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EleCivil

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Blog Entries posted by EleCivil

  1. EleCivil
    Leviathan Rusts
    Everyday Adventures of a Social Misanthropologist
    ...
    ?I love you the way I love the efficient digestive system of the invasive zebra mussel."
    ...
    ?Rent?s due. I need it in my hand by sunset, or I kick your ass to the curb, then back in here, then back out to the curb, again. Why??
    ?Because you?re just that hardcore."
    ...
    "A guy doesn?t get any?relief?for as long as you, and he ends up simultaneously mounting and head-butting a Coke machine out of sheer frustration. It's the first corollary to Moron Theory. And you?re far too dignified for that."
    ...
    May is one long, full-scale taunt of a month. Simply calling its name forces thoughts of uncertainty. Will the weather be decent, today? It May. It fluctuates from violent to peaceful, from overcast and deathly quiet to glaring and buzzing with yellow jackets, all pollen-drunk and petal-blind. So goes the mood of its human inhabitants, equally flower-gorged. Equally beauty-stricken. Equally surprised by the sunbeams stretching for their hibernating eyes.
    ...
    December 2009


  2. 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


  3. EleCivil

    Generations

    By EleCivil,

    My first year teaching, I taught 4th graders. I then followed them to 5th grade, then 6th.
    These same kids are now 7th graders. I'm not in the classroom anymore - most of my day is spent riding a desk - but I still make time to visit that class.
    Today, I noticed that about half of them were wearing mismatched socks. You can easilly tell that these particular kids have been mine for 3 years straight.
    I was wearing mismatched socks as well. When the higher-ups questioned me about it, I said that my one white and one black sock was a Taoist religious expression, symbolizing yin and yang - an expression of the dual nature of man and my personal attempts to strive for balance. Their eyes glazed over and they let me go on my way. Point: EC.
  4. EleCivil

    Vampirism

    By EleCivil,

    True story:
    Student 1: "Mr. Civil, Student 2 just tried to bite me!"
    EC: (Turns and glares at Student 2) "I knew it!"
    Student 2: "What?"
    EC: "You're a vampire! I've been saying it for years, but does anyone ever listen to crazy old Mr. Civil? No. Well, now they'll see that crazy old Mr. Civil isn't really all that old. I mean, crazy." (Rolls up a newspaper into a cone.)
    Student 1: "What are you doing?"
    EC: "What must be done. Hold still, Student 2, you're going to feel a slight stakey sensation."
    Student 2: "I'm not a vampire!"
    EC: "That's exactly what a vampire would say."
    Student 1: "That's paper. The stake has to be made of wood."
    EC: "Well, paper is made from wood pulp...which is made out of wood. I'm sure the transitive property applies to vampire slaying."
    Student 2: "I'm not a vampire!"
    EC: "...You sure?"
    Student 2: "YES!"
    EC: "Oh. Well, then. Stop trying to bite people. Now, where were we? Math? Yeah, let's do some math."
  5. EleCivil
    So, I had this idea for a Halloween costume: I'd grow a goatee, and go as my own evil twin from a mirror dimension. But here's the thing - not that many people are nerdy enough to get it. (Blue, help me out. I know you've got my back on this one.)
    What I've noticed is that people seem to interpret my "costume" differently based on their own backgrounds. As a man with a shaved head and a goatee dressed all in black, people have mistaken my costume for the following:
    Wrestler Stone Cold Steve Austin:

    Actor Brian Cranston:

    Comic book character Wee Hughie:

    And of course, the Satanist, Anton LaVey:

    Simply from their guesses as to what my goatee-costume was, I can tell which of them reads comics, which of them watches wrestling, which of them likes Breaking Bad, and which of them has a secret shrine to the demon Baphomet in her basement. Pretty cool, yeah?
  6. EleCivil

    Ear-ly in the mornin'.

