I don't know if I have written about this before, but I am going to write about it now.
I have just finished watching the local NBC news and am confused and dismayed. What is offered these days to the viewing public as news is little more than the unfortunate events that have occurred in someone else's life.
The lineup of 'stories' for this evening's program were: Minivan struck by truck running red light- two dead, minivan strikes pole while driving- three killed, car spins out on toll-road- one girl ejected; drowns, new building rivals Trump's project on lake-front, and Atkins company files for bankruptcy protection.
My problem with the 'news' is that the first three stories really do not relate to anything in my life. I feel that there is some sort of perverse voyeurism at work in modern America. What possible benefit will I earn from hearing the sordid and tragic goings on of strangers lives? To me it is mere common sense to be careful when out in the world. Is there some sort of moral to be learned from these tales of woe? Obviously, if the man in the pickup-truck was some sort of crazed-serial-red-light-runner and was part of a society of such people there would be something newsworthy in the tale. As it is, however, I do not think he set out today with the goal of t-boning a minivan full of people returning from holiday. But thanks to the fine people at channel five he has now been made a shining example of something we all know we are not supposed to do. Don't run a red light, duh, got it. Mistakes were made, true, but rehashing again and again things that we have all pretty much agreed upon as rules for a polite society is not going to get us anywhere.
My anger was furthered later in the broadcast when there were two stories (about the new lakefront tower and the Atkins bankruptcy) that I would have liked to know the five Ws about. Where, exactly, was this tower going to be built? In the picture it looks to be taller than the Sears Tower, is that the case? What will it be used for? Strictly residential, or mixed use properties? How and why did the Atkins company come to this financial crisis? Has it been coming for a long time, or was it sudden?
Perhaps I have a more insatiable thirst for knowledge than most--I am, after all, on the defending championship Snowdown trivia team--but mostly I think that the people on the television news are lazy. I long to have been born in a past generation when there was no television, or at least very little. Newspaper reporters, at least in the old days, got out there and investigated the stories that they were going to write, got the facts, and put it out there for the world to read. If you just wanted to get the basic idea of a story you could read the first few paragraphs and be sated. However, if you wanted to know more you need only read further and most of your questions would be answered.
As a lit major I may have over romanticised the role of written language in our world, but the signs are everywhere that it is dying. There have been books written on the subject...books that, sadly and paradoxically, will probably not be read by the people who need to read them. I think I just long, overall, to be part of a different time. Let me explain:
Between reading the early chapters of The World According to Garp and the fashions in the new J. Crew catalog (who I am loathe to report do not produce a big and tall men's line) I can't help but think that I might have been happier growing up during the late 40s to early 60s in prep-school New England. It could just be part of a whole 'grass is greener' business, but whatever it is the appeal is intense. There is something that seems cleaner--more simple--about that time. Not to mention the style of dress was awesome in that era. Who knows. As usual I'm probably just weird...or eccentric as some have called it. Personally I think it's endearing and it should make each and every one of you love me all the more. Ha!
-A.R. Leith
"I have a message, save your generation...from killing eachother, by sleeping in."- Jawbreaker
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
thursday night is the new friday night...
Okay, first of all, I am a little bit tipsy. But that is to be expected, because thrusday is the new friday. Tonight I saw one of the most amazing live performances of my life. This will be short and sweet. I just wanted everyone to know that if they ever get the chance to see Lord Mike's dirty calypsonians they should absolutely leap at the opportunity. In addition to there being an amazing live show there were several things better. First, I may have been ruined forever by a calypso dancer. Something about the cute face and the her dancing had me in a trance. Other than that the entirety of the show was spent with two cute girls who were lots of fun to drink and dance with. So all in all the show was amazing. Plus, cake was served. If you can beat that I'll assert that your pants may be on fire. Okay, that's all for tonight. Later kids.
-A.R. Leith
-A.R. Leith
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
I love Tasha!
I don't know what else to say. I just plain love her. She is cute, and friendly, and has great teats. Two rows of magnificent teats. Now, if she would just stop shitting the floor we might have something.
Oh, wait. I DO know what to say! Some of you clowns only see fit to comment on my posts when I'm not writing enough of them down for your pleasure... What's up with that? When I ask for a little response I get nothing. That's pretty fucked up. But whatever, I just wanted everyone to know that I am not some sort of "trick pony" that you can get to do "tricks" or wear a "pony suit". But I will continue, because I like to write, and I have recently learned how to read, so I want to try it all out together. Yay!
Okay, as it has been a while since I've written anything here this could get pretty long. I will, therefore, break it down into little bitty bits for more fun and easy reading. Ready? Go!
One- There has been an alarming trend lately in the footwear industry--led by the folks over there at 'sketchers'--towards making every pair of sneakers on the market look like bicycle shoes. I've seen the ads on the television and, quite frankly, I am disturbed. There was once a time when shoes made for athletics were of some substance. (Actually, there was a time not too long before the time just mentioned when all athletic shoes were converse all stars, but we'll talk about that in a minute.) The advent of the modern 'dress sneaker' is distressing because of its tendency to make dressing down more socially acceptable. Nobody wears dress shoes anymore. Okay, that's not true; only women who care about how they look and businessmen wear dress shoes anymore. The only real problem I have with this is that it leads to people and events becoming less important-seeming. Nothing has much weight to it anymore, and that is sad. Plus, practically NOBODY--with the exception of some attractive mothers in cropped trousers--looks good in these shoes. They just seem odd-looking to me. Maybe it's the velcro, or whatever, but they just don't look like adult shoes. Not to mention how fem they make most men look. But that is a story for another day.
Two- Because we are discussing shoes and I have just been to the Warped Tour (never again, by the way) I would like to talk about punk-rock shoes. I would assume that, with the purchase of converse by the ubiquitous Nike corporation, that many of the punk-rock kids will have to switch over to the only other old school classic, the Vans Old Skools. However, kids who are concerned enough with the way they look, being into punk or not, will probably be pretty slow on the uptake and not know that their favorite everyday canvas shoe company is not owned by the darling of sweatshop globalization Nike. Fact is, no matter how much of a difference I used to think there was between the punkers and the 'regular' kids it's just not true. I can't say for sure if it ever was true, but I am inclined to think right now that it is not. Just because the look is 'different' does not mean that these kids care any less about the image they are projecting. So, it would seem that kids everywhere are just trying to find an identity, and that's fine, so long as you do it well. It is downright healthy, I think. Although it was said of me lately that I am dress very preppy. I am fine with that. I like the preppy look. I am disgusted, though, by the kids on that MTV show, 'My Super Sweet Sixteen'. They are far too materialistic, but I suppose must be excused because their behavior can be chalked up to capricious youth.
Three- It has been raining like a mofo here in Chicago for the last two days and I could not be happier about it. Not only do we need the moisture, but the change of weather is a blessing as well. In fact, one of the reasons for my decision to summer in the Windy City was because of the more variable climate. I was just in the Pacific Northwest and was severely let down to have nothing but clear blue skies for a week and a half. If I wanted that kind of weather I would have stayed in Durango. But here in the middle west we have had a banner week. We've gone from 102 and 103 degrees with 70% humidity over the weekend to torrential downpours on monday and tuesday. It truly is exhilarating and invigorating.
Four- For anybody who cares, I have decided today that I will be leaving Chicago on the 15th or 16th of August to return to a little mountain hamlet called Durango. I will be glad to be back, to say the least. I look forward to the slower pace of life and hopefully having a real job again. Kind of.
Okay, I'm tired of typing for now and will retire to my sleeping chamber. You should all hear back from me soon. Laters.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "You can sit next to me; we can talk or just kiss. You can rub my palm and say 'better than this.'"- The Lawrence Arms
Oh, wait. I DO know what to say! Some of you clowns only see fit to comment on my posts when I'm not writing enough of them down for your pleasure... What's up with that? When I ask for a little response I get nothing. That's pretty fucked up. But whatever, I just wanted everyone to know that I am not some sort of "trick pony" that you can get to do "tricks" or wear a "pony suit". But I will continue, because I like to write, and I have recently learned how to read, so I want to try it all out together. Yay!
Okay, as it has been a while since I've written anything here this could get pretty long. I will, therefore, break it down into little bitty bits for more fun and easy reading. Ready? Go!
