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EleCivil

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Blog Entries posted by EleCivil

  1. 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.
  2. 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


  3. 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


  5. 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


  6. EleCivil

    Magical History Tour

    By EleCivil,

    I've been driving around to various historic locations, getting pictures for a travelogue I'm writing for an Ohio History course. It's a lot of fun. I'm seeing a bunch of towns, cities, and even parts of my own city that I never usually see.
    Here's a picture of me at Fort Meigs, watching suspiciously for the British Navy (Camy, I'm looking in your direction - you'd give me a heads up if you guys were going to give it another go and put us colonists in our place, right?).
    [image removed]
    Also, I've been given a student teaching assignment. Looks like I'll be driving for more than two hours every day for four months. So, that'll suck, but once that's done with, I'll be done with college. For a while, anyway.
    My placement is way out in the boonies in Michigan. It's weird. I'm used to the Big City ™, with our graduating classes of 600+ and our businesses that are open past nine. To get to my placement, I have to leave the city, then drive through roughly thirty miles of corn. Fun stuff, right? But it'll be cool to see how a rural school differs from the urban and suburban places that I'm used to.
    Funny story, though - I'm at the school with my adviser, waiting to meet with the cooperating teachers. We're both dressed in black suits, and I'm wearing a black fedora, cocked jauntily to one side. A student walks through the room, sees us, does a double-take, and just mutters "Whoa." I think she thought that we were there to erase her memory to cover up extraterrestrial activity. Or maybe sell some bootleg gin at the school's floating craps game.
    Anyway, I've gotten a look at exactly how much work I'll be doing for these next few months, and it's not pretty. Don't expect to see much of me between January and June.
    "Wisdom, it comes, but age don't unlock it:
    You've got to spend all the passion you've found.
    With more change in their heads than in all of their pockets,
    Some can show you the way to slow down."


    "Bones" by Christians and Lions


  7. 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


  8. 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


  9. 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


  10. 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.
  11. EleCivil

    Fate

    By EleCivil,

    For the past week, I've been standing on one foot quite a bit. Basically, cutting down on foot usage by 50%, not by walking less, but by only using one at a time. I had no idea why that was until today.
    I'll start at the beginning, I suppose, because no matter how stylish stories that start at the end may be, a bit of sequence now and then can be refreshing.
    I tend to not cash my checks right away when I get them. I usually wait until I actually need money for something before going to the bank. Well, I've been able to stretch a check pretty far in the past, but the past few weeks has been a new record. I had, in my back-log, two checks from each of my two jobs as well as a state tax return check.
    I checked the fridge earlier today and noticed that the only edible items in the house were as follows:
    -A half-gone carton of soy milk (which, according to another article posted on this site, is apparently turning me even gayer)
    -A can of Pepsi whose label indicates that it would be best to drink it before June of 2001 (I'm holding on to it in case I ever find a time machine. I don't like Pepsi, but I'd drink it anyway, for the sake of science.)
    -A tub of whey protein powder
    And, finally,
    -A single slice of bread
    I was faced with a tough decision - spend the first official day of spring break doing much-needed grocery shopping, or see if I could survive for a day on some kind of whey-and-mustard mixture spread on a piece of toast. Not putting that much faith in my culinary skills, I went shopping.
    On the way back, I noticed a sign for a yard sale. Not usually my thing, but a friend recently told me how he found an old Sega Master System at a yard sale for cheap, so I thought, hey, I'll give it a shot.
    That's where I found it - a beautiful old skateboard, covered in scratches, but shined up really nice. I haven't been on a skateboard since middle school; haven't even thought about taking up skating again, but this board caught my eye. That's when I realized why I had spent the past week standing on one foot: Balance. I'd re-taught myself to balance, without even thinking about it. It was fate. Everything fell into place perfectly to put me and this skateboard at the same place at the same time - spring break, the yard sale, running out of food, having a big enough backlog of checks that I had some spare cash to spend...it all came together.
    It all came flooding back - the hours I'd spent in the summer of 6th grade, skating around the neighborhood. Getting my neighbor to beg his parents for a board so that we could go together. And of course, my proudest hour - beating one of the high-schoolers at a game of Chicken. He made the mistake of actually caring about his/my wellbeing...I, on the other hand, closed my eyes and launched myself at top speed, shouting "Sic semper tyrannis!" (yes, I was weird when I was 11, too).
    I'm so excited! If only I didn't have to leave for work in a couple minutes...but I've got the rest of the week to play around on this thing before school starts again.
    Hi-ho!
    "After weeks of winter that just wouldn't quit, and the headlines remind me the world's gone to shit, I ride my skate to the park, because sometimes that's all that someone can do. And I try not to think that it's only fashion or that the teenage boys are patriarchy in action, 'cause it's Saturday morning with my friends and we're fuckin' thrashin'! And this feels better...better than it has in weeks."


