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EleCivil

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Blog Entries posted by EleCivil

  1. EleCivil

    Brokenhearted.

    By EleCivil,

    Just got back from the doctor. Turns out I'm having some heart arrhythmia, and they can't figure out why. I'm due for an EKG on Wednesday.
    The last couple days, I've had to pop some aspirins to stop the chest pain it's been giving me. Those things thinned out my blood, so I can't stop bleeding from where I nicked myself shaving (and from the hole they punched through my arm to give me the ol' Transylvania treatment) . Now I'm covered in band-aids - it looks like I lost a Camp Sissyboy Slap-n-Scratch Fight ™.
    So, what's the deal? I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't eat meat, I work out regularly...why's my heart feel like it's gonna explode outta my chest, Alien-style?
    ...OF COURSE!
    That's it. It's an alien. Obviously, a hostile life form has chosen my chest as a place to cocoon itself while it matures from its pupal stage to its adult form, upon which time it will burst out, grab a top hat and cane, and sing "Hello, My Baby".
    I seem to have nothing but trouble with extraterrestrials. It's always "chest-bursting" this, or "death ray" that, or "To Serve Man...it's a cookbook!". Never met one who just wants me to draw a picture of a sheep (or a python digesting an elephant). Lame.
  2. EleCivil
    So, you might have noticed, but I kinda vanished from the face of the internet for the last couple of weeks. Couple reasons for it. First, the semester's coming to a close, which means all those projects/papers that I've been putting off...well, they can't be put off any longer. As such, I'm working double-time in the research department, and have more or less established one corner of the college library as mine. To the point where people go there to look for me, before trying me at home or calling my cell. My corner kind of resembles a cell, actually, but not the portable kind.
    Speaking of cell phones, that brings me to the other reason I've been seemingly vaporized. For about two weeks, I was worthlessly, bedriddenly sick. Like, wearing a pile of winter coats under an electric blanket in 70 degree weather, unable to do anything but shiver and cough sick. The docs said it was strep, but I know better.
    Joey Gumb, of Forever on a Tree fame, sent me a picture via cell phone. This picture was of a plastic action figure shaped like (supposedly) an angry syphilis germ. Attached was a caption along the lines of "I just gave you syphilis, bitch." The next day? Sick.
    That's right, ladies and gents. Biological warfare on the net-author front. He's obviously trying to take out the competition by infecting his contemporaries with e-syphilis (compatible with iPus). I got back at him, though. I made that picture of the syphilis germ his custom icon. This means that whenever he texts me, a little syphilis germ pops up to let me know. Heh.
    Bad news is, since it's a Textually Transmitted Disease, anyone I've texted since is at risk of contracting the e-syph. I suggest taking peni-cell-in.
    In non-syphilis news, I found out that, if all goes according to plan, I'll be graduating at this time next year. Huzzah for getting into the job market right when there's a huge recession! But I've got a secret weapon. That's right: macaroni necklace. Oh, yes, I'm bringing out the big guns. Nobody turns down an applicant with uncooked pasta around his neck. Know why? Shows I'm prepared. "Yeah, I see you eyeing my noodles. Go ahead and laugh, but when the great Midwest Earthquake hits, and we're trapped under a pile of rubble, then we'll see who's laughing: the guy with no food, or the guy with a string of carbohydrates strewn 'round his clavicle."
    Keep the sails high, pavement pirates.
    "And that?s the reason that we came and add a twist-ah.
    I thought that punk was all about the freedom, mister!
    Don't want to be the sound to tick off your list,
    We're bigger than this punk rock!"


    "Bigger Than Punk Rock" by Sonic Boom Six


  3. EleCivil

    EC on TV

    By EleCivil,

    I tend to go to the gym in the morning. This is because I, in general, run on two speeds - Stoic and Ridonkulous - and running a few miles or lifting until my muscles give out is the quickest way to shift out of Ridonkulous mode in preparation for work/school.
    It's usually pretty empty in the mornings. Today, though, it was busy. Turns out they were using it as a set for some kind of fitness video. As I was leaving the locker room after suiting up, one of the trainers grabbed me and said "Hey, want to be in my video?" I shrugged and said "Sure." They had me run around a bit, then had the trainer run up next to me, at which point I turned to her, smiled, and gave her a "friendly nod of recognition". At which point, I maintained speed and she ran off ahead of me, and shouted "I win!" and I laughed and did a kind of "defeated, but a good sport" shrug. Later, they had me pose/flex for the camera, wearing a plastic construction worker hardhat (with the words "Body Built At [gym name]" on it) for some reason. I guess because construction workers always wear their hardhats when they work out. And I suppose they think that construction workers are manlier than philosophy tutors like me. Personally, I think having a random dude posing with a copy of Man's Search for Meaning or something woulda been way more badass. And less Village People-ish. But I guess that's why I'm not a marketer.
    So, if you happen to buy a low-production, most likely shady fitness video from some late-night infomercial and see a confused-looking construction worker, that might be me. Heh.
    Oh, also, I hope everyone remembered to celebrate Time Travel Day on Sunday. There's only two days a year that you get to travel through time, so take advantage of it!
    "I hated gym, 'cuz I never was athletic.
    I played a couple sports just to keep it copasetic,
    But I found more in computers than I ever could in hoopin' -
    Every time I wrote a goto, bitch, I had that baby loopin'!"


