got my jammies on backwards like kriss-kross, goobers in my eyeballs, drooping spires of greasy hair hanging in my face, but i slept until NOON. NOOOOON! i slept all damn night long and woke up with drool smeared across my unabomber beard. now i'm ready for some sprucing up and some soup party.

the last day of kindergarten went pretty well, i spoze. way too fast. the room was crammed full of everybodys parents and aunts and uncles and little sisters. we sang some songs about rainbows, had a graduation ceremony, ate some cookies, and then the parents grabbed the kids and ran out of there like they were trying to get away from godzilla. there were a few sad kids whose parents hadn't come to the graduation shambling around the room and half-heartedly chipping in on the cleanup, then they had to go to their buses and that was it.

time either moves way too fast or way too slow, and never in the right spots. i'm burly, though, so i can get through on my stainless steel will to perservere, like a brawny lumberjack. i'll visit next year and hopefully get to regularly volunteer in a few of the kindergarten and first grade classes.

well, i'm gonna go hose myself off and crawl out of the house toward breakfast now.

peetq@hotmail.com

Tatterdemalion

2004-06-03T17:47:00.000-05:00

sheeeezis, this week is wrenching my bones apart like a thresher. i started summer session at the mctc on tuesday, plus i've got the kindergarteners and the farmjob. i've had 3 16-18 hour work days in a row here. Intermittently bouncing into misty pockets of malfunctioning mental and/or physical faculties. kind of like right now. my composition instructor is a chalk flinging manic depressive tweak, a cross between a heavily medicated alan alda and woody allen with some more benign complexes. i'm fresh out of time yet again. i'll add whatever hackneyed dook i had in mind sometime this weekend. i have also added the quadeblog to the links for your perusing.

peetq@hotmail.com

I Control the Itching Without Drowsiness

2004-05-31T18:58:00.000-05:00

oh my snap!! a current and former farmer dip they toes in the blogging cesspool! jacob donald's is linked now, and as soon as the quade's blog stops making the computer freeze and actually load, i can link that one too. right now, even though i stink like salmon and my teeth are hairy, i'm getting out of the house so i don't start moping and grousing about some poop and junk.

peetq@hotmail.com

Ari

2004-05-27T23:41:00.000-05:00

i wanted to post something about this amazing kid who totally reaffirms and strengthens my reasons behind wanting to do what i'm doing with my life. i'm not sure how this started, but a few days ago some of the kids were talking in a corner during free time, and one of them, a girl named Ari, started crying. i asked her why, and she said it was because someone told her that sometimes homeless people have to resort to finding food in the garbage. i had heard her say things a few times about how all people can get along no matter what you look like and things like that,and i never doubted that she believed what she was saying, but i always figured it was stuff she'd heard and repeated. but this level of natural ingrained compassion couldn't be drummed in by rote or recitation, this was really coming from an honest gut reaction. it just made me recall that a major intent for me is to try and make sure a huge heart like that is reinforced and given alot of value before it gets shit on by a fucked up culture that tries to wedge you into some dismal career path and only cares what you're going to do with your next paycheck. tomorrow is ari's last day, because she's moving out of the district, and i've been thinking alot lately about her and what we talked about.

peetq@hotmail.com

I Been Plowed Down by the Poop-Poop Door

2004-05-27T21:44:00.000-05:00

i made a poop because of this friggin gorgeous new album i got in the mail today. the band is called "the instruments" and the album is "billions of phonographs". they are connected to the elephant 6 collective, which includes neutral milk hotel, olivia tremor control, apples in stereo, elf power, major organ, circulatory system, the gerbils, etc, etc... it's all sad, dreamy, night driving type songs with odd arrangements and sounds. they play things like cello, bassoon, theremin, accordion, singing saw, and mellophone. even the syrupy calypso song is good. it just made me turd is all i'm saying.

peetq@hotmail.com

Tom Arnold is the Most Talented Man in the Universe

2004-05-25T23:37:00.000-05:00

while taking the kids to their art class today, i noticed a long, narrow hallway i'd never seen before in a corner of the basement. the idea of whatever might be down that hallway chewed on my head until i had time to explore during my lunch break. i walked in and saw cryptically labeled boxes stacked against the walls, and a huge dark storage area with some kind of cloud mural against the far wall. there was a small office with a few people in it whom i'd never seen before, and people in green aprons carying crates around. it was like some secret society living in the catacombs of the building, plotting something sinister. i kept walking into rooms inside rooms. there was a woodshop type area with sanders and bandsaws, etc, rickety iron staircases, and then at the end, a giant, ancient batman villain boiler room with huge dusty dials and meters hanging off of archaic ducts and whirring monstrous machine bellies. i kept either hearing or conjuring footsteps, so i lost my nerve and walked back to the teacher's lounge. i've been in that school for a year now, and i had no idea that this whole other place existed right under me the whole time. i'm going back tomorrow, dammit, and this time i'm not getting scared off by freddie krueger or the ghost of some janitor crushed by an out of control floor buffer.