    By EleCivil,

    A friend of mine recently joined the Navy. He was in town the other day, so we (and a couple others) went out to a karaoke bar to hang out. Now, for as long as I've known him, he's always thought that it would be hilarious to get the whole group together and perform a boy band song on stage. The rest of us figured, hey, the dude's home from the Navy - we ought to indulge him. This was the day it was going to go down.
    So, we get a turn, and saunter up to the stage. He's already close to falling-down drunk (and he's completely tone-deaf even when he's not), so we know how great we're going to sound.
    As I'm stepping onto the stage, he bumps into me, and I bite my tongue. Hard. Like, broken skin hard. Honestly, it felt like I just bit off half of my tongue. It hurts like hell, but, hey - the show must go on.
    We get up there, and we pick the song "Bye Bye Bye" by *NSync. It was popular when we were in middle school, so we all knew it. The music starts, and I open my mouth and begin singing.
    There's a gasp from the audience, and in a few seconds I know why. No, it wasn't because we all suck at singing (though we do). It's because there's blood pouring from my mouth, dribbling down my chin in fairly large quantities. Needless to say, I also sounded goofy as hell, because the whole of my tongue was nearly numb with pain.
    In short, it may have been the most violent performance of an *NSync song, ever.
    A few hours later, as we're getting ready to go home, we notice that our Naval friend is missing in action. One guy goes to the restroom to see if he's in there. He comes back, laughing, and says "He's in there puking his guts out into a urinal, because some guys are smoking up in the stall."
    He stumbles back to the table, puts his head down, and stays in that position for the rest of the night. People at the table behind us entertain themselves by trying to bounce quarters into his exposed plumber's crack.
    Being sober, and therefore the designated driver, I carry him out to my car, Bride-of-Frankenstein style. Now, he hasn't been in town for quite some time, so I don't know where he's staying, and he's in no condition to tell me. Hell, he's in no position to point. I glance at the clock and see that it's two in the morning, and I think to myself:
    "What DO you do with a drunken sailor,
    Ear-ly in the mornin'?"
    I considered dropping him off on his grandmother's lawn. She lives close to me, so it was convenient, and it had the added bonus of making for a rather amusing story when he woke up. I decided it was a bit too cold to be leaving him on the lawn, however, and he ended up spending the night in my bathtub (because he wasn't getting anywhere near any carpets or furniture, heh).
    The next morning, he said "Man, that really sucked, but you know the worst part? We never got a chance to sing. That would have been funny."
    "We did." I replied.
    "What? Awww, I can't remember it!" He groans, gripping his head. "Were we good?"
    "There wath a lot of blood." I shrugged.
    "Oh. Cool." He says, looking rather confused. "Wait...why do you have a lisp, now?"
    "Becauthe the front forth of my tongue ith gone."
    "...Oh. Damn, I missed a lot."
    (Actually, most of my tongue is still there. It's just got a giant scab across the front. My whole mouth tastes like pennies.)
    "OH FUCK, MY TONGUE!
    WHERE'TH THE RETHT OF MY TONGUE!?"


    "Bye Bye Bye" by *NSync


  7. EleCivil
    Last night, I dreamed that Michael Cera and a dude I knew in high school were fighting for my affections, after an especially well-played, small-scale prank of mine caught their attention. I ended up choosing the dude from school, which made Cera kind of jealous. Then terrorists took the building hostage, so we had to put our personal feelings aside, team up, and fight them off. Which we did. It was the best dream ever.
    So I wake up, realize it's a dream, and think "None of that was real. That's too bad."
    Then I get to work and realize that the prank that I played in the dream - a simulated bloodless coup in which I seized control of my workplace - actually did happen. Last week (this was my first day back to work since), I waited until my boss was out of the building, then printed/posted some flyers informing everyone that I was the new boss, that I was to be referred to as "captain", and that everyone needed to salute when I walked into a room. There was also a list of ten or so new rules that I'd instated, placing limits on time machine usage, changing one group's job description to "Marching in formation while playing brass instruments," and so forth. I get to work, and I hear everybody laughing about the posters, quoting lines from them, and...speculating about who could have done it.
    That's right, I forgot to sign my work.
    But, come to think of it, that makes it funnier - there have been coups, before...but have there been very many anonymous coups, where everybody stands around going "I think some guy might have seized power, but I'm not sure who it was."? The only major down side is that nobody's saluting me. Yet.
    "And my politic is that dancing is
    The only cause worth fighting for
    Because after the revolution,
    Every intersection will be a dance floor."