One- There has been an alarming trend lately in the footwear industry--led by the folks over there at 'sketchers'--towards making every pair of sneakers on the market look like bicycle shoes. I've seen the ads on the television and, quite frankly, I am disturbed. There was once a time when shoes made for athletics were of some substance. (Actually, there was a time not too long before the time just mentioned when all athletic shoes were converse all stars, but we'll talk about that in a minute.) The advent of the modern 'dress sneaker' is distressing because of its tendency to make dressing down more socially acceptable. Nobody wears dress shoes anymore. Okay, that's not true; only women who care about how they look and businessmen wear dress shoes anymore. The only real problem I have with this is that it leads to people and events becoming less important-seeming. Nothing has much weight to it anymore, and that is sad. Plus, practically NOBODY--with the exception of some attractive mothers in cropped trousers--looks good in these shoes. They just seem odd-looking to me. Maybe it's the velcro, or whatever, but they just don't look like adult shoes. Not to mention how fem they make most men look. But that is a story for another day.
Two- Because we are discussing shoes and I have just been to the Warped Tour (never again, by the way) I would like to talk about punk-rock shoes. I would assume that, with the purchase of converse by the ubiquitous Nike corporation, that many of the punk-rock kids will have to switch over to the only other old school classic, the Vans Old Skools. However, kids who are concerned enough with the way they look, being into punk or not, will probably be pretty slow on the uptake and not know that their favorite everyday canvas shoe company is not owned by the darling of sweatshop globalization Nike. Fact is, no matter how much of a difference I used to think there was between the punkers and the 'regular' kids it's just not true. I can't say for sure if it ever was true, but I am inclined to think right now that it is not. Just because the look is 'different' does not mean that these kids care any less about the image they are projecting. So, it would seem that kids everywhere are just trying to find an identity, and that's fine, so long as you do it well. It is downright healthy, I think. Although it was said of me lately that I am dress very preppy. I am fine with that. I like the preppy look. I am disgusted, though, by the kids on that MTV show, 'My Super Sweet Sixteen'. They are far too materialistic, but I suppose must be excused because their behavior can be chalked up to capricious youth.
Three- It has been raining like a mofo here in Chicago for the last two days and I could not be happier about it. Not only do we need the moisture, but the change of weather is a blessing as well. In fact, one of the reasons for my decision to summer in the Windy City was because of the more variable climate. I was just in the Pacific Northwest and was severely let down to have nothing but clear blue skies for a week and a half. If I wanted that kind of weather I would have stayed in Durango. But here in the middle west we have had a banner week. We've gone from 102 and 103 degrees with 70% humidity over the weekend to torrential downpours on monday and tuesday. It truly is exhilarating and invigorating.
Four- For anybody who cares, I have decided today that I will be leaving Chicago on the 15th or 16th of August to return to a little mountain hamlet called Durango. I will be glad to be back, to say the least. I look forward to the slower pace of life and hopefully having a real job again. Kind of.
Okay, I'm tired of typing for now and will retire to my sleeping chamber. You should all hear back from me soon. Laters.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "You can sit next to me; we can talk or just kiss. You can rub my palm and say 'better than this.'"- The Lawrence Arms
Monday, July 04, 2005
Oblivion and Charlie Brown
There are Irish people in Chicago. Yep. No two ways about it. The Swedes settled Minneapolis (and as any drunken business traveler lounging at DIA can tell you--whether you want to hear it or not-- that is why so many there are so many good looking young women in that area), the Germans Milwaukee, and the Irish, Poles, and many Latins ended up in Chicago. However, my focus and my main purpose right now is to discuss the Irish.
Charlie Brown would lament by saying "Oh, good grief" where his little red headed girl is concerned. They are everywhere here, and soooo cute. Oblivion wrote a song about Charlie's crush on the little red headed girl, and it's a good one--and I know what they are singing about. Everywhere I look these days there is some pale girl with shockingly orange hair that I have trouble looking away from. I don't know what it is, but there is something captivating about redheads. I don't know if it is the fact that you know, somewhere deep down, that they are absolutely batshit-crazy, or if it's just because they are different from the majority. And I know, I know...it is wrong for me to even think about. Just think of the sickeningly pasty children such a union would produce. They would have to wear specially made suits to go out in the sun lest they burst into flames from exposure. I would not want to wish that on anybody, but still, I have a staring problem when it comes to a cute redhead, and it would seem there is nothing I can do about it.
On the subject of breeding--I think I should marry a petite, dark skinned, dark eyed, dark haired woman to try and counteract the genetics I will be contributing to the mix. I think it would be the only responsible course of action...you know, for the kids. Just think about it.
Sorry for doubling up on the posts today, but stuff is on my mind. Before I go I would like to shout-out (kids are still shouting-out, right?) to the folks at Nissan for putting skiers--rather than snowboarders--in their most recent ad for how Xtreme their Xterra SUV is. (Ha ha, Morgan, Xtreme!) Skiing is making a comeback...we hope. Okay, laters.
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- I think it is hilarious that Fall Out Boy named a song, "Tell that mick he just made my list of things to do today." I'm pretty sure it's a quote from something, but funnier out of context. Then again, I also think it's effin hilarious that the Dillinger Four named a song "Honey, I shit the hot-tub." So take all of this for what it's worth, right? (And last but not least, the word "effin"--see two sentences ago--is awesome because it reminds me of the beleaguered and flightless Puffin. I want a pet Puffin.)
Charlie Brown would lament by saying "Oh, good grief" where his little red headed girl is concerned. They are everywhere here, and soooo cute. Oblivion wrote a song about Charlie's crush on the little red headed girl, and it's a good one--and I know what they are singing about. Everywhere I look these days there is some pale girl with shockingly orange hair that I have trouble looking away from. I don't know what it is, but there is something captivating about redheads. I don't know if it is the fact that you know, somewhere deep down, that they are absolutely batshit-crazy, or if it's just because they are different from the majority. And I know, I know...it is wrong for me to even think about. Just think of the sickeningly pasty children such a union would produce. They would have to wear specially made suits to go out in the sun lest they burst into flames from exposure. I would not want to wish that on anybody, but still, I have a staring problem when it comes to a cute redhead, and it would seem there is nothing I can do about it.
On the subject of breeding--I think I should marry a petite, dark skinned, dark eyed, dark haired woman to try and counteract the genetics I will be contributing to the mix. I think it would be the only responsible course of action...you know, for the kids. Just think about it.
Sorry for doubling up on the posts today, but stuff is on my mind. Before I go I would like to shout-out (kids are still shouting-out, right?) to the folks at Nissan for putting skiers--rather than snowboarders--in their most recent ad for how Xtreme their Xterra SUV is. (Ha ha, Morgan, Xtreme!) Skiing is making a comeback...we hope. Okay, laters.
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- I think it is hilarious that Fall Out Boy named a song, "Tell that mick he just made my list of things to do today." I'm pretty sure it's a quote from something, but funnier out of context. Then again, I also think it's effin hilarious that the Dillinger Four named a song "Honey, I shit the hot-tub." So take all of this for what it's worth, right? (And last but not least, the word "effin"--see two sentences ago--is awesome because it reminds me of the beleaguered and flightless Puffin. I want a pet Puffin.)
Liar, Liar...
The question has been posed, "What does one young mand need with so many pairs of shoes?"
The answer, it would seem, is that those shoes do not go with these pants. There is a problem of leg opening, coupled with breakage and overall length, that makes it necessary for different styles and sizes of shoes to be purchased in order that a pair of pants is properly accentuated. If all of these ideas are observed and, indeed, followed the result should be the maximum flattery for the wearer. Everyone wants to look good in their trousers. Anyone who says that they have no such desire is a liar; whose pants are probably in danger of catching on fire anyway.
While we are on the subject: in the event of a pants related fire I would strongly suggest against this dirty "rolling-around-on-the-ground" business that your Average-Joe-Fireman would tout. Instead the steps to be followed are: 1) Have a little chat with yourself. Ask, "how much does this really hurt?" Does the prospect of the pain--or the cessation of the pain--warrant getting dirty? If the answer is "yes" go directly to the last step. 2) Attempt to find some sort of non-flammable liquid with which to douse your trousers. Ideally, you could actually find a fire extinguisher that would work nicely (as its name would predict). 3) If no such liquid or foam retardant is not readily available, or forthcoming in the foreseeable future, you should quickly remove your pants. The reasons for this bold move are threefold a. this will help limit damage to your epidermis... b. "You can learn a lot by taking your pants off." c. "If you don't take your pants off, you'll never know if she wants to take her pants off..." 4) If all else fails I suppose it would be wise to give in to the business of mucking about on the ground to put the fire out, but you might want to explore some other avenues on your own first.