also, while waiting for a bus home from movie night tonight, i actually saw bats in the belfry of the basillica. but not just a few, at least ten bats were swooping and careening around the bell tower in wide constellations, casting creepy shadows on the walls of the church. it's been an odd, ominous day. now i have to go dream about undead janitors and clouds of bats.

peetq@hotmail.com

Arena Football

2004-05-23T15:07:00.000-05:00

hullo. meandering through the house doing mundane domestic crap. laundry, dishes, cleaning. no five year olds around to dump effusive affections on. ho hum. i think the rain may have finally let up. that means i can go get a sammich and take a bus uptown to see that movie. doodleee-doo, wee-waah... two weeks of elementary school left. i don't want it to end. getting up at quarter to six in the morning has never been so bearable.

time to try to get the hell out of the house.

peetq@hotmail.com

Technotronic

2004-05-22T01:34:00.000-05:00

aaawwwkayy... the week in review, since i haven't been by here in awhile. monday night, i saw the raging monoliths and purveyors of all things hard-ass-core, clutch, at first ave. more jittery and bizzarre mannerisms by the singer, neil, and enormous lumps of fownk from the band as a whole.

probably partly due to te concert, and mostly because of this asshole cold i've had for over a week now, i had to call in sick to both places of work (the school and the farm) and stay in friggin bed all day tuesday downing pills and hocking up balls of loog, glistening like emerald agates, all over my bedroom.

today i went to a carnival at the elementary school, just wandered around looking for people from my classroom and meeting their families. three year old kids waddling around with disintegrating tufts of cotton candy in their hands, a cake walk room, face paint, hot dogs, all manner of whatnot. i also squeezed in a couple of naps, choked down some generic robitussin, and sat around old chicago watching tore up timberwolves fans buy pizza from danielona.

right now it's lo mein and yo-j time, then tomorrow my friend dylan gets hitched, and mebbe i can go see the movie "the saddest music in the world" at the lagoon. a legless beer baroness, played by isabella rosalini, searches the world for the saddest song. her father makes her some new glass legs filled with beer. it's shot in old film noir style, in black and white with vaseline around the edge of the camera lens.

peetq@hotmail.com

Free to Be You and Me

2004-05-16T23:42:00.002-05:00

i'm all doped up, dammit! it's a frenzied snotrag evening! i want to make a deathmetal/gangsta rap mix tape! cannibal corpse followed by too $hort followed by deicide followed by ghetto boys followed by pungent stench!! i have to! there's only so much tea and losenges i can swallow before all i hear is a floating chorus of cookie monster vocals and drum machines! all we are is skin and fluids and electricity and vapors!

peetq@hotmail.com

Pocket Squah

2004-05-15T16:55:00.000-05:00

last nite, went to some drive in theater practically in wisconsin with the ebulient and gregarious sarah. i know she was trying to abduct me and keep me hidden somewhere in stillwater or madison, but i thwarted that shit. something about "look at that 'hot weather balloon' over there" conveniently placed near the freeway exit to the theater, distracting me so i wouldnt realize we missed our turnoff, so we had to go five miles down the road and five miles back to get to the place. she stocked up on a cooler full of things i was physically incapable of swallowing. still, the effort was not lost on my addled brain. we enjoyed some cheeseburgers, drank some yo-j, stuck our tongues out and made faces at some young'uns in the car next to us, and then gave them some of the yo-j bottles. i was eating ice cubes and ice cream trying to keep from wincing everytime i swallowed. i documented the night in a photo booth which was inside the concessions building. we saw van helsing, which was cheeseball but good, and then "walking tall" a movie about the rock hitting things with a 2 x 4, which was godawful, but enjoyable in the context of the evening. i'm not sure how coherent this is, because i've been pumping myself full of tea and throat losenges and chloraseptic for two days, and i feel a little like a swollen bullfrog. my actions and concious processing of the actions seem about a half second off. yeah, i'm going back to bed.

peetq@hotmail.com

Schmoop

2004-05-13T00:34:00.000-05:00

well it was inevitable, i guess. tread water long enough in the river of phlegm that is a room full of five year olds and you're bound to end up with some kind of screwed up congestive problem. you could freebase vitamin c all day long and not evade it. now i feel like i've got a cue ball in my throat, and my head is made of papier mache. and of course i'm up in the middle of the damn night again, gaw demmit. i need something worthwhile and interesting to fill the time between kindergarten and a reasonal bedtime. dig dug aint cutting it no more, and reading knocks me out in half an hour. maybe an ambling afternoon constitutional. arright, staring at the computer is just making my condition worse. if someone were babbling like this on the street, you'd start running.