    "Stop Being So Cool and Get Silly" by Wingnut Dishwasher's Union


  8. EleCivil
    Heist
    A friend of mine lives in his car, in a parking lot that's about five minutes from my place. Well, a couple days ago, his car was stolen. Which means that, when it comes down to it, his house was stolen. So he's been living here for the last day or two, claiming the floor in my room.
    Well, yesterday, we found out the location of his car. It turns out his parents had stolen it, using some spare keys that he had given them years earlier. It was parked in front of his mom's house a couple of cities to the south. Apparently, they stole the car in order to take away his options for independent living and force him to live with his dad.
    Now, if he was younger, I would probably side with his parents...but he's twenty. He has a job, and could be living in an apartment if he wanted to, but he just prefers his car. Since he's a legal adult, that's his choice to make.
    So, my roommate and I found ourselves driving him a couple hours south, under cover of darkness, to steal back his car. This made me think about my uncle.
    My uncle only gave me two pieces of advice: Never play cards with a man whose name ends in "y", and never take an intellectual along on a heist.
    I questioned both of these at the time, asking what was so bad about smart guys and guys with "-y" names. The first, he said, was because guys with a "y" at the end of their name are more likely to go by epithets like "Slick" or "Big" or the like, and that the last thing you want to find out when you're down five hundred bucks is that you've been slappin' jacks with "Smooth Jimmy Two-Shakes" or "Little Willy One-Thumb". That made sense. The intellectual business was a bit confusing to me. After all, I asked, isn't it better to have a smart guy with you to think of a way out of a jam?
    "Absolutely not," He said. "When you're doing something as stupid as robbing a bank, the last thing you need is someone smart around to let you know how stupid it is."
    I always kind of doubted his authority on that matter, though. He wasn't in trouble for robbing a bank; he was in trouble for having about two thousand parking tickets and for ramming his '93 Taurus through a lot barricade when the attendant refused to let him out without paying. He was no big-shot criminal, just a motorist with a penchant for parallel parking four feet from the curb and a reckless disregard for handicap-only signs. I never had the guts to tell him that much, of course.
    So I looked around the car - no one with a "-y" name, no "big" or "slick" nicknames. So far, so good. Then, I realized - out of this group, I was "the intellectual one". I was the only one in the car who hadn't dropped out of college, the only one who read books and had a philosophy on life that didn?t revolve around pot and Doritos. Yes, if asked to pick an "intellectual one" out of our group, most people would point at me. And that was no good at all.
    So, I thought, how do I remove any hint of intellectualism from myself in order to make this mission a success? It hit me: The Three Stooges.
    I pulled over at the next grocery store and purchased a pie tin and a bottle of generic canned whipped cream. I handed these to my currently car-less friend.
    ?What are these for??
    ?Obviously,? I said, ?If we get spotted, we?ll have to distract them while you get your car back. And nothing?s more distracting than a face full of dairy and aluminum.?
    ?Dude, I?m not going to hit my mom with a pie. This is the dumbest idea ever.?
    Mission accomplished.
    "Tonight, these streets belong to us, and we've been doing this for years, but soon that will be different. Tonight, we'll liberate them. Tonight, we'll liberate ourselves!"


    -"Parking Lot Punks Rule" by the Gainsville Liberation Orchestra


  9. EleCivil

    Avast.

    By EleCivil,

    After a lot of wranglin' with the financial aid office, I managed to tap into some more grants and scholarships. $12,000 worth, for my 4th year of college (4th year already? Jeez...). I'm almost going for free, now. Awwwwright.
    Last night, a friend and I dressed up in full pirate gear to go see Pirates of the Caribbean 3. At the last minute, though, we decided to see Knocked Up instead. We didn't change, though - we figured it'd be even funnier to be dressed as pirates that want to see a Judd Apatow movie than pirates who want to see a pirate movie. It was really good, by the way. Seth Rogan has always been my favorite of Apatow's regulars, all the way back to Freaks and Geeks, so I was glad to see him get a lead role.
    There's plans for a Guitar Hero party, soon. Everyone's going to dress as a different musician. I've heard people planning for Elvis, Gene Simmons, Kurt Cobain, John Lennon, and Claudio Sanchez. I've already got an Ian MacKaye costume planned, even though nobody there is going to know who Ian MacKaye is (philistines). I'll have to DIY a t-shirt with the lyrics to "Out of Step" on it.
    "I Don't smoke,
    Don't drink,
    Don't fuck,
    At least I can fucking think!"