I know all of this information is truly thrilling and worthwhile to you, and that is why I write it here. However, the real reason I signed in today was to tell you all about something that happened a couple of nights ago. After having consumed a good deal of malt liquor I awoke to find myself in the bed of a hefty stranger. Anyway, long story short; I may be a father in the next 8-10 mon... wait a second, that's not the story I was going to tell. That's not even a very good story at all. Nobody wants to hear about that.
Two nights ago I attended a rock 'n' roll show at Bottom Lounge here in Chicago, IL. Alright, so three of the five bands were pretty miserable. The other two were FUCKING AMAZING. (If I knew how to underline things on this infernal machine, I would have done that too) I was taken back to a time when you could watch an entire set by a band and just be blown away by the music, the stage presence, the crowd response...everything.
I don't know if anybody who reads this blog is now, or ever was, into pop-punk, but it has been so long since I saw a good show of that variety that I had to search my memory long and hard, and only came up with two truly good examples. The two that came to mind were Chixdiggit at the Fireside Bowl (circa 2000/2001), and The Queers, Mr. T. Experience, and John Cougar Concentration Camp (a year or two earlier). To see pop-punk at its finest is to be faced with a wall of sound coming from a band who loves the music, and loves to entertain. (To clarify, we are not talking about your Blink 182, Simple Plan, Yellowcard variety punky-corporate-pop, no, we're talking about the Ramones-style snotty-gritty-three-chord-pop-punk.) The two bands that rocked the Hizze the other night were Teenage Bottlerocket (members of the Lillingtons) and The Methadones (members of Screeching Weasel, Squirtgun, The Queers).
When Teenage Bottlerocket opened up the show I was taken back to my High School days. There is something about a four man setup of Bass, Drums, and Two Guitars that just makes things seem faster and louder. It doesn't hurt when the band opens their set with everybody but the drummer standing in the rocker splits at the front of the stage, and just rocking the fuck out. Harmonies and gang vocals abound and the fists are pumping in the crowd. Everyone is as one on the floor and on the stage. A good time was had by all, I can assure you. It was so loud, and so good. It's hard to explain, so all I can say is try and see one of the following bands if you can in the near future and on a stage with a reputable sound man, and you won't be dissapointed:
Screeching Weasel
The Methadones
The Queers
The Mr. T Experience
Teenage Bottlerocket
The Riverdales
That's all I can think of right now that are still around in some form or another, I think. But yeah, no frills, no gimmicks, no bullshit. Just straight forward rock, and a good time.
I believe that is all I feel like writing today. Happy holiday, and remember to try not to fuck things up as much as our predecessors have. Thank you, and goodnight.
-A.R. Leith
The answer, it would seem, is that those shoes do not go with these pants. There is a problem of leg opening, coupled with breakage and overall length, that makes it necessary for different styles and sizes of shoes to be purchased in order that a pair of pants is properly accentuated. If all of these ideas are observed and, indeed, followed the result should be the maximum flattery for the wearer. Everyone wants to look good in their trousers. Anyone who says that they have no such desire is a liar; whose pants are probably in danger of catching on fire anyway.
While we are on the subject: in the event of a pants related fire I would strongly suggest against this dirty "rolling-around-on-the-ground" business that your Average-Joe-Fireman would tout. Instead the steps to be followed are: 1) Have a little chat with yourself. Ask, "how much does this really hurt?" Does the prospect of the pain--or the cessation of the pain--warrant getting dirty? If the answer is "yes" go directly to the last step. 2) Attempt to find some sort of non-flammable liquid with which to douse your trousers. Ideally, you could actually find a fire extinguisher that would work nicely (as its name would predict). 3) If no such liquid or foam retardant is not readily available, or forthcoming in the foreseeable future, you should quickly remove your pants. The reasons for this bold move are threefold a. this will help limit damage to your epidermis... b. "You can learn a lot by taking your pants off." c. "If you don't take your pants off, you'll never know if she wants to take her pants off..." 4) If all else fails I suppose it would be wise to give in to the business of mucking about on the ground to put the fire out, but you might want to explore some other avenues on your own first.
I know all of this information is truly thrilling and worthwhile to you, and that is why I write it here. However, the real reason I signed in today was to tell you all about something that happened a couple of nights ago. After having consumed a good deal of malt liquor I awoke to find myself in the bed of a hefty stranger. Anyway, long story short; I may be a father in the next 8-10 mon... wait a second, that's not the story I was going to tell. That's not even a very good story at all. Nobody wants to hear about that.
Two nights ago I attended a rock 'n' roll show at Bottom Lounge here in Chicago, IL. Alright, so three of the five bands were pretty miserable. The other two were FUCKING AMAZING. (If I knew how to underline things on this infernal machine, I would have done that too) I was taken back to a time when you could watch an entire set by a band and just be blown away by the music, the stage presence, the crowd response...everything.
I don't know if anybody who reads this blog is now, or ever was, into pop-punk, but it has been so long since I saw a good show of that variety that I had to search my memory long and hard, and only came up with two truly good examples. The two that came to mind were Chixdiggit at the Fireside Bowl (circa 2000/2001), and The Queers, Mr. T. Experience, and John Cougar Concentration Camp (a year or two earlier). To see pop-punk at its finest is to be faced with a wall of sound coming from a band who loves the music, and loves to entertain. (To clarify, we are not talking about your Blink 182, Simple Plan, Yellowcard variety punky-corporate-pop, no, we're talking about the Ramones-style snotty-gritty-three-chord-pop-punk.) The two bands that rocked the Hizze the other night were Teenage Bottlerocket (members of the Lillingtons) and The Methadones (members of Screeching Weasel, Squirtgun, The Queers).
When Teenage Bottlerocket opened up the show I was taken back to my High School days. There is something about a four man setup of Bass, Drums, and Two Guitars that just makes things seem faster and louder. It doesn't hurt when the band opens their set with everybody but the drummer standing in the rocker splits at the front of the stage, and just rocking the fuck out. Harmonies and gang vocals abound and the fists are pumping in the crowd. Everyone is as one on the floor and on the stage. A good time was had by all, I can assure you. It was so loud, and so good. It's hard to explain, so all I can say is try and see one of the following bands if you can in the near future and on a stage with a reputable sound man, and you won't be dissapointed:
Screeching Weasel
The Methadones
The Queers
The Mr. T Experience
Teenage Bottlerocket
The Riverdales
That's all I can think of right now that are still around in some form or another, I think. But yeah, no frills, no gimmicks, no bullshit. Just straight forward rock, and a good time.
I believe that is all I feel like writing today. Happy holiday, and remember to try not to fuck things up as much as our predecessors have. Thank you, and goodnight.
-A.R. Leith
Monday, June 27, 2005
Where's the Beef?
There are things about us--about all of us--that cannot be hidden, no matter how hard we try. There is, perhaps, some sort of natural law that provides that deviation from instinctual behavior will end badly. It can be seen in the olde timey motto, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when at first we practice to deceive." And, as luck would have it, that statement always has been, will, and should be true.
I know that I have stated in earlier posts just how important it is to actually pay attention to the world around you on a daily basis; both in the sense that "if you are not outraged, you are not paying attention" and in the sense that you may miss the broader trends and ideas that a myopic attitude would generally tune out. Case in point, there have been a lot of ideas bouncing in my skull (which is surprisingly thick but soft at the same time) lately that would lead one to make broad generalizations which can then be honed into finer--if only more focused--ideas. Deception, fronts, and any other misleading representation of one's self are nearly always misguided and regrettable, and yet seem omnipresent in today's society.
Being an avid people watcher I took lunch in the food court of a shopping mall today. It would seem that summer is upon us, because there was no lack of school age children whiling away their time in the air conditioned comfort of the local mall. A transgression that may be pardoned by the fact that the temperature nearly reached the century mark today here in the lovely suburbs of Chicago. Nonetheless, I was taken by the wide variety of outfits that were being sported in an effort by the masses to be "different". I am an absolute backer of the idea that anyone can wear anything that they want, so long as the clothing is age and body appropriate and pulled off with aplomb. However, I think the lengths being taken by some young people today to prove how unique they are simply looks exhausting. Perhaps it is because I feel that somewhere, deep down in my insides, I feel that there is an 84 year old grouch trying to get out. Or maybe it is my long-standing love of naps, but I just cannot imagine taking all the time to first think up some of these outfits, and then execute the purchase, organization, and dressing necessary to go out in public. I would be remiss if I was to put these people down for their habits. To dismiss them as a lesser person would be perfunctory and unfair seeing as they are quite possibly very nice, intelligent people. My argument is only that people should dress comfortably in styles that can transfer with ease through many social situations, because you never know when hanging-out-with-friends can turn into running-into-friend's-grandparents, who will be polite and tell you that you manner of dress is "unique" or "fun" but will secretly be wondering how your parents could have failed so miserably in your upbringing. Okay, I know this one is pretty much a dead horse, so I'll say only two more quick things about it. 1) When you try too hard for a "look" when dressing yourself, it usually shows. 2) Big ups to my cousin Molly for rockin' the popped-polo-collar and knowing that "if you're going to look good you have to be at least a little bit uncomfortable" is the first rule of fashion. (P.S.- I may not always look good, but I generally THINK I look good, which is often enough.)