peetq@hotmail.com

Two Plush Wool Aeroplanes Melted Together at the Wing

2004-05-12T15:33:00.000-05:00

had a luch for volunteers at lincoln today, and i met a badass 97 year old woman everyone calls grandma vera. she comes to a first grade class every week and tells stories and gives everybody hugs and the like. she told us about teaching and travelling, and her upcoming 75th college reunion. then she talked shit about george bush, and my heart melted. grandma vera is the shit. she's more active and energetic than most 40 year olds. old folks know what time it is. almost sort of a reversion to a childlike honesty or lack of inhibitions and self restraint, except coming from a "well i'll be dead soon anyway" mindset rather than curiosity or naivete.

well i'm in the computer lab again. i had to come back to the mctc one last time before summer session for a meeting and mundane miscelania, and i really want to get the hell out of here now.

peetq@hotmail.com

Shoe Museum

2004-05-11T00:34:00.000-05:00

i sleep alot. woke up feeling disjointed and stumbled out of my stinky room into a quiet, dark, empty house. i think i want a sammich. where is everybody? i do this all the damn time. fall asleep in the middle of the day, then wake up at eleven, and i can't get back to sleep until 2 a.m., an' then i'm falling asleep all day long. sunnova bastard.

guess who gets to go on a field trip to a petting zoo on friday? i'm gonna pet a moocow, and feed a goat, and talk to the aminils and walk with the aminils and smell the aminils and say stuff like "no anthony, that's not for eating".

been thinking a little on how i look forward to some routines, and how things like the weekly kickball games a couple years ago provided a stability for a short while that i couldn't scrape together for myself at the time. i remember in high school kind of associating routines with conformity or complacency or being broken, but i'm growed up now, and not everything is a threat to my sanctity or purity or humanity or something like that. i'm looking forward to movie night is all i'm sayin'.

not exactly verbose this evenin'. i'm really just updating so i can add a link to a new blog by keegan. at least i'm pretty sure that's keegan, a frequent movie night patron and schoolmate of danielona and sarah's. i'm going to go roll around in my bed until 3 am now.

peetq@hotmail.com

Eleven Beleven

2004-05-09T11:38:00.000-05:00

well. i dunno where i've been all week. the semester's basically over so i haven't really been busy. movie night, lolling around, working, frolfin', playing dig-dug so much that when i close my eyes i see a little man digging holes and blowing up dragons.

whenever i think of school being out, i think of my third grade play. it was called "it's a super duper year" or something like that. it was a musical with a different song for every month. i was in september. it was a song about the school bus being late, and how that was ok, because riding a schoolbus was so much fun. some of the highschool peeps might remember eric streed. he was in january and november. he told the teacher he could breakdance and rap, so he got to do the brand new year rap for january. anybody know where the hell eric streed is these days? we took the show on the road, did the nursing home circuit. i remember being so exited to learn the sign language for "wrestling" from a woman at one of the nursing homes.

my elementary school was a little strange. there were no walls between classrooms, just giant rolling feltboard dividers. there was a giant fountain in the middle somewhere. each class had their own mini lunchroom. there were little secret cylinrical rooms off to the side of every class. i got locked in one of them until i could tie my shoes, or at least thats how the memory has formed in my head. there was some math specialist that came around to everyones class who was shorter than all the second graders. i had a substitute in second grade that i still remember. her name was ms. mcgee. she had two fingers on one hand, and she called one of the kids a fatso. i hid behind the teachers desk with my friend jamal that whole day.

ah olden days, golden days. bleh. right now i've got to work on not stinking so much, then go do some laundry and eat everything my parents have in their fridge.

peetq@hotmail.com

Nocturia

2004-05-03T22:24:00.000-05:00

partial listing of the contents of my bag...