    "Meganerd" by YTCracker


  4. EleCivil
    I swear, Ohio sucks at holding elections. We just make it hard on ourselves every single time. Miscounted votes, glitchy machines, too-close-to-call margins, extensions, and now running out of ballots at polling sites? Jeez.
    A friend of mine (a registered independent) was actually told that he wasn't allowed to vote, even though it's an open primary. He argued with the poll worker for over an hour before he gave up and found another polling site. You know, one where the workers read the newspaper. Or watch the news. Or glance at the "How To Work a Polling Site" brochure. He's wonky...er, devoted enough to drive around the city looking for a place where they'll let him vote - I've got to wonder how many independent voters just gave up, instead.
    We Ohioans sure do screw up the democratic process. Er, no, wait. I mean, we make democracy more sporting than those other states. On purpose. Yeah, that's how we roll.
    Also, I found out that my mom's boss snuck into the VIP section of a Hillary campaign speech the other day. Secret Service and assorted security teams wouldn't let her in, but then she noticed that the people in the VIP section all had drinks, so she grabbed a drink from a nearby tray and strolled in as though she belonged. She turned to the nearest group and said something like "Hey, I forgot to bring my sign. Anybody have a spare?". One of them gave her a sign to hold - only later did she actually look at it and realize that it said, in huge letters, "HOMOS FOR HILLARY". After a few minutes, Secret Service guys escorted her out of the VIP section (back to hang with the rest of the proles, I guess). Oh, this speech was in my old high school's gym, by the way. It was weird to think that a presidential candidate was speaking in the room where I once hurled a beach ball at a teacher and called him a fascist (ah, the good old days). It seems...strangely fitting, actually.
    And if you were wondering, I did go out to vote. I was the first ballot cast in my district, in fact. That and three-fifty will buy me a gallon of gas. Hey.
    "If a person uses a non-offensive vocabulary,
    That person is CONSIDERATE, not 'PC'.
    If a person has a heavy-handed agenda,
    That person is NARROW-MINDED, not 'PC'.
    In fact, unless you mean Providence College, 'PC'
    Is as meaningless as the president's apology for slavery."


    "Anarchist Bookstore (Part One)" by MC Paul Barman


  5. EleCivil
    Professor Layton has joined the ranks of my personal list of fictional heroes. As a logic tutor at college, I can't help but love the fact that there's a video game protagonist who fights crime by solving logic puzzles, whose catchphrase is "Critical thinking is the key to success!", and who is also a total badass. Just look at him (on the right).

    I also like the fact that he dresses just like me. All I need is a taller hat, and I'd make a right proper gent.
    Now, pardon me for a second, because I'm about to go all political. Those of you with small children may want to have them leave the room.
    I'll keep it short and sweet. I'm ready to declare, as a less-than-super non-delegate.
    Any Democratic super-delegates in the house? Listen close, because you're going to want to declare based on the elusive EC Endorsement. I don't pick losers. Except Kucinich. And Dean, back in '04. And Nader, back in '00 (But that one doesn't count, 'cause I was only 14). And...well, actually, I've yet to pick a winner. But, as Obama would say, "This time, for sure! Nothin' up my sleeve...presto!" Wait, no, that was Bullwinkle J. Moose.
    I was gonna endorse Obama, but you know what? Screw it. I'm voting my conscience. We need to show strength to our enemies in Pottsylvania.
    Bullwinkle/Kucinich '08
    Ally...OOP! A stronger tomorrow.
    "Thinking people can't be mind controlled - History knows this!
    So we'll teach our children to be skeptical of the government
    They'll question all the lies they're ever told
    They'll be fearless when they stop worshiping the flagpole..."


    "The Kids' War" by Attica! Attica!


  6. EleCivil

    Yarrrr.

    By EleCivil,

    I found out that my co-workers, boss, and supervisor have been using a nickname for me: "Mr. USA". The USA stands for "Undercover Smart-Ass". One of my co-workers explained it to me like this: "People always say, 'Oh, Civil's so quiet and shy', and I'm like, 'Wow, you've obviously never worked with him.' And I've got to explain, like, 'He's not being quiet, he's got comedic timing, and he's waiting for a set-up.' But that takes a while, so now we just say you're an Undercover Smart-Ass."
    She's right, so I can't complain. The only thing is, instead of just laughing, now they start a "U-S-A! U-S-A!" chant whenever I say something...er, smart-ass-ish. Ah well. Can't complain about a chant.
    Speaking of chanting, thanks to an assignment from a rather non-traditional instructor, I've got to write a rap song about educational philosophy. I'm thinking something along the lines of "Bloom's Raponomy" or "MC Vygotsky's Breakbeats of Proximal Development". Any freelance DJs in the house?
    "Maybe the times we had, they weren't that bad
    And everything else was part of our path
    We sang: "I don't know where we go from here"
    This is the anthem, the slogan, the summary of events
    And we all just idealize the past."


    "Somewhere in the Between" by Streetlight Manifesto


  7. EleCivil

    Christmastoberfest

    By EleCivil,

    "Haji was a punk
    Just like any other boy
    And he never had no trouble
    'Til he started up his oi band
    Safe in the garage
    Or singing in the tub
    Till Haji went too far
    And he plugged in at the pub.
    'Twas a cold Christmas Eve
    When Trevor and the skins
    Popped in for a pint
    And to nick a bag of crisps
    Trevor liked the music
    But not the unity
    He unwound Haji's turban
    And he knocked him to his knees.
    If god came down on Christmas Day
    I know exactly what he'd say
    He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
    But Oi to the world and everybody wins!"
    Haji was a bloody mess
    He ran out thru the crowd
    He said "We'll meet again,
    We are bloody, yet unbowed"
    Trevor called his bluff
    And told him where to meet
    Christmas day on the roof
    Down at 20 Oxford street
    If god came down on Christmas Day
    I know exactly what he'd say
    He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
    But Oi to the world and everybody wins!"
    On the roof with the nunchucks
    Trevor broke a lot of bones
    But Haji had a sword like that guy in Indiana Jones
    Police sirens wailing,
    A bloody dying man
    Haji was alone
    And abandoned by his band
    Trevor was there fading
    And still so full of hate
    When the skins left him there
    And went down the fire escape (Oi! Oi!)
    But then Haji saw the north star shining more then ever
    So he made a tourniquet from his turban, saving Trevor
    Then repelled down the roof
    With the rest of the turban
    And went back to the pub
    Where they bought each other bourbon
    If god came down on Christmas Day
    I know exactly what he'd say
    He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
    But Oi to the world and everybody wins!"
    If god came down on Christmas Day
    I know exactly what he'd say
    He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
    But Oi to the world and everybody wins!" "


    -"Oi to the World" by The Vandals


  8. EleCivil

    Untamed, Untranslatable

    By EleCivil,

    Plans for celebrating New Year's Eve:
    Step one: Strip to the skin.
    Free yourself of the trappings of the dying year. To have nothing between you and the fresh embrace of the new solar cycle.
    Step two: Throw open a window.
    Feel the breath of the new year on your skin. Also, ventilation for step three.
    Step three: Set fire to the previous year's calender.
    Part with the previous year, setting it to rest on your own terms. All anxieties, fears, doubts, and sufferings of the previous year are set ablaze.
    Step four: Tilt head to the sky and howl.
    Clothed in nothing but December's embers and January's breeze, let your first utterance of the new year be an unintelligible vociferation. A cry of victory over the previous year and a challenge to the year to come - a proclamation of intent to live loudly and love intensely, letting no impediment overcome such august ambitions.
    Step five: Sleep.
    'Cause it's late and I've got work in the morning. What? I can be practical, sometimes, too.
    "I must create my own system, or be enslav'd by another man's."