    -"Out of Step (with the World)" by Minor Threat


  10. EleCivil
    I'm inspired. I want to write. I mean, I want to REALLY write. I want to pound out the rest of Laika, right now. I've got some poetry running around in my head, and another story, too. I want to get it all out. I've been pretty blocked for the past couple months, but now I'm ready to explode. In word form. Wordsplosion, Vocabustion, Abecedarian-Conflagration!
    Problem is, my laptop's battery has died. Completely died. To the point where, even when it's plugged into the wall, there's no juice getting to the laptop itself. The laptop's got all my writing files on it - character bibles, plot outlines, loose dialogue, etc. On top of that, it's the only computer I've got access to that's private, and I've never been able to write well in public.
    I've ordered a new battery, but it'll take somewhere around eight business days to get here. But when it does, expect a new chapter (or two) within a couple days.
    "No Reason Why - to beat up on a poser skin!
    No Reason Why - to keep the little kids from getting in!
    No Reason Why - to take advantage of the people you know!
    No Reason Why - there's just no reason why!"


    -"No Reason Why" by Gorilla Biscuits


  11. EleCivil
    This is going to be hard to write down, but I've got to get it off my chest. It's probably going to be tough to reply to it, too, so I won't hold it against anybody if you'd prefer not to.
    My dad's dying. Every male in my family tends to die young - my grandfather died at forty, my uncle died at thirty-five, my great-uncle died at fifty, and now my dad is dying at fifty.
    He's got two fatal respiratory diseases - lung cancer and pulmonary fibrosis. He's lost 70% of his lung capacity, relies on machines to help him breathe.
    My parents are living paycheck-to-paycheck. They have been for...well, forever. They've never had enough money to save any of it. A good 75% of their income comes from my dad's pay. And now he can't work any more. Problem is, he can't get on disability for 4-18 months, depending on how long the government takes.
    My dad tried to cash in his IRA retirement fund, to hold them over until either disability or life insurance kicks in, but they wouldn't let him. You have to meet certain standards to be able to cash it in early. They said that you had to be facing certain "hardships" to be able to do that. Two fatal diseases isn't "hardship" enough for them. They mean rich-man's "hardships" like buying your first house. We've never had the kind of money to even consider buying a house.
    So now I'm back home. In order for my family to survive, I've got to drop out of school, get a full time job, and become head of the household.
    My Dad's already said that he's not going to get chemo or radiation therapy - my mom would have to quit HER job in order to drive him to the hospital all the time, and then, even with me working full time, we wouldn't have enough money to scrape by. So he's decided to let it kill him, because he just doesn't have the money needed to live.
    I always thought I could beat the system - be the success story, the trailer park kid who, by studying hard and working three jobs and scholarshipping through college, could break out of the cycle of generations of poverty and finally BE something. I don't want to get to the top - I'm not looking for riches and fame. I just want to be a teacher. I'm GOOD at that. But the system doesn't let go that easily.
    So it goes. I've been working hard, so now I'll work harder. The system has me, but I won't let it break me. Things are stacked to keep everyone in their place, but I've got to prove that it doesn't have to be that way. I've got to, because...what else is there to do?
  12. EleCivil
    This has nothing to do with anything, but I thought it was a funny story.
    The other day, a friend and I were having a contest to see who could do their taxes fastest (nerd race!). He pulled ahead, so I shouted "Matt Lauer! You got me."
    He pauses and looks up. "What'd you just say?"
    "...You got me?"
    "No, the first part. Matt Lauer?"
    "Yeah, the guy from the Today Show."
    "I know who he is. Did you seriously just use his name as an interjection?"
    I nod. "Yeah. I like to think of it as 'taking the Lauer's name in vain.'"
    "You make so little sense sometimes, that when you talk...it's like one of Modest Mouse's early albums is playing."
    "Thanks."
    "That was an insult."
    "Aw, Matt Lauer."
    "You ain't machines and you ain't land,
    And the plants and the animals, they are linked,
    And the plants and the animals eat each other.
    Oh my God and oh my cat."


    -"Never Ending Math Equation" by Modest Mouse


  13. EleCivil

    Car crash.