    -"This Feels Better" by Defiance, Ohio


  12. 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


  13. 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


  14. 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


  15. EleCivil

    Jetset

    By EleCivil,

    I came to a clearing in the woods, a small sunlit patch of rabbit-bitten blades, over which the blue was struggling through the insatiable leaves. As a branch broke under my foot, there was an explosion of birds, feathery shrieking shrapnel sent flying across the canopy gap. Further up, jets from the nearby airfield scurried across the sky, bushy tails dragging behind them. Jets, surpassing the birds in speed, size, efficiency, capacity...every category but beauty.
    Whispered "Why are you migrating, you jealous, straining beasts?"
    The birds made sense, but from the humans, no answer. Never any answer.
    "Where are you running, great-and-mighty self-escape artists?"
    And they fled from my questions, fled faster than the birds as they moved to escape the violence of my errant step.
    "Why do you fear me, oh self-made masters? Have you, too, mistaken me for your predator?"
    "Am I your predator?"
    Am I...
  16. EleCivil
    I got a job. Just in time, too, with less than two weeks before school starts.
    I don't want to give too many details in a public post like this, because I wouldn't want to be recognized (hit me up on AIM or YIM if you're that curious about the details).
    Here's what I can tell you:
    I'm a reading teacher for a mix of elementary and middle school students (that's right - my designation is "EleMiddle." Heh.)
    It's an inner-city school with 99% of the population below the poverty line. Many of the students are homeless, parentless, or penniless.
    It's a very poor school in a very poor area during a recession, so I'll probably be laid off at the end of the school year, regardless of performance.
    The school has no art, music, gym, recess, or extra-curriculars. These were all shut down because of low test scores.
    The school itself is on the verge of being shut down by the government (depending on this year's test scores).
  17. 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


  18. 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


  19. 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


  20. EleCivil

    Mr. Clean

    By EleCivil,

    A friend gave me an early Valentine's Day present today. Simpsons fans should appreciate it:

    "It says 'Choo-Choo-Choose Me'! And there's a picture of a train!"
    Ah, classic Simpsons.
    I was in Biology class, learning about organic chemisty, when all of a sudden I realized something: I'd never shaved my head before. Not once. So after class, I went home and did it, then came back for my next class. There's a couple people who are in both classes with me, and they were pretty shocked. I wasn't sure if I'd like it or not, but I think it's pretty cool, especially since I now better resemble one of these guys:
    [image removed]
    "Oi! You stupid skinhead."


    -"Mouseteeth" by This Bike is a Pipe Bomb


  21. 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!


  22. 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


  23. EleCivil
    Wow, it's been a while since I've written anything in here, huh?
    Well, I've got a fairly good excuse, this time - with my commute added in, I'm working about 13 hours every day. For no money. In fact, I'm paying about 10k for the privilege of working 13 hour days. That's right - I'm student-teaching.
    I've already finished up with my stint as a language arts teacher. Right now, I'm teaching science. Starting on Monday, I'll be teaching not only general science, but for one hour a day I'll be teaching forensic science - crime scene investigation stuff, like DNA fingerprinting, blood spatter analysis, and fingerprint lifting. This means that I get to stage crime scenes around the school, drawing chalk outlines and leaving bloody footprints and such. Fun, but it doubles my workload. I'm looking at 14-15 hour days, now. My 8 hour shifts on the weekends are like a vacation. I'm pretty much a coffee-fueled zombie.
    For more of my wacky, school-related adventures, check out the thread "8th grade is more exciting the second time." at Codey's World.
    ---
    A pothole ate one of my tires, the other day. Actually, not just the tire - the entire wheel was mashed to oblivion. I couldn't even change it - I had to call AAA, who actually had to chip away the old wheel with a chisel. The pothole had to have been at least five inches deep, and it stretched across an entire lane of a two-lane road - there was no way to avoid it. AAA had had so much business because of that pothole that they had a guy stationed there, so it didn't take much time. The mechanic suggested that I send the wheel to the city, so that maybe they'll get to work on that ridiculous pothole.
    ---
    True telephone conversation:
    EC: What are you doing?
    Friend: Drinking coffee, listening to techno, working. You?
    EC: Same, except replace "techno" with "NPR."
    Friend: ...
    EC: I mean, "punk." I'm listening to punk! Uh, hooray for anarchy. I'm definitely not listening to Garrison Keillor talk about Lake Wobegon, right now.
    Friend: See, this is why I can never tell when you're being sarcastic.
    "If ever I would stop thinking about music and politics
    I would tell you that sometimes it?s easier to desire
    and pursue the attention and admiration of 100 strangers
    than it is to accept the love and loyalty
    of those closest to me."


    "Music and Politics" by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphopricy


  24. 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


  25. 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


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