    -William Blake


  9. EleCivil

    Fielding

    By EleCivil,

    I spent the last two weeks in the field - student teaching, that is. Loved it. Kicked asses and took names...in a professional, educational kind of way.
    I've been on the edge of self-destruct mode for the past week. Between two jobs, night classes, student teaching all day, lesson-planning, and other assorted homework (TONS of physical science essays - I've done 30 pages so far, with no end in sight), I've been getting less and less sleep, leaving me to maintain consciousness by force of will alone.
    Today was supposed to be my last day of student teaching. On the drive over (it takes me a solid hour of driving to get there), I sneezed, suddenly and violently. When my eyes opened, I had jumped the curb and was driving on grass. I ran my car into a giant concrete block. The air bags went off in my face, giving me a black eye, a bruised jaw, and a bloody nose. The windshield shattered. The engine died. I'm pretty sure it's headed toward the scrap heap, because the car more-or-less landed on the block before driving over it, scraping it across the entire underside of the car.
    The cops came and took my statement - didn't cite me, marked it down as "loss of control". They offered to give me a ride, either to my house or to the place where I was going. Problem was, since it's such a long trip, both places were too far out of their city limits for them to drive me there. They took me to their station, instead. They patted me down on the side of the road and had me ride in the back, on the plastic seats with the thick bulletproof glass between us. I must say, that's not how I imagined my first ride in the back of a police car - I'd always pictured cuffs and flashbulbs, my collar pulled up over my face, and the sidewalks packed with supporters chanting "FREE CIVIL!". The black eye and bloody nose were in my fantasies, but I always pictured them being caused by police brutality rather than an airbag. Needless to say, I'm disappointed.
    You know what kills me, though? I didn't get to go in to teach. I had a great lesson lined up, and I really wanted to say goodbye to the kids, you know? I mean, yeah, I'm not happy that I have to find a new car with my no money, and I didn't appreciate having to wait around in the police station for four hours, but not getting to go to school really pisses me off.
    "Rick Santorum's got his shirt off,
    I think he's grinding Michael Chertoff.
    We'll play dress-up with Obama,
    He looks good in Bush's pajamas."


    -"The Party Party" by Attica! Attica!


  10. EleCivil

    American Dream

    By EleCivil,

    So, this guy asked me to write an intro to his paper on The Great Gatsby for him. I've never read the book, but I did it anyway. Here's what I gave him:
    It all started in 1942, when Private Johnny "Slick Hips" Gatsby of the 142nd Armored Tank Division awoke in his barracks and said "What this war needs is a little soul, see?" He immediately began dismantling the weapons and turning them into jazz instruments. The German war machine stood no chance against the funky acid tunes and swinging mid-tempo beats of Johnny Gatsby and his jazz band of brothers. After vanquishing the threat of the Axis, Johnny and three of his best friends, Georgie, Paulie, and Ringo, went on to form another popular band known as "The Beach Boys." The Great Gastby is F. Scott Fitzgerald's legendary chronicling of The Beach Boys' rise to fame and eventual fall from glory.
    Now, he doesn't believe a word of it, of course, but he says he'll use it anyway, because his instructor has a sense of humor. Plus, he's going to cite me as a source. I believe it's the first time I've ever been immortalized in MLA format.
    "Rappers say the darndest things
    That you'll ever hear
    Like 'I'm edgy' and 'I'm risque'
    And I say 'Better luck next year.'"


    -"Avantcore" by Busdriver


  11. EleCivil
    My dad's funeral was on Saturday.
    Our relationship was...unusual. If you've read Fistfights With Flashlights, you know what I mean. Beyond that, we just didn't "get" each other. Over the last few years, the longest conversations we had were arguments. We could go at it like you wouldn't believe, for hours at a time. It was really our main mode of communication. But...that worked for us. Most people didn't get that, but that's how it was - we'd always come out of those arguments with more respect for each other. I never did end up converting him to a raging radical leftist, and he never converted me to a conservative biblical literalist, but we did manage to somewhat mellow each other.
    For the last six months, he'd been sick - using oxygen machines and taking a pharmacy worth of pills every day - but he was still able to walk around, talk, do stuff. He was still himself. Then, all of a sudden, last Monday...he just wasn't. He couldn't walk under his own power. He would fall asleep at random times - in the middle of a sentence, while taking a drink, whenever - then he lost his voice, then lost control of his bodily functions. By Thursday, he was no longer conscious. Two Hospice nurses were here. Around two pm, one of them turned to my mom and I and said that we should come and sit by him.
    My mom whispered things into his ear and held his hand. I stood off to the side, silent. I counted the seconds between his breaths - one, one-thousand, two, one-thousand. At two thirty, he stopped breathing. I had counted up to fourteen one-thousand before I realized that that was it. It was over. My mom was crying. I wasn't. I still haven't. I don't know why that is. Maybe the six months of advance warning prepared me. Maybe I'm a bit of a heartless bastard. Maybe it's a bit of both.
    Today I took my mom in for surgery.
    I skipped class the last few days. My grades are going to hell. Whatever. I'll figure something out, later.
  12. EleCivil

    Heroes

    By EleCivil,

    When I was five, I got to meet the Ninja Turtles on the forth of July.

