why i...

... ought to. but really, that article made me smile.

why i love my sister

that summer feeling

75 degrees. nothing like global warming to slap a smile on my unfortunate face. today is beautiful. in fact, days like this make me want to quit my job, pack up with bullet and take off. one of these days i just might. but today isn't it.

i took my regular walk towards the river this afternoon. even set the playlist to fit the weather.


just as jonathan asked if "you longed for her or for just the way you were" half way through that summer feeling, i noticed a dead bird on the ground. so i took a picture of it.

that phone call

...the one you don't want to get.

not the worst, but certainly not good. oh dear bullet, i just wish you could hold the demons down.

on death

puja asked a few of her friends to list off things they would like to do before death. here was mine:

i feel like i should explain...

1 - because you piss yourself when you die

2 - not to death. just to cause mild injury

3 - no explanation needed

4 - because i am a romantic at heart

5 - so i can beat jesus

i'd be stealing if i posted anything else, so you should really check it out if you have a moment. i'm a fan of the perverted ones.

work walks

there's something about taking a walk at work, no matter how short, that helps clear the head. i make it a habit to take a quick walk to the coffee shop in the morning, followed by a longer one down to the train bridge during lunch time. i like walking through construction areas.

lucky for me, our whole building is under construction. the first block out the door is like a maze of tools and hard hats, big trucks and piles of broken concrete along with one big, gaping hole that reaches the underbelly of advertising (also known as our basement). they've been digging the hole for weeks. it's been expanding like teenage acne, and now there's also a bunch of smaller, less noticeable holes, all around it.

this morning i stepped out and noticed that the big hole was blocked off by a series of portable metal structures bolted to the ground. so whereas i would usually take a moment to look down into the hole and see the progress made the night before, all i could do this morning was look down at the ground where i stood.



*sigh*. no hole sighting. what a disappointment.

four

number of people on crutches that passed me by on the lunch walk to one on one today. ah yes, spring is on its way.

sick

yes, i too can be a big baby sometimes.

this is rare and most of the time it leaves as soon as it arrives. mainly because i think that people who act like babies are fucking babies. and i ain't no fucking baby.

but today, i'm feeling pretty sick. while people in other cities can enjoy the coming of spring in plants blooming and birds chirping, here in minneapolis we get our second round of winter - snow, below ten degree weather, and the continuous common cold. springtime in minnesota is really still just wintertime. with a different haircut.

right now as i am writing, i can feel snot slowly moving down from my left nostril to my upper lip. i'm starting to not even care about wiping it. but i am at work, and i must.

i went to the coffee shop and they were out of vegetarian soup. so i had more coffee.

cd entry #7

seven beers.

a hot summer day.

one pink bicycle.

two bloody knees.

three vodka slushies at the gay bar.

put these things together and you get the first night i met andy larson. it was the northeast bike tour and i drank more then i could handle. i'm pretty sure that upon our introduction the first words out of my mouth were something to the tune of, "andy? as in oh andy, you came and you gave without taking, and i sent you away oh andy, andy?"

exactly. why andy did not run fast and did not run far at that point is beside me. i'm sure i would have.

it's been around three or so years and andy's been putting up with my bullshit ever since. this is evident in his paranoia of my judgment witnessed in his cd theme:

the british post punk mix, 1978-1984. 11 songs. 10 bands. such a specific collection, even i struggle to spew hate on it. (which is disappointing, because i love spewing hate on andy. not sure why this is, possibly because he is so undeserving of such treatment.)

but dammit andy. you have me stumped.

so in return, i give you this:

that's correct. a cd of music i like. a theme that, much like yours, refuses to lend itself to judgment of asshole friends. take that.

two black eyes

go here.

from soho

to mpls

cell phones can be magic

lunch deliciousness

stomach making noises. must eat food. on my work desk, a heavenly assortment awaits.

sixteen ounce cup of light roast fresh from muddy waters. check.

chocolate chip peanut crunch clif energy bar. check.

blood red orange produce number 94381. check.

(side note, if 94381 stood for numbers of the alphabet, it would read idcha, which could be rearranged and made into "i had c". c, of course, being short for cookies. lots and lots of cookies)

yummy. lunchtime deliciousness.

should my lunch items have relationships, the blood orange would be the odd man out. the cup of coffee and the clif bar are like bar regulars, both wearing familiar clothes and talking shop talk. they've seen these parts before. "this place is a mess," the clif bar says to which the cup of coffee responds softly, "i guess nothing's changed." both veterans at this whole work lunch thing, they look over at the fresh blood.
it's the blood orange's first trip here and everything is unfamiliar. i figure i'd kill the son of bitch first and end its sideline blues. so i dig in.

there are many fruits i enjoy more than the blood orange. raspberries. cherries. wild strawberries. nectarines. there are also many fruits that would rank below the blood orange. grapes. pineapples. apples. bananas. regular oranges.

i wonder if i had brought additional fruit to befriend the blood orange things would have been different for the poor sucker. maybe in a crew of its own kind it could combat the clif bar and the cup of coffee in the battle of who gets eaten first. but it's too late.

oh, yummy blood orange. maybe it was just your time to go.

cd entry #4, #5 and #6

this is my friend donarski. we used to work together. during the span of three or so years, we spent many nights together on the seventh street floor arguing about things most would rather avoid. these arguments would generally end in either one of us attacking the other in vicious, personal ways until matty would start to cry. and he cried all the time. like a little girl.

donarski eventually matured and grew out of his crying fits (or so he says) and now works elsewhere (as do i). although he repped saint paul for a while, we were able to salvage our friendship in the past few months so much so that we agreed to exchange mixed cd's.

this one was handed off to me a few weeks back, and i haven't had the chance to pass one back since. but matty beware - it's coming.

this is my friend paul. paul is an amazing writer. we met when i was interning at the walker art center where paul has been employed for some time. we used to exchange books. also, during the peak of the big museum renovation, we would stand in front of the window and watch the construction workers do work. at times, they would look up and watch us do work. this went back and forth for months. eventually we got bored and resorted to other forms of entertainment.

paul is just one of those people whose opinion i trust. if he thinks something is cool, then it probably is. if he thinks it blows, it's a piece of shit.

here's paul's list for me

and here's mine for him

and this is my friend david. i have not known david for a long time although he reminded me that we met two summer's ago at a friends' bbq. while it advertised itself as a party, the said bbq was more like a social nightmare of high school lunch. segregation at its best. there were the mpls kids and there were the saint paul kids. standing on two opposite sides of the yard, each group took their time at the grill, serving only their fellow citizens and then retreating to the back once the other group approached with their veggie burgers and corn.

according to david i was the only one that introduced myself to the saint paul kids and attempted to hang out with both teams, hence further perpetuating the stereotype of the foreign kid that really doesn't belong to either. thanks for the reminder david.

this was from him

and this was for him