--the book "double duce" by aaron cometbus
--the cd "escondida" by jolie holland
--"the complete sherlock holmes" by sir arthur conan doyle - found by a drainage grate on the loading dock at my work
--a rebus poster detailing the steps involved in making a peanut butter apple sandwich
a. get one apple
b. cut the apple
c. put some peanut butter on some bread
d. add the sliced apples and EAT IT
--a lionel ritchie album, ironicaly titled "can't slow down", because he's sitting in a chair on the cover, minus the actual vinyl. proffered to me by daniel damocles because of the fucking hilarious picture on the inside gatefold, depicting lionel in mid leap or swing, legs splayed, enormous hotcha grin, and grasping some firefighter's pole thing
--a resumé
--a postcard promoting an art show of the paintings of margo seleski at the art institute downtown. victorian looking people with rooster bodies. beeswax added to the canvases to give them an ancient cracked look.
--a pencil sharpener

peetq@hotmail.com

Bags of Bortsch

2004-05-02T00:12:00.000-05:00

while im sitting here, i feel like typing up the first part of something i finally managed to poot out into my ratty little journal.

so i found my mind and wouldn't you know, it's right where i left it, in a kindergarten class, on a shelf right behind the duplos. some kid almost used it to finish off his robot, but i got there just in time to save it from his mucousy grasp. i put it in my shirt pocket and went over to the play-doh table, where the action is. we were having cookies again. marshmallow and cod cookies or some variation thereof. nummers!

i was enjoying my big pink car shaped cookie, diloguing about animals, candy, and 21st century dystopian entropy when i was struck on the back of my neck by a plastic hotdog from the restaraunt area. turning slowly, i caught sight of the red streak of a dinner plate just in time to lean out of the way and allow the plate to bounce off of a little asian girls forehead and into her lap. she was more startled than hurt and just sort of stared at the table as if to say "another day, another plastic plate to the head."

yes, so thats my first foray back into actually using my journal. in part three, i end up wrestling with wilford brimley's moustache. it sounds better than it actually turned out, but at least i'm using the damn thing.

peetq@hotmail.com

Hair Bath

2004-05-01T23:27:00.000-05:00

i cant think of a goddamn thing i feel like posting.

an older african guy came up to me today while i was sitting in the purple onion, asked me what i was reading, if i write, and then pulled a giant three ring binder out of his backpack stuffed with four hundred pages of wierd poetry and partially fabricated dialogues that allways ended up twisting around to some fixated theology babble. it wasnt exactly babble though, it just seemed that way after 350 pages of essentialy the same thing. he would ask me if the english was coherent and then shoot into a diatribe about everything that was in the binder. i think i've seen him in there before, in the corner singing to himself. he seems extemely inteligent, if a little (or a lot) loopy, and reading some of that stuff made me feel a little lazy and stupid. it didn't have too much coherence or clarity, but he has an earnestness and dilligence i feel i'm usually lacking. of course then again people who save and name thier boogers have earnestness and dilligence too, but this guy wasn't quite that crazy, i don't think. i was also not feeling too social, and some stranger jumping into the booth across from me and dumping this thing in my lap was exremely disconcerting and awkward. this was all bookended by some distracted wandering through stadium village and dinkytown, so another odd and mildly doleful day.

peetq@hotmail.com

Sweating with the Best of Intentions

2004-04-27T15:26:00.000-05:00

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

schnarf

2004-04-27T00:35:00.000-05:00

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

Wrack Mount

2004-04-24T17:40:00.000-05:00

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

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

2004-04-23T17:13:00.000-05:00

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

Sign My Jacket

2004-04-21T13:34:00.000-05:00

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

Ass Computer

2004-04-20T14:38:00.000-05:00

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

mmpff

2004-04-18T09:10:00.000-05:00

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

2004-04-14T21:48:00.000-05:00

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

Stupid Goddamn Rassa Frassa...

2004-04-14T20:57:00.000-05:00

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

Outhouses of Valhalla

2004-04-12T18:03:00.000-05:00

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

Neon Meate Dream of a Octafish

2004-04-12T11:00:00.000-05:00

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

Rock n' Roll Items Part the Second

2004-04-07T23:06:00.000-05:00

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

Onion Dip Addicts

2004-04-06T18:15:00.000-05:00

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

Rock 'n' Roll Items

2004-04-06T10:59:00.000-05:00

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

Rodent Skeleton Carrying a Duck

2004-04-03T21:28:00.000-06:00

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

Rawk Robots of Planet RAWK

2004-04-02T01:07:00.000-06:00

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

Folderol and Gewgaw

2004-04-02T00:48:00.000-06:00

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

Wrestling Ass

2004-03-30T01:00:00.000-06:00

muppets pajama party went down tonight. yes yes. ate much cheese, even after severe jean claude van damme level gastric distension. i heard his intestines exploded once. so yeah, we got tired of the muppets, as absurd as that may seem. we're watching shao lin soccer now. it's a kung fu soccer movie. i have the distinct honor of updating the sorry ass blog from the complooter where dj relay lets all the hot shit gestate. i have been up for a very long time now. i can tell i'm not striving for my best achievement or chasing my dreams on this one. blame the dairy, i guess. can't concentrate. i'm riveted by supernatural kung-fu soccer. it's about time to call a cab.

peetq@hotmail.com