The second part of this post is from an amalgamation of four separate things that happened recently, that crystallized in my mind the ideas that will be laid out to you, dear reader, here today. From a conversation at lunch today with a female co-worker, to the casual mention of a recent DVD release, to an article read today while lounging, to an exchange at a smoky basement bar this saturday past the idea of "faking-it" has come to the fore of my mind.
First I will tackle the barrom chat and the magazine article. I am a hairy man. I have come to terms with this. Anyone who has seen me without a shirt on can attest that I'd stand a good chance if lost in the arctic with only a pair of flannel P.J. bottoms. Of course, this is not to say that I'm happy that I am wooly, but rather that I have accepted it. It is part of my life. I didn't ask to get hair everywhere, but it was deemed that it should be so, and here I am. Until recently my prevailing thought on the subject was "ewww, gross", but recent shifts in attitudes--mostly mine--have lead me to think of it in a different light. This follicle situation is not a voluntary position I am in. Were it left up to me it would just disappear. And, of course, there are many ways to see that happen these days, I had to weigh those options against the fact that I shouldn't not have to endure the pain and financial loss necessary to achieve a smooth back simply to look like a pretty boy. I am charming, fun, smart, and witty and if a girl is going to discount me because of some unfortunate hair growth then it is probably best that I recognize that she is not the kind of woman I am in the market for anyway, right? Right. Some might call "sour grapes" on this kind of attitude and that is fine with me. Those are most likely those are the people who have just been spurned due to their own shallowness. That being said, a young woman reached down the back of my shirt and felt my back hair in a bar the other night. Whether she was disgusted or not is unknown to me, because the acted with grace and tact by not freaking out one way or the other. The world needs more people like that. As a final note on this bit here, I'll ask again for comments to be posted here--this time by the ladies only--stating your opinions on back hair, or hair in general, being a dealbreaker. Do not let anything I have said sway you, be honest and open, because life is more fun that way. Thanx.
The other part of being yourself that has me thinking today is the idea of acting differently than you instinctively would in any given situation. Obviously there are exceptions to this idea, such as farting at black-tie affairs, and really anything where manners should come first, but people should also try to represent themselves as true to form as they can in every day life, I think. While dining today with a female co-worker the subject of the behavior of young men came up. In asking my advice it was related that, having insisted upon this young woman taking his phone number he failed to return the ensuing call. I tried to offer advice, but the best I could do was suggest the way that I would find most humorous if accosted by a woman whom I had failed to call back. It occurred to me that this would be the natural response from the kind of girl I find interesting, but it might not be my friends automatic way of handling things. As a clarification, the way I told her to approach the young man was to say "Way to call me back, DICK!", an answer that I would find charming in its roughness, but perhaps would not work on other men. The point being that sometimes suggestions do not offer answers, and that people are better of going with their own true-blue inclinations rather than what others suggest or what they think someone else would expect. Honesty IS the best policy, so DON'T have a different act for different groups of friends or acquaintances but DO know how to handle yourself in myriad social situations--this includes being polite and charming, no matter what.
Okay, I think that's all for now. I'm really sleepy, but everybody should really get back to me on that back-hair thing. I really do want to know, and it is as easy as clicking on the little comment button at the bottom of this post. It won't take a second, and you'll barely feel a thing.
-A.R. Leith
Suggestions for today: If anybody finds themselves with a little spare time and they don't want to spend it helping me apply depillatory cream to my back they should check out these two essays that I have read lately that made me laugh out loud. The first one is by David Sedaris and is (I think) called "Six to Eight Black Men", and the other is by Dave Eggers called "Your Mother and I". Both are good, and funny, so turn off the goddamn TV for an hour and read something. Thank you, and goodnight.
I know that I have stated in earlier posts just how important it is to actually pay attention to the world around you on a daily basis; both in the sense that "if you are not outraged, you are not paying attention" and in the sense that you may miss the broader trends and ideas that a myopic attitude would generally tune out. Case in point, there have been a lot of ideas bouncing in my skull (which is surprisingly thick but soft at the same time) lately that would lead one to make broad generalizations which can then be honed into finer--if only more focused--ideas. Deception, fronts, and any other misleading representation of one's self are nearly always misguided and regrettable, and yet seem omnipresent in today's society.
Being an avid people watcher I took lunch in the food court of a shopping mall today. It would seem that summer is upon us, because there was no lack of school age children whiling away their time in the air conditioned comfort of the local mall. A transgression that may be pardoned by the fact that the temperature nearly reached the century mark today here in the lovely suburbs of Chicago. Nonetheless, I was taken by the wide variety of outfits that were being sported in an effort by the masses to be "different". I am an absolute backer of the idea that anyone can wear anything that they want, so long as the clothing is age and body appropriate and pulled off with aplomb. However, I think the lengths being taken by some young people today to prove how unique they are simply looks exhausting. Perhaps it is because I feel that somewhere, deep down in my insides, I feel that there is an 84 year old grouch trying to get out. Or maybe it is my long-standing love of naps, but I just cannot imagine taking all the time to first think up some of these outfits, and then execute the purchase, organization, and dressing necessary to go out in public. I would be remiss if I was to put these people down for their habits. To dismiss them as a lesser person would be perfunctory and unfair seeing as they are quite possibly very nice, intelligent people. My argument is only that people should dress comfortably in styles that can transfer with ease through many social situations, because you never know when hanging-out-with-friends can turn into running-into-friend's-grandparents, who will be polite and tell you that you manner of dress is "unique" or "fun" but will secretly be wondering how your parents could have failed so miserably in your upbringing. Okay, I know this one is pretty much a dead horse, so I'll say only two more quick things about it. 1) When you try too hard for a "look" when dressing yourself, it usually shows. 2) Big ups to my cousin Molly for rockin' the popped-polo-collar and knowing that "if you're going to look good you have to be at least a little bit uncomfortable" is the first rule of fashion. (P.S.- I may not always look good, but I generally THINK I look good, which is often enough.)
The second part of this post is from an amalgamation of four separate things that happened recently, that crystallized in my mind the ideas that will be laid out to you, dear reader, here today. From a conversation at lunch today with a female co-worker, to the casual mention of a recent DVD release, to an article read today while lounging, to an exchange at a smoky basement bar this saturday past the idea of "faking-it" has come to the fore of my mind.
First I will tackle the barrom chat and the magazine article. I am a hairy man. I have come to terms with this. Anyone who has seen me without a shirt on can attest that I'd stand a good chance if lost in the arctic with only a pair of flannel P.J. bottoms. Of course, this is not to say that I'm happy that I am wooly, but rather that I have accepted it. It is part of my life. I didn't ask to get hair everywhere, but it was deemed that it should be so, and here I am. Until recently my prevailing thought on the subject was "ewww, gross", but recent shifts in attitudes--mostly mine--have lead me to think of it in a different light. This follicle situation is not a voluntary position I am in. Were it left up to me it would just disappear. And, of course, there are many ways to see that happen these days, I had to weigh those options against the fact that I shouldn't not have to endure the pain and financial loss necessary to achieve a smooth back simply to look like a pretty boy. I am charming, fun, smart, and witty and if a girl is going to discount me because of some unfortunate hair growth then it is probably best that I recognize that she is not the kind of woman I am in the market for anyway, right? Right. Some might call "sour grapes" on this kind of attitude and that is fine with me. Those are most likely those are the people who have just been spurned due to their own shallowness. That being said, a young woman reached down the back of my shirt and felt my back hair in a bar the other night. Whether she was disgusted or not is unknown to me, because the acted with grace and tact by not freaking out one way or the other. The world needs more people like that. As a final note on this bit here, I'll ask again for comments to be posted here--this time by the ladies only--stating your opinions on back hair, or hair in general, being a dealbreaker. Do not let anything I have said sway you, be honest and open, because life is more fun that way. Thanx.