    I was thoroughly confused when I noticed that Donatello (my favorite) was carrying what looked like a hunk of PVC pipe instead of his wooden bo staff. I got the distinct impression that these weren't REALLY the Ninja Turtles at all. That, and that their lumbering, felt-covered forms lacked the ninja-like fluidity that I had come to expect. I was glad they were trying, but I remember thinking that if we were to get attacked by the foot clan, these guys wouldn't be much help at all.
    A year later, I met McGruff, the crime dog.

    Once again, I was forced into a position to doubt his crime-fighting ability. He was way too soft to beat up any bad guys. And he kept pointing at everybody, as if he expected us to do his job for him.
    I think that it was these incidents that made me first begin to doubt authority figures in general. The Turtles and McGruff were the most prominent crime fighters of the time, and I had the distinct impression that even I could kick their asses. Granted, McGruff tended to fight abstract concepts like "peer pressure" more than he fought actual bad guys, but still.
    Why bring this up? Mostly because I was looking through some old pictures and I thought that these were funny. There were some others: Age ten, playing the violin and scowling with my tongue out and my eyes crossed (my usual expression when being forced to play the violin), me as a baby "reading" a Shakespeare anthology as big as I was, etc., but these really got me thinking about how my generation was raised by anthropomorphic crime fighters. Maybe that's why they have to taze us these days - when we see cops, military, etc., at least part of us is thinking about big, clumsy, felt-monsters, the least intimidating things in the world. How can we help but rebel against authority, when the symbols of authority are so damn goofy?
    Man, I must be in a weird mood today. Ah well.
    "After being with a peace-punk in black,
    We're definite that you're never turning back!
    I love hardcore boys,
    I love boys, hardcore!"


    -"I Love Hardcore Boys" by Limp Wrist


  13. EleCivil

    Nostalgia

    By EleCivil,

    My schedule has been INSANE for the past couple weeks. It goes like this:
    Wake up at 5:00 am. Shower, shave, breakfast, etc. - the whole morning routine.
    Leave home at 7:00 am. Drive for a solid hour to an out-of-district middle school.
    Teach 7th graders about physical science until 3:30.
    Drive an hour and a half to college.
    Sit in class until 10:00 pm.
    Drive an hour to get back home.
    Write lesson plans and do homework for the next two hours.
    Wake up at 5:00 am and repeat.
    Teaching is fun as hell, but Matt Lauer, I'm exhausted. I find myself looking forward to weekends, when all I have to do is work an eight hour shift. But still, I'm glad I'm doing it, 'cause once I'm done...I'm going to feel like I can do anything. I mean, damn, if these 20-hour days don't finish me off, nothing will.
    Speaking of middle school, I was walking down the hall on my way out when I had an interesting encounter. First, let me set the scene: I'm wearing all black, since that's the only "professional" look I can pull off - black pants, black belt, black shoes, black dress shirt, long black overcoat, black boxers (though nobody knew about those but me), one black sock (the other was gray), and a black knit cap full of one-inch punk pins. I've also got a black backpack over my shoulder, which has a small, rubber Krusty the Clown keychain hanging from the back. From behind me, I hear someone shout "Hey!"
    I turn around to see a kid in one of the school's football jerseys looking back at me. He's got this cocky look on his face. I recognized that look immediately - that was the universal adolescent "I'm gonna start some shit!" look. Almost immediately, however, his face fell. He noticed the staff ID that I had clipped to my shirt. I had to refrain from laughing out loud and keep my professional face on.
    "What's up?" I ask.
    "Uh...sorry...I, uh...I thought you were, like, a tall goth kid."
    Whoa. Where the hell do I start? With the fact that he mistook me for a tall 14 year old (WHAT!?), the fact that he mistook me for a goth (No offense, but goth music sucks ), or the fact that this cocky little dude was about to start something, not only on school grounds, but with someone more than a foot taller than himself (I could have totally taken that 8th grader).
    Before I can say anything, he takes off.
    That was the first time I've been (almost) hassled by a middle school jock because of the way I dress since I was in middle school. Maaan, that takes me back.
    "Class traitor? What-fucking-ever!
    I'm just another middle class kid, too.
    But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self-loathing,
    So I'll class-hate myself with you."


    -"New Mexico Song" by Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains


  14. EleCivil

    Periodicals.

    By EleCivil,

    There's a big Periodic Table of Elements in the science wing of my school. Having not pranked anything recently, I decided that it looked like a good target. I printed up a fake element square, using all the accurate information for Aluminum, but changed the name to Al-Bundium. I made the switch a few days ago, taping the fake square over the real one, and it's still up there. I'm thinking of replacing an element with a sitcom character every couple days, and seeing how long it takes before someone takes them down.
    My school made it on the news because of our new GBLT club, Prism. It's getting protested, even though its faculty adviser is a nun and it's being backed by the Diversity Awareness and Action Committee. Here's hoping it causes some kind of ruckus. I love ruckuses.
    Also, I got a cheap used car to replace that one that I smashed. Hopefully I'll get the hang of driving a standard transmission again, because right now I suck at it. My last stick shift was in my Ford Ranger, which I referred to as my "Pick-up Full of Sweet, Sweet Love" (+10 cool points if you catch the reference) that I drove years ago.
    Finally, I've signed on for NaNoWriMo again this year. Last year I dropped out around the 10,000 word mark, so let's see how far I can get this time. I'm placing my bets at around 20,000.
    "Everyone tells me they're crazy.
    Crazy people aren't so fucking boring.
    Wake me when you're through being cool,
    'Cause I'm snoring."