    By EleCivil,

    I got into a car accident today.
    It's weird the way these things work out. I had just gotten out of class (RST244: Great Religions of the East) and since I'm a bit of a gym rat, I was going to go work out for a while to unwind. But, for some reason, I decided that I'd do my homework first. This is weird, because I never do my homework first, being the self-proclaimed Mayor of Procrastinationville. I take about an hour to do the homework, then get my stuff together and drive off in the direction of the gym.
    I'm going through an intersection when this huge tank of a van (a corporate vehicle for a local catering company) runs a red light and nails my rear passenger-side door. I spin out into the middle of the street - at least one and a half times around, because I ended up facing the way I came. The back window shattered, throwing a bunch of glass up into the front seat with me. I was shocked that no one else got hit, considering the wild, twisting path that I was propelled into taking.
    Anyway, the woman driving the van was really cool about it - she admitted it was completely her fault, and told the police the same thing. Apparently, she was trying to stop, but her foot slipped off the brake and she just barrelled through.
    Insurance is going to cover all of it, and nobody got hurt, but DAMN did I get rammed. Of course, like a good blogger, I got pictures:


    The part that really sucks is that my two all-time favorite CDs were in the CD player at the time, and because of the damage caused by the jolt, they're stuck in there for good. I've got them backed up as .MP3s, and that band gives their songs away for free anyway, and the CDs themselves are only five bucks each, but still...I bought those when I went to see them live. I drove hours to get to that show. It was the best one I've ever seen, and it was actually what inspired me to write Laika. I'm gonna miss those.
    Anyway, I wasn't hurt, she wasn't hurt, so I'm not upset. The insurance guys are being really awesome about it, too. Going to take the car in tomorrow (well...have it towed in, actually - the body of the car is mashed up against the tire, so it won't spin), and walk to work for the next few days. But I've got a coat, so everything's cool.
    The weird thing is, if I had decided to go to the gym right away instead of stopping to do homework first, this wouldn't have happened. This is, possibly, the one day in my entire life that I decided not to procrastinate, and look what happened.
    There you go, guys. The moral of the story is: Put things off until the last minute, or the Giant Catering Van of Death will descend from the sky like a Mothra Faulkner and smash the hell out of your car.
    "Next time I'll try for the first time in my life.
    It won't pass me by. Procrastinate! It can wait!
    I put it off. Let's start today!"


    -"Start Today" by Gorilla Biscuits


    ...y'know, I think that's the third time I've used Gorilla Biscuits lyrics at the end of one of these posts. That puts them in the lead.
  14. EleCivil
    My kickboxing instructor got kicked in the face. For some reason, this surprised him. Anyway, either his nose or his jaw was broken (conflicting reports), and he wants to take some time off. Completely understandable, since most people prefer to avoid situations that lead to them getting kicked in the face. As a result, my Wednesday night kickboxing classes have been canceled until further notice.
    Note to self: When changing in public locker rooms, do not wear novelty boxers. Those guys aren't checking you out, they're reading the words printed across your ass.
    Also, I got a second job as a tech gremlin in my school's computer lab. This mostly means that I'll be walking people through PowerPoint, over and over again. Should be fun.
    Oh, speaking of school, funny story. The other day, my science instructor (a sixty year old nun, mind you) was talking about pinecones - specifically, the difference between male and female pinecones. She's saying that the females "last a really long time, and can just keep doing their thing for as long as it takes", while the males "just blast their seeds all at once, then go limp, fall off, and roll away." I should also point out that I'm the only guy in this class. So I'm choking back the urge to laugh...because, come on, it's a NUN - you're not supposed to laugh at their innuendo. Then, this woman who sits in front of me turns around in her seat and gives me this big, exaggerated wink. That sets me off - not a huge, bellowing laugh, but just kind of a strangled chuckle. The woman in front of me turns around, acting completely innocent, just as everyone else turns to look at me. I hold up my textbook, trying to look extremely interested in the subject matter, but I'm not fooling anybody. The instructor looks over at me, gives this big sigh and rolls her eyes, telling everyone that that's another thing about pinecones - just like in humans, the females mature faster than the males.
    "In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
    And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down or cut him
    'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
    I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains."