The other part of being yourself that has me thinking today is the idea of acting differently than you instinctively would in any given situation. Obviously there are exceptions to this idea, such as farting at black-tie affairs, and really anything where manners should come first, but people should also try to represent themselves as true to form as they can in every day life, I think. While dining today with a female co-worker the subject of the behavior of young men came up. In asking my advice it was related that, having insisted upon this young woman taking his phone number he failed to return the ensuing call. I tried to offer advice, but the best I could do was suggest the way that I would find most humorous if accosted by a woman whom I had failed to call back. It occurred to me that this would be the natural response from the kind of girl I find interesting, but it might not be my friends automatic way of handling things. As a clarification, the way I told her to approach the young man was to say "Way to call me back, DICK!", an answer that I would find charming in its roughness, but perhaps would not work on other men. The point being that sometimes suggestions do not offer answers, and that people are better of going with their own true-blue inclinations rather than what others suggest or what they think someone else would expect. Honesty IS the best policy, so DON'T have a different act for different groups of friends or acquaintances but DO know how to handle yourself in myriad social situations--this includes being polite and charming, no matter what.
Okay, I think that's all for now. I'm really sleepy, but everybody should really get back to me on that back-hair thing. I really do want to know, and it is as easy as clicking on the little comment button at the bottom of this post. It won't take a second, and you'll barely feel a thing.
-A.R. Leith
Suggestions for today: If anybody finds themselves with a little spare time and they don't want to spend it helping me apply depillatory cream to my back they should check out these two essays that I have read lately that made me laugh out loud. The first one is by David Sedaris and is (I think) called "Six to Eight Black Men", and the other is by Dave Eggers called "Your Mother and I". Both are good, and funny, so turn off the goddamn TV for an hour and read something. Thank you, and goodnight.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
There is no way I am having "Sponge Bob" in the house of GOD!
Did you ever notice how sometimes life seems just a little bit brighter on mornings when you are hung-over? Some of the brightness is for more obvious reasons, like you forgot your sunglasses, and there is a giant ball of burning gas hanging in the sky, intent on doing you harm in a variety of ways. But there are other, more subtle, sorts of fun that come as pleasant surprises when your brain takes a little time for itself, and these will be enumerated here:
1. I woke up this morning...in a living room...on a couch...with a cute girl on the adjacent loveseat. I am in no way intoning that anything "sordid" happened between this lovely young lady and me, but rather stating that it is always nice to wake up in the same room with attractive people. Simple as that. It is especially helpful when you have recently consumed large quantities of malt liquor. Basically, my brain hurts this morning.
2. As I was gingerly making my way to the red-line this morning I happened upon a father and two small children standing in the doorway to their townhome. Ordinarily this situation would not have been all that amusing, except that the little boy in this family DID NOT want to go to church. He was trying to bring toys with him. A stance that I completely understand, because church is boring. It is like those classes where they have you read every page of the textbook and then lecture directly-out-of-the-textbook. Those classes are not fun. At any rate, the debate culminated with the father beginning to count (Does anybody else remember counting? That used to put the fear in me something fierce when I was a youngster.) and declaring "There is no way I am having 'sponge bob' in the house of god!" Which was made even more amusing by his thick Chicago accent.
3. McMotherfuckingGriddles! (Mike, buddy, you wanna stop?) I had some time to kill in Union Station this morning, and decided to indulge in the bit of bowel-flushing sin that is McDonald's breakfast. Feeling daring and more than a little loopey after my morning stroll in the summer sun I opted for the number nine breakfast...baconeggandcheese McGriddles, hashbrowns, OJ. Now, I have long been opposed to the McGriddles--mostly based on the seemingly arbitrary pluralization--and I figured that if you are going to slander something on a near daily basis you ought to at least "know your enemy" as they say. Needless to say, I feel dirty. Like I might need a long bath and absolution from a priest to get over my morning meal. Fuckingsyrupflavoredminipancakesandwich! Whoever invented this little gem should be stoned. (And not in the "hey man you want to play frisbee" sense, more in the "you have just blasphemed in early C.E. Rome" sense.) Just like I believe that catty women are the reason that a lot of young women hate themselves, and each other--well, that and shallow controlling men, but men like that are douche bags anyway--I similarly believe that McGriddles and their ilk are the reason that so many Americans are grotesquely overweight. I hate fat people. And being one, that takes a good dose of self-loathing to admit, but it's true. It is a lifestyle bred of laziness, that people should not be let off the hook for, being fat is not a disease any more than any other voluntary activity. Generally these activities are the path of least resistance, but that is hooey. That's right, hooey!
4. This is the last one--I promise. Today is gay pride parade day here in the Windy City and, while I didn't go to the parade itself per se, I did get to see some of the people who would be there as they were getting off the train this morning on their way to the festivities. So, it was a parade of sorts for me. I think it is kind of odd that I immensely enjoy watching people celebrate, but rarely enjoy celebrating myself. But it did a lad good to see all the people in full party mode this morning. Although, I don't know that so many people should have been so drunk at 10 in the morning. I think that having to set an alarm to start drinking might be one of the early signs that "you have a problem". Unless, of course, it is the last day of the ski season...so I guess everyone has their "thing".
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- Most "peasant shirts" look like maternity wear on almost all women, so take it easy ladies, I don't care what any of the major labels are doing, it's just a bad idea. But that's just one man's opinion (if you don't count Eric, Suzanne, and some other people, who seem to share the same opinion.) Thank you, and goodnight.
1. I woke up this morning...in a living room...on a couch...with a cute girl on the adjacent loveseat. I am in no way intoning that anything "sordid" happened between this lovely young lady and me, but rather stating that it is always nice to wake up in the same room with attractive people. Simple as that. It is especially helpful when you have recently consumed large quantities of malt liquor. Basically, my brain hurts this morning.
2. As I was gingerly making my way to the red-line this morning I happened upon a father and two small children standing in the doorway to their townhome. Ordinarily this situation would not have been all that amusing, except that the little boy in this family DID NOT want to go to church. He was trying to bring toys with him. A stance that I completely understand, because church is boring. It is like those classes where they have you read every page of the textbook and then lecture directly-out-of-the-textbook. Those classes are not fun. At any rate, the debate culminated with the father beginning to count (Does anybody else remember counting? That used to put the fear in me something fierce when I was a youngster.) and declaring "There is no way I am having 'sponge bob' in the house of god!" Which was made even more amusing by his thick Chicago accent.
3. McMotherfuckingGriddles! (Mike, buddy, you wanna stop?) I had some time to kill in Union Station this morning, and decided to indulge in the bit of bowel-flushing sin that is McDonald's breakfast. Feeling daring and more than a little loopey after my morning stroll in the summer sun I opted for the number nine breakfast...baconeggandcheese McGriddles, hashbrowns, OJ. Now, I have long been opposed to the McGriddles--mostly based on the seemingly arbitrary pluralization--and I figured that if you are going to slander something on a near daily basis you ought to at least "know your enemy" as they say. Needless to say, I feel dirty. Like I might need a long bath and absolution from a priest to get over my morning meal. Fuckingsyrupflavoredminipancakesandwich! Whoever invented this little gem should be stoned. (And not in the "hey man you want to play frisbee" sense, more in the "you have just blasphemed in early C.E. Rome" sense.) Just like I believe that catty women are the reason that a lot of young women hate themselves, and each other--well, that and shallow controlling men, but men like that are douche bags anyway--I similarly believe that McGriddles and their ilk are the reason that so many Americans are grotesquely overweight. I hate fat people. And being one, that takes a good dose of self-loathing to admit, but it's true. It is a lifestyle bred of laziness, that people should not be let off the hook for, being fat is not a disease any more than any other voluntary activity. Generally these activities are the path of least resistance, but that is hooey. That's right, hooey!
4. This is the last one--I promise. Today is gay pride parade day here in the Windy City and, while I didn't go to the parade itself per se, I did get to see some of the people who would be there as they were getting off the train this morning on their way to the festivities. So, it was a parade of sorts for me. I think it is kind of odd that I immensely enjoy watching people celebrate, but rarely enjoy celebrating myself. But it did a lad good to see all the people in full party mode this morning. Although, I don't know that so many people should have been so drunk at 10 in the morning. I think that having to set an alarm to start drinking might be one of the early signs that "you have a problem". Unless, of course, it is the last day of the ski season...so I guess everyone has their "thing".
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- Most "peasant shirts" look like maternity wear on almost all women, so take it easy ladies, I don't care what any of the major labels are doing, it's just a bad idea. But that's just one man's opinion (if you don't count Eric, Suzanne, and some other people, who seem to share the same opinion.) Thank you, and goodnight.