    -"Unlisted Track" by Jawbreaker


  15. EleCivil

    Block = Broke

    By EleCivil,

    Ever seen the Chevy Chase movie "Funny Farm"? There's a scene where he sits down at his typewriter to start work on his novel. He types the word "The" and then stares at it for a while. That's where I've been for the last couple months. I'd carve out some time in my schedule for writing, sit down at the keyboard, and write "The".
    Well, yesterday, I wrote seven pages all in one shot. I'm hoping to finish out the chapter today (no promises, of course).
    So, who gets the credit for breaking my writer's block?
    WriteByMySelf. Yesterday, I read Alone With Myself for the first time. Whoa. I know WBMS reads this, so I'll just say it here: That was incredible. If that was published tomorrow, I'd go out and buy the hardcover version, just because it deserves a space on my bookcase (and that's valuable real estate). Seriously, if there's anyone reading this who hasn't read AWMS yet, go do it!
    Immediately after finishing it, I pulled out the ol' Horseless Typewriter (laptop) and hammered out half a chapter. Ever have that happen, where you read something that's so good that it makes you want to write?
    ---
    On another note, I found a chunk of a really old draft of Laika. Not the first draft (which was written in third person), but close. Back then, Dixie was a guy, and I was planning on him being the main love-interest (Nick hadn't been...uh..."conceived" yet). Consider it a "deleted scene". It's nothing special, but I thought it was kind of cool to look back on what I was originally planning, compared to how things turned out.
    "I gave hip hop to white boys when nobody was lookin'.
    They found it locked in a basement when they gentrified Brooklyn.
    I left a list of instructions, an MPC and a mic,
    My sci-fi library, and utensils to write."

    -"Grippo" by Saul Williams


  16. EleCivil
    The other day at work, my favorite customer came in. She's incredibly sarcastic and candid. Most people who work there get offended by her, but myself and a couple others think she's the best. She was arguing with my supervisor and one of the other work-studies. I was hanging around reading poetry (Maya Angelou, specifically) when she looks over at me and says "Why do you guys even keep him around? What good is he?"
    The other work study says, "Well...he doesn't do much, but he's fun to look at."
    My supervisor nods. "Yeah. Eye candy."
    At this point, I'm blushing like crazy, so I'm glad when I notice one of the students is looking for assistance, beckoning me over with her finger. I get up, and our favorite customer says (loudly enough for almost everybody to hear) "Oh, look, she's making him come with just one finger. That's impressive." Heh...best customer ever.
    I called off sick from work to go to a show last night. David Dondero, Matt & Kim, and Against Me! were playing five minutes from my house - I would have felt horrible sitting at work while that was going on. It was great.
    Dondero opened. He plays bluesy folk, but he always seems to open for punk shows. I used one of his songs while student-teaching to teach kids about figurative language, so it was cool to see him live. He played a cover of Jawbreaker's classic song, "Boxcar".
    Matt & Kim were a lot better than I thought they would be. They play dancey, cuddlecore-ish music with a keyboard and drums. I didn't like them very much when I heard their CD, but their live show is MUCH better. I was expecting it to be pretty tame, but they actually got a pretty good mosh pit going. I got a busted lip during "Yea Yeah" and a cut across an eyebrow during "Lightspeed", which was cool, because I got to show off my battlescars and blood trails for the rest of the night.
    Matt mentioned that it was their first time in our city, and that we made a good impression on him because of what he described as a "Strip-fooseball game" going on in the back of the club. He said something along the lines of "There's this totally ripped guy back there playing fooseball with his clothes off. Maybe you get really sweaty playing fooseball. I don't know, I'm not a pro. I'd get in on that, but you don't want to see any of this. Kim's been trying to get me to do some push-ups, so that I can...look like a man." Later on, he and some random dude from the audience had a stripping contest on stage.
    Against Me! was great. They played six or seven songs from their new CD, and a bunch from their older ones. They came back for two encores, playing "Impact" and, on request from the audience, "Baby, I'm an Anarchist" (which is one of their best songs, ever).
    About halfway through Matt and Kim's set, it started raining. There was a leak in the roof right above the pit, so there were a couple streams of water falling right on us. The boring people were fighting to get away, while the fun people were fighting to get under there and splash the boring people. I was in the pit all night (~4 hours), so I came out soaked in sweat (not all of it mine) and rainwater.
    If this show comes to your town, you should go. It's incredible.
    "'Cause baby, I'm an anarchist, you're a spineless liberal.
    We marched together for the eight-hour day and held hands in the streets of Seattle,
    But when it came time to throw bricks through that Starbucks window,
    You left me all alone..."


    -"Baby, I'm an Anarchist" by Against Me!


  17. EleCivil
    First, I've got running water. That may not sound like much, but I've been without running water for the last week. No toilets, no sinks, no showers. It smelled like a locker room, since nobody could bathe or shave or do laundry. I showered at the gym, and eventually I got sick of my half-assed beard and shaved in a nearby creek in the woods (I never felt more like Thoreau). But now I can shower at home again! And drink water! God, I missed drinking water!
    Second, I'm back in school. Turns out my adviser scheduled me for two classes at the same time, and didn't even think to give me a time-turner. Plus, on my schedule, it says that one of those classes takes place in a building that does not yet exist. I guess I'll go stand in the big field that's marked off for the construction of said building and see if anyone else shows up. It is an ecology class, after all - maybe it's outside.
    Third, I got into another Educational Methods class, which means more student-teaching. A full month, this time. You know what that means? More "professional attire". Ugh. I hate clothes shopping, because there's no section for me. I'm too old for the "Boys" section, too immature for the "Mens" section. They need to put in a "Dudes" section. Clothes for dudes. Dudes like me. Because for now, I have to buy regular professional clothes and just stick in a few safety pins for added flavor.
    Fourth, a friend of mine got into a really bad car accident. Like, his car was in two halves. Everybody was okay, for the most part. He looked really bad - he had a cut on his ear, which dripped all the way down his throat, making it look like his throat was slit. He decided to not wash it off and sleep on the kitchen floor that night to scare the hell out of his roommate. Heh. It happened just before midnight, on the night before his 21st birthday. So, much like his 1st birthday, he spent the first few minutes of it screaming and covered in blood. He didn't appreciate it when I pointed that out - not because he'd just been through a bad accident, but because it reminded him that he was celebrating the anniversary of sliding from his mother's gooey birth canal, and he didn't really want that image in his head before he fell asleep. Luckily for him, he had just turned twenty-one - old enough to drink, and thus wipe it from his memory.
    Last...the other day, there was a huge thunderstorm right when I got off work. As I'm leaving, my boss walks up and tells me to be careful on the drive home. I nod to her and say that I will, and she grabs my hands, looks into my eyes, and in the most serious voice I've heard, whispers "You come back to me, Civil. You come back to me." Now, she's always talking about how much she loves her employees, but I'm pretty sure that I've now seen my boss's pre-makeout face. And that's just weird.
    "He's at the show, talkin' feminism to get inside your pants,
    Oh yeah, he'll quote Emma Goldman, but he'll never get up to dance!"