    -"The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel


  15. EleCivil

    Mothra Faulkner

    By EleCivil,

    I just remembered that I had this floating around in my Photobucket page from last year. I was driving home from Lit class, and it hit me - I had to come straight home and make this image, because if I didn't, who would? I've been using "Mothra Faulkner" as an expression ever since, but I didn't really have any place to put the image before now. See, this is why blogs are cool - if you hadn't been reading this, you never would have been introduced to Mothra Faulkner. Unless you live in Japan, where I imagine he flies around from town to town, telling everyone about the American South.
    Someone sprayed some tags on the sidewalk in front of my house. I put a frame around it in sidewalk chalk, wrote "(neighborhood name) Art Museum" above it, then added a small label at the bottom describing it as an example of neo-classical post-gangsterism. Hope they like it.
    Also, I found a bunch of old shirts from 7th grade that still fit. Maybe it's a little creepy for a twenty year old to be wearing a shirt from the local junior high, but hey...I'm too broke to turn down free clothes.
    "Kids! If you want to piss off your parents...show an interest in the arts!"


    -"Imaginary Places" by Busdriver


  16. EleCivil

    Regarding Jackassery

    By EleCivil,

    My roommate and I went to see Jackass 2 the other day. That meant going to The Mall. Now, both of us were trailer park kids, so to us, the mall is pretty much the opposite of everything we grew up knowing. For instance, we KNEW that there was no way a clay pot could cost more than what our parents made in a month. We KNEW that t-shirts were 3 for $5 and came in bags. We KNEW that people don't actually act like they do on TV. The Mall, however, proves wrong every one of those beliefs. That's why we generally try to avoid it. Sadly, it has the only movie theater in town.
    We got there early, so we had to walk around for a while. My roommate (who's straight, by the way) heads for the bathroom. On the way in, he turns to me and jokingly asks "Do you want to help me?" I shake my head and tell him that I think he's got this one under control. About two seconds later, he walks back out.
    He looks around and says "Uh...some guys heard me say that."
    "Yeah?"
    "Yeah. One of 'em said 'fag', so I told him that that's not what his Dad said last night."
    I groan. "For fuck's sake...again?"
    He shrugs. "Can't help it. We should...uh, run."
    We start walking away, and two guys strut out of the restroom behind us. One calls out "Hey, faggot!"
    I take off my jacket and hand it to my roommate, then turn around, sighing heavilly. They kind of size us up, looking us up and down and then glancing between themselves. I get a good look at them - high school kids, dressed in "I think I'm a rebel but I paid two hundred dollars for these pants" clothes. I give them this look - just kind of cocking my head to one side, in a "did I hear you correctly?" kind of way. They shrug and walk the other way.
    I take my jacket back from my roommate. "How come I'm the one that has to protect you from gay bashers?"
    "'Cause you're intimidating, and I insult strangers."
    "Oh yeah."
    Then we saw Jackass 2, and laughed for the durration. It was better than the first one.
    "We say things we don't mean, but friends understand. Strength and humor don't always go hand-in-hand. A joke to you might not be so funny, so take the time and think it out before you open up your mouth."


    -"Things We Say" by Gorilla Biscuits


  17. 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


  18. 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


  19. 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!


  20. 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


  21. EleCivil

    Odometer +1

    By EleCivil,

    Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 22, now. Only a few more years until social security kicks in, right?
    I skipped class, half because it was my birthday and I wanted some time off and half because the class was going on a field trip to the zoo and I got lost on the way, and ended up spending 3+ hours driving around until I realized I had crossed state lines and was nowhere near the correct city, let alone the zoo. Yeah, my navigation skills are...non...good. On the plus side, though, I got a new music stand and some new (nylon) guitar strings for my birthday. Just in time for a show next Monday. New nylon strings = like the sangin' o' the angels themsalves.
    The summer semester ends in a couple weeks, so I'm preparing to go into final exam/project insanity mode. You'd think after the previous 8 semesters, I'd've learned to NOT put everything off until the last minute, but...nope. I'm resilient in my procrastinatin' ways.
    I had to read Nineteen Minutes for a lit class. UGH. Avoid like the plague. It reads like a Lifetime Original Movie ™.
    Little Brother was awesome, though (thanks for the suggestion, WriteByThySelf).
    Anyway, once I'm out of school, I should be able to find some time to write, again. My next semester's going to be easy - It's my last semester of on-campus classes, so it consists of all the random classes that I never got around to taking. I should have plenty of time to get creative with myself (that's not innuendo).
    "Now I know what I was born to do -
    I was born to hang out with you!"