Friday, June 24, 2005
In Addition
Apparently my mother got wind of the subject of today's earlier blog entry and wanted everyone to know that she, too, had a prodigeous day on the procelain. I don't know if people are going to be sad or happy about this. Most likely the emotions will be disgust, apathy, or pity, but whatever. I just want to say that sometimes it is good to go out for the evening with your family and have a good session of coctails. We only went to four bars and one house tonight, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.
Also I would like to mention that the temperature has crested the mid-nineties here this week, and I have had to re-incarnate a long lost tradition. Living in the "high desert" and the mountains has lead to a very low moisture lifestyle for me, where lotion is a daily application. However, being in the middle west--with it's infamous humidity--I was forced to talc up this afternoon. It is really a wonderful thing that everyone should try if they are ever faced with humid conditions in their life. It gives everything a much more loose and freewheeling atmosphere, and I think more ladies were checking me out tonight than ever before. Okay, ta ta.
-A.R. Leith
Also I would like to mention that the temperature has crested the mid-nineties here this week, and I have had to re-incarnate a long lost tradition. Living in the "high desert" and the mountains has lead to a very low moisture lifestyle for me, where lotion is a daily application. However, being in the middle west--with it's infamous humidity--I was forced to talc up this afternoon. It is really a wonderful thing that everyone should try if they are ever faced with humid conditions in their life. It gives everything a much more loose and freewheeling atmosphere, and I think more ladies were checking me out tonight than ever before. Okay, ta ta.
-A.R. Leith
My Buttocks; Supple They Are Not...
Everybody poops. In fact, I think there is even a book by that title. But the fact is that I had to take a deuce this morning. That fact, taken on its own, is no great shakes I assure you. However, I had been a little backed up lately--a situation that I feel contributed to my recent bout of lower back pain. So, here's the recipe that always helps me in this situation:
1- 20oz. Cafe Mocha (double espresso)
2- Packets of instant oatmeal (cooked and stirred)
1- Qt of water
Mix all of these ingredients liberally in your stomach. But be sure you don't have plans for an hour or so afterwards, unless you don't concern yourself with feeling shame when defecating in your trousers. There is a bubbling sensation and everything is ready. Find yourself a sanitary porcelain mount, and go to town. Be sure to have plenty of two-ply, reading material, and a shower ready. Ta-Da!
Okay, that was kind of gross. Wasn't that gross? I think that was gross. I can't believe we just talked about it. Actually, to be fair I can absolutely believe that I typed it, but I cannot believe that YOU read it. What are you, some kind of fecalpheliac?
So, the real reason that I felt like writing today came to me when I was done with all that ugly business. I was attempting to re-assemble my outfit (which is stunning, today, by the way) and my short-pants were not cooperating. I would position them above my backside, and then quickly try to button them at the front. However, gravity and my near complete lack of a glutius conspired against me, to the point that it tood several tries before I was able to fasten the waistband.
My problem was first brought to my attention when I was pounced upon from behind in a dark concert hall by a long-time friend who was able to recognize me because, as she opined, I "have no butt". I don't really think that is a fair assessment, because I certainly have the proper muscles and there is not a simple void where the butt should be. My gluts are just on the smallish side. For this, I blame my parents. Genetics are everything in becoming a well rounded individual with a fabulously think back-side. My parents have given me everything I needed to become the man of the nineties that I am today, save for a luscious money maker. I do not really lament this, but at times it does make it uncomfortable to sit for extended periods.
I think that is all for now, but I will leave you with a list of things to think about:
1. I would make-out with Lisa Bonet (Circa The Cosby Show)
2. Artificial banana flavoring makes my skin crawl. I'm serious, it makes me want to go out and kill at night.
3. When I grow up I want to be a fire truck.
4. I want everyone who reads this to comment with a simple yes, or no, as to whether they would read a book if I wrote it, and somehow got it published. You know, just a collection of essays about everyday life. That would be fun, I think. So, please, comment.
5. Is it wrong that lately I find myself attracted to some women who are a decade my seniors?
-A.R. Leith
1- 20oz. Cafe Mocha (double espresso)
2- Packets of instant oatmeal (cooked and stirred)
1- Qt of water
Mix all of these ingredients liberally in your stomach. But be sure you don't have plans for an hour or so afterwards, unless you don't concern yourself with feeling shame when defecating in your trousers. There is a bubbling sensation and everything is ready. Find yourself a sanitary porcelain mount, and go to town. Be sure to have plenty of two-ply, reading material, and a shower ready. Ta-Da!
Okay, that was kind of gross. Wasn't that gross? I think that was gross. I can't believe we just talked about it. Actually, to be fair I can absolutely believe that I typed it, but I cannot believe that YOU read it. What are you, some kind of fecalpheliac?
So, the real reason that I felt like writing today came to me when I was done with all that ugly business. I was attempting to re-assemble my outfit (which is stunning, today, by the way) and my short-pants were not cooperating. I would position them above my backside, and then quickly try to button them at the front. However, gravity and my near complete lack of a glutius conspired against me, to the point that it tood several tries before I was able to fasten the waistband.
My problem was first brought to my attention when I was pounced upon from behind in a dark concert hall by a long-time friend who was able to recognize me because, as she opined, I "have no butt". I don't really think that is a fair assessment, because I certainly have the proper muscles and there is not a simple void where the butt should be. My gluts are just on the smallish side. For this, I blame my parents. Genetics are everything in becoming a well rounded individual with a fabulously think back-side. My parents have given me everything I needed to become the man of the nineties that I am today, save for a luscious money maker. I do not really lament this, but at times it does make it uncomfortable to sit for extended periods.
I think that is all for now, but I will leave you with a list of things to think about:
1. I would make-out with Lisa Bonet (Circa The Cosby Show)
2. Artificial banana flavoring makes my skin crawl. I'm serious, it makes me want to go out and kill at night.
3. When I grow up I want to be a fire truck.
4. I want everyone who reads this to comment with a simple yes, or no, as to whether they would read a book if I wrote it, and somehow got it published. You know, just a collection of essays about everyday life. That would be fun, I think. So, please, comment.
5. Is it wrong that lately I find myself attracted to some women who are a decade my seniors?
-A.R. Leith
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
No Small Wonder?
As the judge would say, "Well, I was able to sit up and take nourishment today, so that's good." That being said I think the way these kids are going today is right down the toidy. I'm serious goddamnit, don't laugh!
Currently I am living on a block where there are no less than 15 kids at or below high school age. Now, in and of itself there is no problem with this--you know how the trends go with swinging age demographics in various neighborhoods--the kids are just fine as living breathing organisms. The first problem is that I am pretty sure that these kids are not getting enough sleep. I sleep...I think it is a well known fact by now that I am a man who enjoys a nap. The problem is that these kids, these lovable skamps, they DO NOT SLEEP! Eight in the morning is evidently time to run around screaming and jumping through sprinklers and whatnot. Then at nine or so I think they give up the auspices of playing and just stand below my bedroom window and yell a lot. You would not believe the vocabulary on these youngsters...like sailors they are. It's Ef this, and GD that. They're adorable, but terribly blasphemous. No one can take the lords name in vein quite like the youngest of the bunch who recently asserted that "with god as his witness" he was going to "fornicate" his older brother "with an iron rod to within an inch of his life." Touching, really.
My only solace is that the catholic gradeschool behind me is out for the summer and the all afternoon kickball games have come to an end. Naptime is safe, for the time being. I'm sure you are all pretty happy about that. I know I am.
Aaaaanyway, on to the reason for this here entry being written-
(Does it bother anyone that I used "this here" to describe the entry being written? Is it too colloquial?) (In addition to that, and recognizing the impropriety of immediately sequential parenthetical side-bars, I just got a whiff of myself and I friggin reek. My underarms have gone somewhere south of fresh, and that is not a happy time. I know nobody should really care about that--except maybe Kristen, for the obvious and previously discussed reasons--but I wanted to put everyone in the same frame of mind that I have been enjoying this morning. Namely, underslept, scared for the future, and a little stinky.) (Oh my, I got really far off track there, didn't I? I'll try harder to stay focused in the next paragraph, I promise.)
Okay, the reason I am scared for the future of america is thus: I turned on the television to some program on the Nickelodeon called "Lazy Town". The reason I titled this entry "No Small Wonder" is because I was feeling nostalgic for the good old days when there was good wholesome programming about families who adopt little girl robots, from whom we could all learn a lesson about innocence, caring, and understanding--and sometimes cheating at little league (but that is neither here nor there). Her name was Vicky, and she wore a little red dress. For many of us she was the first practical proof that Artificial Intelligence was not just some far fetched dream. That Haley Joel Osmet (sp?) is just a johnny-come-lately, and did his best work in a touching movie about senior citizens in their declining years and a pet lion. Back in my day we had Sesame Street, and I'm not talking about this borderline brain damaged Street of the modern era where they try and get kids to eat cheese and veggies by having a bilingual man and a red sock puppet (who by all accounts seems to suffer from adult infantilism). I'm talking about back-in-the-day when we had Guy Smiley, and the Count. The Motherfucking Count! The Count was pretty much the Sam Jackson of our youth and all he did was count things. What a pimp. Although I still feel that the muppets was a superior program. Where else could you find a pig spoofing Star Wars, and Sylvester Stalone singing "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" in duet with a Lion muppet? Nowhere, that's where.