    -"Stop Being So Cool and Get Silly" by Wingnut Dishwashers' Union


  18. EleCivil
    I got drilled and filled today. My tooth, that is.
    Man, I used to think going to the dentist felt masochistic, but now that I don't have insurance, it's even worse. "Here's two hundred dollars. NOW HURT ME, DOC, AND DON'T STOP 'TIL YOU'RE OFF THE CLOCK!"
    Anyway, I don't know if it's the gas or the fact that I'm leaning back with all the blood rushing to my head, but I always seem to get the urge to sing when I'm in the dentist's chair. When I got my wisdom teeth yanked, I got through three renditions of "Black Cadillacs" before I was finally knocked out (or so they tell me). I refrained, this time, only because I couldn't afford laughing gas. Still, on the drive home, I was singing along with the new Ghost Mice split when I noticed something - having half of my face numbed with Novocaine really did wonders for my "punk accent".
    For those of you unfamiliar, quite a few punk vocalists have a very distinctive twist to their singing voices. Sort of a combination of apathy, disgust, and the lingering effects of a stroke all wrapped together. Listen to one song by Lagwagon and you'll know what I'm talking about. As one of my friends put it, "Joey Cape sings like someone just punched him in the mouth."
    Without even trying, I was hitting Cape-level punk snottiness. This gave me the greatest idea in the history of music: At the opening of a show, the vocalist gets on stage and pulls out a giant needle full of Novocaine, which he empties into his gums. Sure, it wouldn't fly with the straight-edge crowd, and some may say that performance-enhancing drugs go against the DIY ethic, but still...injecting a giant dental syringe into your jaw before a performance? That's pretty hardcore.
    The answer is "A nova-cane," by the way.
    "But I assume the role
    Open my mouth
    And clumsy words escape."


    -"Violins" by Lagwagon


  19. EleCivil

    Orange Assassin

    By EleCivil,

    Some shady dude offered me a job a few days ago. Okay, not shady, but extremely polished and corporate-looking, which always comes off as shady to me (he was wearing a TIE). I'm pretty sure it was some kind of scam. He walks up to me in a store and starts chatting me up - what do I do for a living, am I "keeping my options open", etc., and tells me that he's in charge of expansion for his company and that they're looking for some employees. "Not worried about the knowledge part," he says, "We can teach you that. What we can't teach is honesty and integrity." And, obviously, I'm full of honesty and integrity, because he's known me for all of four seconds and can see that I'm...purchasing an orange (oranges - the fruit of integrity!). Anyway, he says he'll call me and fill me in on the details later, so I give him my number.
    He calls me later, and says that they'll only give out the details in person at some meeting that they're having on Thursday. Those details? Pesky little things like "Job title", "Job description", "Compensation", and "The name of the company that you'll be working for". In other words, EVERYTHING.
    Now, I'm going in for training at another job on Thursday, so I'm pretty sure I'm not interested, so I decide to mess with him a bit...because, hey, these are my phone minutes, and if I'm going to use them, I want something I can laugh at later. And, after all, I never gave him my full name.
    I ask him what kind of job he's looking to give me. He says they're not going to give out the details over the phone, that I need to come to the meeting.
    I lower my voice and say "Is it a hit?"
    "What?"
    "A hit. An assassination."
    He laughs. "No!"
    "Oh. I just figured that that's why you won't give me details over the phone. You know, because of the Patriot Act, and the domestic wiretapping and such."
    He gave me a nervous laugh and neither of us said anything for a while. Then he hung up on me without even saying goodbye. What a dick. I bet he WAS looking for a hit man.
    "The only silver bullet they use is that TV in your living room,
    And all we've gotta do is pull the plug.
    Don't go to the store today, no, don't you dare buy anything,
    Instead go out and try to fall in love."


    -"The Moon Will Rise" by Ghost Mice


  20. EleCivil

    Special Edition

    By EleCivil,

    A friend of mine came over late last night to borrow an Xbox controller. He comes into my room and says, in a conspiratorial voice, "You ready to deal?"
    Now, I know that he's referencing the fact that everyone tends to assume that we're drug dealers. This is because we act fairly strangely and both grew up in a neighborhood in which all of our peers became drug dealers/burned out meth-heads/suicides.
    Playing along, I say "Oh, would you like to purchase some drugs? I'm accepting PayPal, now!" That's when I notice that his new girlfriend, who I had yet to meet, was standing in the doorway behind him. Awesome. Now she definitely thinks I'm a dealer.
    He says, "How about a trade? I'll give you this." He hands me a DVD case, while holding back laughter. It takes me a few seconds to recognize that the DVD case has a picture of a rather underdressed woman with a rather oversized penis in her mouth. The title? "Dick Lickers: Blowjob Edition".
    Now, the natural reaction would probably be to either laugh it off or hand it back to him. I did neither. I just stared at the title in wonder.
    "Blowjob Edition", to emphasize the fact that THIS edition of "Dick Lickers" contains oral sex.
    And all I could think was "What's on the NON-'Blowjob Edition' of 'Dick Lickers'? What other editions are there? 'Dick Lickers: Do-It-Yourself Drywall Repair Edition'? Dick Lickers: Global Warming Awareness Edition'? Is it like 'Law and Order', where there's a bunch of different spin-offs all with different characters, or is it a Three Stooges-esque series, in which those wacky Dick Lickers find themselves in zany (sticky?) situations every week?"
    And then I remembered that his girlfriend was standing there, watching me stare, transfixed, at the cover of a porno, no doubt thinking that I'm a sexually repressed drug dealer. I make the best first impressions.
    "You say you don't like the Ramones, but I think we're a lot like the Ramones
    Because we look good together but we can't get along - we're a lot like the Ramones."