    "Birthday Song" by Captain Chaos


  22. EleCivil
    Like I mentioned in an earlier blog, I've started writing again. It's rough going. I've never written this dark before, other than Fistfights With Flashlights (At least, I think - I wrote FWF all in one shot over the course of an hour or so, with no editing, no second draft, and I have yet to read it again). And, because of the nature of this new story, I keep putting way too much of myself into it. Every couple paragraphs, I've been stopping, thinking "Man, this is getting too personal. I've got to stop," closing the Word document, and walking away to do something else for a while. But I keep coming back.
    On another note, what's the deal with people and sidewalks?
    My college's campus is fairly open - a lot of grass and trees, with just a few sidewalks cutting through. I was walking from one side of campus to the other when I noticed that everyone else - EVERYONE ELSE - was crammed together on those little sidewalks. I was the only one crunching through the fallen leaves. The whole time, I was thinking, "C'mon, guys, if you're not going to kick through these leaves, what's the point of having trees around? Other than the whole oxygen thing, I mean." Humans are weird. I guess I still like 'em, though. They did invent non-dairy creamer, after all, and I do love some non-dairy creamer.

    As far as I'm concerned, mankind is redeemed.


    "We're going down, down, down
    To the bottom of everything,
    Just to see how dark life can get."


    "Down, Down, Down" by Daniel O'Sullivan


  23. EleCivil

    NaNoWriMo, Yo.

    By EleCivil,

    It's begun! I'm ahead of my daily word goal, so I'm happy. I'm hoping to hit 10,000 by midnight, tonight. I know I won't be getting nearly as much writing done during the school/work week, so I'm sneaking my laptop into work on the weekends to write during down time.
    If you'll direct your attention to the right of this post, you'll see that I've added a word-counter-ma-bob to the side of the blog. Feel free to berate and/or badger me if you don't see the number on that thing increase for a couple of days.
    You can click here if you want to see my NaNo profile, story synopsis, or an excerpt (once I actually post an excerpt, that is).
    The coolest thing about NaNo is the community. There's a fairly large number of us in the metro area, so we meet up at the local Barnes and Noble to talk books, writing, and geek culture. If you've never tried it, there's still time to get started - you're only a day or two behind. Just check out NaNoWriMo.org, and check the forum for your regional lounge to see if there are any meet-ups happening in your area.
    In other news, remember that six hour long standardized test I mentioned a couple posts ago? I passed it. I've got another three hour long one coming up on the 15th. Big fun, no doubt.
    "Picture a scene in your mind
    Look at all the people and take note of the setting behind
    Listen, watch, and wait
    A plot begins to take shape..."


    "Storytelling" by Belle and Sebastian


  24. EleCivil
    No one told me that when, over the course of 23 years, you accumulate roughly eight metric assloads of books, you eventually have to MOVE eight metric assloads of books. To a third floor apartment. With no elevator.
    Sweet Fancy Moses, this is gonna take forever.

    Yes, those are all books.


    But on the plus side...I've got a lot of books.
    Also, I've got a new place that's fairly close to my new job. Best thing about the new place? I can finally get broadband access. Up until now, I've been scraping by on my gas-powered 56k connection.
    "Our aspirations are wrapped up in books,
    Our inclinations are hidden in looks."


    "Wrapped Up in Books" by Belle and Sebastian


  25. EleCivil
    Handlebars!
    My roommate, my friend, and I have decided to grow handlebar moustaches. Given that none of us can really grow a decent moustache, it'll take a while...but it'll be worth it, because the handlebar moustache is possibly the funniest thing in the world.
    Now, I know that posting something like this without pictures is crazy, but I'm lacking in the digital camera department...so you'll have to settle for these quick CorelDRAW sketches.
    Current:
    [image removed]
    Soon:
    [image removed]
    Yes, I'm assuming that we'll form a barbershop quartet. And yes, I recognize the intrinsic numerical flaw contained within that prediction.
    "She broke up with me two days later. I think she met Don Juan in Italy. She has a new man, I have a new moustache!"


    -"Razor Burn" by Lagwagon


    ...it's hard finding relevant lyrics for a moustache-centric post.

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