These days the kids are watching some business where plasticised pre-teens (and one real pre-teen) solve problems caused by some subterranean super-villain and their "superhero" friend (who seems to have no super powers other than the ability to jump and do the splits at the same time, and to get super stuck in super stupid situations that the kids have to save him from). Today's lesson is that we--and by "we" I mean the youth today, even though I know this show is not directed at me--can save the day if we use teamwork. They had to save this mustachioed-so-called-Sparticus-super-hero-type because he had become dislodged from his own "super airship". Not since the nineteen forties has anybody thought it a good idea for a person who has designs on saving the day to pilot a zeppelin. Deridgables are not known for their speed, quickness, or maneuverability as a general rule. At any rate, when I turned the show on this character had somehow found himself overboard and was dangling from some sort of landing platform at the bottom of his airship. Luckily the kids were able to save the day by teaming up and using a soccer ball, the mayor, a frisbee, a golf club, and apple, a ping pong paddle, and a baseball bat in a classic frisbee opens box of soccer balls-one of which gets kicked by the mayor-to knock an apple out of a tree-which is chipped to ping pong paddler-who relays the apple to the batter-who hits a long drive to the dangling superhero-who then eats it giving him the energy to climb up and drive home. Seriously, the mayor is the only believable character in this little show. I cannot imagine what the kids are supposed to be learing from this outfit. The first time some kid tries to pass thier friend an apple using either a baseball bat OR a golf club they will learn VERY quickly that the only results this will produce will start with A and rhyme with wapple sauce. And in closing I would like to mention that this show was sponsored by neither a letter nor a number. Although it was thankfully devoid of "monsters" who have become obsessed with baked goods.
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- I would like to leave you all with a bit of christmasy summer advice in the form of a quote: "Deck the halls with drunken folly!"- The Lawrence Arms
Currently I am living on a block where there are no less than 15 kids at or below high school age. Now, in and of itself there is no problem with this--you know how the trends go with swinging age demographics in various neighborhoods--the kids are just fine as living breathing organisms. The first problem is that I am pretty sure that these kids are not getting enough sleep. I sleep...I think it is a well known fact by now that I am a man who enjoys a nap. The problem is that these kids, these lovable skamps, they DO NOT SLEEP! Eight in the morning is evidently time to run around screaming and jumping through sprinklers and whatnot. Then at nine or so I think they give up the auspices of playing and just stand below my bedroom window and yell a lot. You would not believe the vocabulary on these youngsters...like sailors they are. It's Ef this, and GD that. They're adorable, but terribly blasphemous. No one can take the lords name in vein quite like the youngest of the bunch who recently asserted that "with god as his witness" he was going to "fornicate" his older brother "with an iron rod to within an inch of his life." Touching, really.
My only solace is that the catholic gradeschool behind me is out for the summer and the all afternoon kickball games have come to an end. Naptime is safe, for the time being. I'm sure you are all pretty happy about that. I know I am.
Aaaaanyway, on to the reason for this here entry being written-
(Does it bother anyone that I used "this here" to describe the entry being written? Is it too colloquial?) (In addition to that, and recognizing the impropriety of immediately sequential parenthetical side-bars, I just got a whiff of myself and I friggin reek. My underarms have gone somewhere south of fresh, and that is not a happy time. I know nobody should really care about that--except maybe Kristen, for the obvious and previously discussed reasons--but I wanted to put everyone in the same frame of mind that I have been enjoying this morning. Namely, underslept, scared for the future, and a little stinky.) (Oh my, I got really far off track there, didn't I? I'll try harder to stay focused in the next paragraph, I promise.)
Okay, the reason I am scared for the future of america is thus: I turned on the television to some program on the Nickelodeon called "Lazy Town". The reason I titled this entry "No Small Wonder" is because I was feeling nostalgic for the good old days when there was good wholesome programming about families who adopt little girl robots, from whom we could all learn a lesson about innocence, caring, and understanding--and sometimes cheating at little league (but that is neither here nor there). Her name was Vicky, and she wore a little red dress. For many of us she was the first practical proof that Artificial Intelligence was not just some far fetched dream. That Haley Joel Osmet (sp?) is just a johnny-come-lately, and did his best work in a touching movie about senior citizens in their declining years and a pet lion. Back in my day we had Sesame Street, and I'm not talking about this borderline brain damaged Street of the modern era where they try and get kids to eat cheese and veggies by having a bilingual man and a red sock puppet (who by all accounts seems to suffer from adult infantilism). I'm talking about back-in-the-day when we had Guy Smiley, and the Count. The Motherfucking Count! The Count was pretty much the Sam Jackson of our youth and all he did was count things. What a pimp. Although I still feel that the muppets was a superior program. Where else could you find a pig spoofing Star Wars, and Sylvester Stalone singing "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" in duet with a Lion muppet? Nowhere, that's where.
These days the kids are watching some business where plasticised pre-teens (and one real pre-teen) solve problems caused by some subterranean super-villain and their "superhero" friend (who seems to have no super powers other than the ability to jump and do the splits at the same time, and to get super stuck in super stupid situations that the kids have to save him from). Today's lesson is that we--and by "we" I mean the youth today, even though I know this show is not directed at me--can save the day if we use teamwork. They had to save this mustachioed-so-called-Sparticus-super-hero-type because he had become dislodged from his own "super airship". Not since the nineteen forties has anybody thought it a good idea for a person who has designs on saving the day to pilot a zeppelin. Deridgables are not known for their speed, quickness, or maneuverability as a general rule. At any rate, when I turned the show on this character had somehow found himself overboard and was dangling from some sort of landing platform at the bottom of his airship. Luckily the kids were able to save the day by teaming up and using a soccer ball, the mayor, a frisbee, a golf club, and apple, a ping pong paddle, and a baseball bat in a classic frisbee opens box of soccer balls-one of which gets kicked by the mayor-to knock an apple out of a tree-which is chipped to ping pong paddler-who relays the apple to the batter-who hits a long drive to the dangling superhero-who then eats it giving him the energy to climb up and drive home. Seriously, the mayor is the only believable character in this little show. I cannot imagine what the kids are supposed to be learing from this outfit. The first time some kid tries to pass thier friend an apple using either a baseball bat OR a golf club they will learn VERY quickly that the only results this will produce will start with A and rhyme with wapple sauce. And in closing I would like to mention that this show was sponsored by neither a letter nor a number. Although it was thankfully devoid of "monsters" who have become obsessed with baked goods.
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- I would like to leave you all with a bit of christmasy summer advice in the form of a quote: "Deck the halls with drunken folly!"- The Lawrence Arms
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Goddamnit!
Okay, I had just written a very lengthy, and if I do say so myself entertaining, blog entry that was sure to delight. However, because sometimes technology works against us, like in Jurassic Park, when I went to spell check the popup blocker wouldn't allow it. So I tried a different route. The entry was completely lost. And I'm telling you, this was a REALLY good blog entry. I found myself laughing out loud as I wrote it, so if you feel you have been slighted (and you should) I would suggest writing an angry letter to whoever these clown shoes are the make things more difficult instead of easy. Oh, and also punch whomever decided that "pop-ups" were a good idea right in the kisser. Because without that asshole the "pop-up blocker" whould have even entered into it. Well fuck all...the main idea of the blog that I don't have time to rewrite now, but will get to when I have a chance was that I'm a little concerned that I might be a letcherous pervert, and that Mike and Sadie are lovely people who will undoubtedly have a long and happy life together, so happy day to them, and many more to come. Pisser! (Not to mike and sadie, to computers, bah!)
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- I don't know if this is a fluke, but every time I go to a wedding lately I get the song "not that kind of girlfriend" by the smoking popes stuck in my head. I wish someone would give it a listen and tell me if it is my psyche trying to tell me something. Werd.