    -"...Everything You Hate" by Delay


  21. EleCivil
    I got my Praxis scores back:
    Reading - 186 out of 190
    Math - 182 out of 190
    Writing - 182 out of 190
    Passed!
    I was hanging out with some friends the other night, playing some Geometry Wars. We're all really competitive with each other, so it's the perfect game for us. It was my turn, so I went to sit on the couch. There was one other guy on the couch, and he was sitting right in the middle, so I had to squeeze in next to him. I turn to him and say "Move over a bit, man, this is awkward." He grins and moves over, but toward me instead of away from me. So now he's full-on leaning against me, trying to make me feel uncomfortable. I think to myself "Oh yeah? I'll show him who's uncomfortable!" so I drop an arm around his shoulders. At this point, the other guy in the room sees that we've started an Awkward Moment Contest, and joins in - he runs over and sits on my lap. So to one-up him, I rest my other hand on his thigh.
    One of them finally says, "You know, seeing as we're all way too competitive for our own good, we shouldn't play this game. Knowing us, it could actually progress to one of us fucking the other one, shouting 'Hey, this is so wacky! I bet I'm making you feel uncomfortable right now!'. And then the third one's going to want to top that, somehow, and it'd turn into a real life Aristocrats joke before any of us would give up." We recognized that he was probably right, so we broke it up and went back to Geometry Wars.
    "Some say monsters died out before I was ever born,
    But I think they're still around now, so could you please walk me home?
    'Cause they're tearin' tearin' tearin' through the streets now,
    And tearing's never as good as I recall."


    -"I Know Monsters Well" by Punkin' Pie


  22. EleCivil

    Sergio the Pope

    By EleCivil,

    I was digging through some stuff the other day and I came across a notebook from my sophomore year in high school. It contained a play that I wrote for Drama class, which was banned from being performed because...well, it's excessively violent, sacrilegious, and it didn't have enough parts for the whole class. But, hey, if you're interested in seeing some of my earliest recorded work, read on. Reproduced for the first time since 10th grade...

    Sergio the Pope


    ::The Pope's office. The Pope is getting ready to give a speech. Bill, the Pope's assistant, is assisting.::
    Pope: Is my hat on straight, Bill? I've got to look my best for this. Today is the day that I finally announce the big news: that I am, in fact, Catholic.
    Bill: Thereby making that sarcastic expression about the topic much more valid.
    Pope: Exactly. Now, I-
    ::The Pope gasps for air, clutches his chest, and falls over.::
    Bill: Good Lord! He's dead! No...this can't happen. If people found out, the ensuing power struggle would lead to a bloodbath!
    ::Bill conceals the Pope's body under a pile of leaves.::
    Bill: There. Now that he's camouflaged, all we need is a replacement Pope.
    ::Enter Serio, sneaking by with a loot bag over his shoulder, his back to Bill. Bill taps him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and drop the bag. Expensive looking things spill out.::
    Bill: Who the hell are you? What are you doing in the Vatican?
    Sergio: Blast! Captured! How could I, Sergio, King of all Pirates, get spotted by a lowly assistant! My reputation is ruined!
    Bill: Hmm...pirate king, you say? So you're used to giving speeches to the other pirates, right?
    Sergio: Well, I do perform some stand-up comedy at the annual pirate convention in Texas.
    Bill: Good enough. I've got a proposition for you...your holiness.
    Sergio: My...holiness?
    Bill: I want you to take the place of the Pope. In return, I won't turn you in, and you'll get to maintain your reputation as pirate king.
    Sergio: But I can't be the Pope! I slept through Latin!
    Bill: Just fake it!
    Sergio: Isn't lying a sin?
    Bill: What's it matter to you? You're going to hell, anyway.
    Sergio: Fair enough. I'll do it!
    ::Curtain closes - opens on The Pope waking up in his office and turning on the TV.::
    Reporter: On the lighter side of the news, The Pope will be performing his now famous stand-up routine a this years Pirate Convention in Texas. The Pope, seen here swinging in on a chandalier with a cutlass between his teeth, is said to have some all new material in addition to his crowd favorite "What's the deal with Archbishops?" set.
    ::The Pope turns off the TV::
    Pope: An impostor! I'd recognized that Pope anywhere. My old nemesis from my days in the Spanish Fleet...Sergio! 'What's the deal with archbishops,' indeed. I'll show him what the deal is!
    ::Bill and Sergio enter. The Pope hides behind a chair.::
    Bill: So, after the "You might be a Catholic if..." bit, you should probably throw in something like "And by the way, I really am the Pope. I'm definitely not some sort of pirate royalty."
    Sergio: But, I am pirate royal- Ohhh...right. To give me some more credibility. I get it.
    Bill: Exactly. Ah, here it is.
    ::Bill picks up the Pope cane and hands it to Sergio. They walk offstage.::
    ::Curtain closes - opens backstage at PirateCon.::
    Bill: Okay, your holiness. This is your time to shine. Show everyone that you're not only the Pope, but that you're the funniest Pope since Pope Cosby the 14th.
    ::The Pope bursts in::
    Pope: Sergio!
    Sergio: ::gasps:: Captain Victor Raftsbane, pirate of the Blackest Flag!
    Pope: Um, no. I'm Pope Mathew Mark Luke the 4th. Or as you may remember me, Admiral Mathew Mark Luke of the Spanish Fleet!
    Sergio: Doesn't ring a bell.
    Bill: It's the Pope, you idiot! The real Pope!
    ::Bill shoves Sergio out of the way.::
    Bill: Your Holiness! Thank the Lord, you've come back! Now you can replace this fake Pope and things will be set right!
    Sergio: Hold it! I have no intention of being replaced! I'll have you know that I enjoy being Pope. I get my dry cleaning done for free, people kneel when I enter rooms, and I can have any woman I desire!
    Bill: Um...about that...
    Pope: Forget it, Sergio! Now that I'm back, it's simply a matter of exposing you to the public.
    Sergio: You can't expose me if you're dead! The truth shall never leave this room!
    ::Sergio draws his cutlass::
    Pope: We both knew it would come to this! On your guard!
    ::The Pope draws a sword, previously concealed under his robes. Bill hides under a chair.::
    Pope: Come on, big man! Pirate King!
    Sergio: Arrr! You'll be adorning me blade by the end of the night!
    ::The two begin sword fight - choreograph fight based on actor's physical abilities::
    Pope: Who's your holy father? Who's your holy father?
    Sergio: I am Sergio...THE POPE!
    ::Sergio charges, but the Pope parries and runs him through.::
    Pope: HAHA! I did it! I beat the Pirate King! I am the greatest Pope of all time!
    ::The Pope clutches his chest and falls to his knees, gasping for air.::
    Pope: ...I suppose I should have gone to see a doctor after that first heart attack...instead of...swashbuckling...
    ::The Pope falls over, dead. Bill stands up.::
    Bill: Oh no! Now we don't have ANY Popes! And he's supposed to go on any minute! Where am I going to find another Pope on such short notice!
    ::A 70's-era pimp struts by, spinning his cane::
    Bill: Good enough. Excuse me, sir! What's your name?
    Pimp: Why, I'm Pimp Daddy McGoose, greatest pimp in all of Texas!
    Bill: How would you like to be the Pope?
    ::Bill offers the pimp the pope hat and cane. The pimp drops his own hat and cane and accepts them, then struts in front of a mirror to admire his new gear.::
    Pimp: I can dig it.
    ::Curtain closes::

    The End


  23. EleCivil

    Brakes = Broke

    By EleCivil,

    This is an older (true) story, from when I was in high school. I was 16 at the time. I was thinking about it as I was driving home this morning, and thought that you guys would appreciate it.
    I was driving to school in my Dad's Cadillac. It was a piece of junk - older than I was, on it's 5th or 6th owner, beaten all to hell, but I was 16, so I thought it was awesome. It was raining heavily. I was going up this huge hill when my brakes cut out. Mind you, I didn't notice that the breaks were out until I was on my way DOWN said hill at 50 miles per hour. At first I thought I must have driven through a puddle, so I started pumping the brakes. When that didn't work, I hit the emergency brake. That did nothing. As Mitch Hedberg once said, "It shouldn't be called an Emergency Brake. It should be called an Emergency Make-The-Car-Smell-Funny Lever."
    I'd never used emergency brakes before, so I figure, hey, maybe THOSE need pumping, too. So, now each leg is pumping. Because of the position of the emergency brake, I have to rise slightly from my seat in order to pump it. Now, pumping both legs while in a half-squat position, semi-restrained by a seatbelt, results in a series of repeated, rhythmic hip-thrusts. I don't know if you've ever seen someone thrusting their hips while hanging off of a steering wheel, screaming obscenities with a wild look in their eyes, but let me tell you...it looks a lot like they're making violent, passionate love to their steering column.
    I noticed that I was coming up on a red light, with other cars already stopped, so I moved into the turning lane and started blasting my horn. Keep in mind, I'm too terrified to take my hands off of the wheel, so, yes, I had to hit the horn with my hips. Now it not only looks like I'm engaging in intercourse with my steering column, but it sounds like it's enjoying it.
    As I roll through the red light, thrusting, screaming, and hump-honking, I can only imagine what the people lined up at the red light are thinking as they look over and see me. I have visions of old people shaking their heads in disgust, turning to their passengers, and saying "Damned crazy teens."
    I keep this up for a while before I finally realize that all the pumping isn't getting me anywhere (with the brakes, that is), so I say "Hell with it, this car's toast, anyway," and throw on the parking brake just as I take a turn into a parking lot. There's a huge THUMP sound and the tires squeal. Smoke comes pouring out from under the hood as I jerk to a sharp stop, with one last full-body thrust against my seatbelt. I fall back against my seat, sucking in air, and considering my position and feelings of mixed exhilaration and relief, I'm forced to wonder for the first (and possibly last) time in my life...did...did I just fuck a Cadillac?
    "Rejoice! Although this world will probably hurt you.
    Rejoice! Despite the fact this world will kill you!
    And rejoice! Despite the fact this world will tear you to shreds...
    Rejoice! Because you're trying your best!"


    -"Rejoice!" by Andrew Jackson Jihad


  24. EleCivil

    Praxis of Evil

    By EleCivil,

    The sun was hot, the breeze was cool, the music was loud, and my sleeves were short. Yes, that's right...a perfect day to have to go and take a three hour written test.
    I took the Praxis I test, yesterday. That's the first of three tests that you need to pass to get a teaching certification.
    Praxis I tests you in reading, writing, and math.
    Praxis II tests you in your specialized content areas (English and science, for me) and pedagogy.
    Praxis III is an in-class evaluation, where they come and watch you teach.
    I got back my scores on the reading and math sections, but the writing will take longer, because they have to grade an essay in addition to the multiple choice questions.
    Here's the shocker: I scored higher on math than I did on reading. I passed both, but it's still weird. Weirder still, I thought writing was the hardest part. I swear, if I pass math, but fail writing, I'm going to be double-plus-pissed.
    "Sandro came back from world travel stupider than left,
    Even good guys fight each other, even bad songs are theft.
    We walked stupied, he talked stupid, he could not comprehend,
    So everyone called him...a stupid man."
    "


    -"Harem in Tuscany (Tartana!)" by Gogol Bordello


  25. EleCivil

    The 4th

    By EleCivil,

    Ever completely forget that other people were in the house, and start doing something that even you think is kind of weird?
    Yesterday morning, I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shaving my head, when I started singing:
    "Shaving my dome,
    Shaving my big white dome,
    I don't get razor burn
    Because I use a lot of foam!
    I wake up and shave my dome
    At the break of dawn,
    Yes, I'm shaving my dome,
    With my bath towel on...."
    I was about to start in on a second verse when I realized that, since it was the fourth of July, everybody was off of work, and waiting to applaud as soon as I stepped out.
    That night, some friends and I chased each other around with sparklers and traded protest songs. It was cool, but a couple people kept trying to get me to drink.
    "Dude, you'll be 21 in, like, four days. We're not going to turn you in or something. It's four days!"
    I was dumbstruck - they actually thought that the reason I don't drink is because it wouldn't be legal. I had to explain, like, since when do I care about the law? Fuck the law. I'm not going to be one of those posers who blunts their edges the day the law says that they can.
    Oh, yeah - I turn 21 on Sunday.
    "I learned all about Liberty.
    It's a statue near a harbor in a city called New York.
    And I learned that statues are things that we build
    To remind us of things that have died."


    -"Liberty is a Statue" by Evan Greer


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