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- I don't know if this is a fluke, but every time I go to a wedding lately I get the song "not that kind of girlfriend" by the smoking popes stuck in my head. I wish someone would give it a listen and tell me if it is my psyche trying to tell me something. Werd.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
The other side of the coin-
It has been said by many a person that "what you dislike in others is what you dislike in yourself." That being said I think the reason I call "bullshit" on so many people--and the reason I can tell that people are being fake or insincere--is because I myself often feel like I am insincere. I alter my behaviour to be suitable to the situation I am in. I do this because of what I view as a sense of propriety. There is a time and a place for cutting loose and being free, but there is also a time and a place to recognize that you are part of a society with a substructure of guidelines and rules which, if they were ignored all the time, would lead to a sort of chaos. Essentially, I believe in society. I believe in culture, and propriety (even though it doesn't always show.) Understanding that about myself makes me want others around me to know how to behave/act/dress for any situation in life so that it suits the situation, not a persons ability to be an individual. So many people attempt to make themselves "unique" by their outward appearance and spend little to no time making their minds and ideas unique. It's the whole "book by it's cover" thing. If you are truly your own individual it will come through, no matter what you look like on the outside, so might as well dress the part of whatever you are doing, and the singularity of who you are will find a way to shine through. It's as easy as that in my mind, if that is easy at all?
The bottom line is that I was thinking about this in the shower this morning. I could give a fuck what people think about me...deep inside. But what I don't want is people judging me on my appearance, because that keeps them from getting to know me and judging me by who I am. So I dress in the middle "Prep-core" I call the style. But I feel it's accessible. But anyone who gets to "into" one style or lifestyle or another can fornicate themselves with an iron rod, because obsessive behaviour is strange, and kind of creepy. Keep and open mind and an open heart and life will fall into place. Word up.
-A.R. Leith
The bottom line is that I was thinking about this in the shower this morning. I could give a fuck what people think about me...deep inside. But what I don't want is people judging me on my appearance, because that keeps them from getting to know me and judging me by who I am. So I dress in the middle "Prep-core" I call the style. But I feel it's accessible. But anyone who gets to "into" one style or lifestyle or another can fornicate themselves with an iron rod, because obsessive behaviour is strange, and kind of creepy. Keep and open mind and an open heart and life will fall into place. Word up.
-A.R. Leith
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
My Prediction...
...is that belts and sashes are going to be all the rage in Wookie fashion this season.
So, I went to the movies tonight. Actually, I went to the movies last night too, but the movie from yesterday doesn't bear mentioning here save for the fact that Iron Mike should possibly have his name mentioned when it comes time to give out statuettes.
No, no, the film experience tonight was something vastly more disappointing and upsetting. I was made to watch Star Trek Three: return of the Je...Sith, or somesuch. My reaction that is reflected here is not going to be about the movie directly--although it was both disappointing AND upsetting--but rather it shall focus on this movie, and the bevy of others like it that have surfaced lately.
What is going on in the world today that we need such rampant escapism in the theaters? Is it because they have run out of solid movie ideas in Hollywood to the point that they are just rehashing old ideas quicker than you can say thelongestyardwaroftheworldsbadnewsbearsandpeterpanwithatwist three times fast? Why all the fantasy, the science fiction, and the longing for days gone by? Is the modern world such a shitty place that we can't bear to face it? Do we need that two hour break from reality so much that any old story will do, no matter how implausible?
The biggest blockbusters of late that come to mind are: the Star Wars saga, The Lord of the Rings epic, and their ilk...including, but not limited to, Harry Potter's franchise, and some upcoming movie about a piece of furniture/dimensional portal. What, exactly, is it that we are trying to get away from? At this point I think we have all considered the fact the the world just might be a shitty place to live. Rather than owning this reality, however, everyone chooses to participate in a good deal of name calling and finger pointing, or just hide from the truth outright. It would seem that people would prefer to be whisked away to a world where the ending is most likely happy, rather than spending any time constructively coming up with a way to try and end poverty, and spread authentic liberty--rather than the liberty given out at gunpoint by heavily armed teenagers, no matter if the people were asking for it.
Take me, for a prime example. I consider myself to be well-rounded, intelligent, and at least a little bit caring. But here I am, complaining about the world (and maybe poking a little fun here and there) rather than getting off my fat ass and doing anything about it. Well that's just great. Great job, dude. But what are you gonna do, really? In a land where people are in over their heads financially just to feel "comfortable" and more than half the population will back a man based on his domestic "values" while his other hand is busy picking at a wound that would heal if left alone. (Now, this may just be me, or does it seem that if we just got our noses out of the middle east they, as a whole would not dislike us as much? I read--or heard, I forget which--somewhere the other day that something like 97% of Iraqis just want the United States to leave them alone. I don't see why we don't give it a try...what's the worst that could happen, a theocracy? That's pretty much what we have in the U.S. right now, so what gives?)
Aaaanyway, most of this came from three hours in a dark theater with a full bladder. Mostly one line in the movie struck me as interesting because I thought it relevant to modern American politics: "So this is how liberty ends...to resounding applause." I thought it touching, at least. Okay, that's all for now. Comment with any questions, comments, complaints, etc. Word.
-A.R. Leith
So, I went to the movies tonight. Actually, I went to the movies last night too, but the movie from yesterday doesn't bear mentioning here save for the fact that Iron Mike should possibly have his name mentioned when it comes time to give out statuettes.
No, no, the film experience tonight was something vastly more disappointing and upsetting. I was made to watch Star Trek Three: return of the Je...Sith, or somesuch. My reaction that is reflected here is not going to be about the movie directly--although it was both disappointing AND upsetting--but rather it shall focus on this movie, and the bevy of others like it that have surfaced lately.
What is going on in the world today that we need such rampant escapism in the theaters? Is it because they have run out of solid movie ideas in Hollywood to the point that they are just rehashing old ideas quicker than you can say thelongestyardwaroftheworldsbadnewsbearsandpeterpanwithatwist three times fast? Why all the fantasy, the science fiction, and the longing for days gone by? Is the modern world such a shitty place that we can't bear to face it? Do we need that two hour break from reality so much that any old story will do, no matter how implausible?
The biggest blockbusters of late that come to mind are: the Star Wars saga, The Lord of the Rings epic, and their ilk...including, but not limited to, Harry Potter's franchise, and some upcoming movie about a piece of furniture/dimensional portal. What, exactly, is it that we are trying to get away from? At this point I think we have all considered the fact the the world just might be a shitty place to live. Rather than owning this reality, however, everyone chooses to participate in a good deal of name calling and finger pointing, or just hide from the truth outright. It would seem that people would prefer to be whisked away to a world where the ending is most likely happy, rather than spending any time constructively coming up with a way to try and end poverty, and spread authentic liberty--rather than the liberty given out at gunpoint by heavily armed teenagers, no matter if the people were asking for it.
Take me, for a prime example. I consider myself to be well-rounded, intelligent, and at least a little bit caring. But here I am, complaining about the world (and maybe poking a little fun here and there) rather than getting off my fat ass and doing anything about it. Well that's just great. Great job, dude. But what are you gonna do, really? In a land where people are in over their heads financially just to feel "comfortable" and more than half the population will back a man based on his domestic "values" while his other hand is busy picking at a wound that would heal if left alone. (Now, this may just be me, or does it seem that if we just got our noses out of the middle east they, as a whole would not dislike us as much? I read--or heard, I forget which--somewhere the other day that something like 97% of Iraqis just want the United States to leave them alone. I don't see why we don't give it a try...what's the worst that could happen, a theocracy? That's pretty much what we have in the U.S. right now, so what gives?)
Aaaanyway, most of this came from three hours in a dark theater with a full bladder. Mostly one line in the movie struck me as interesting because I thought it relevant to modern American politics: "So this is how liberty ends...to resounding applause." I thought it touching, at least. Okay, that's all for now. Comment with any questions, comments, complaints, etc. Word.
-A.R. Leith
Friday, May 27, 2005
I Woke Up Today
...So, that was nice.
What made it even better was that, when I rolled out of bed (by all accounts the time was nearing eleven), Jerry Springer was on. Now, I know it is just a little thing, but it was nice. The only daytime talk shows we get in the mountains are Montel and some overly sensitive rabble like Ellen, or Tony Danza--who recently attempted suicide using a go-cart...apparently he is twelve.
Of course, we all know that Springer is totally made up, but who cares!? Although, at this point the competition for exposing the dregs of society is getting pretty tight between the former politician from Ohio and the local news. I think if it didn't happen with in my actual neighborhood I don't really need to hear about bad things that happen to other people. Okay, maybe if it happened to a member of my family, but I would hear about that through the proper channels anyway.
The fact is that I do not need to know about the guy in Atlanta perched on a crane. I hope he slips, falls and hurts himself severely, but does not die. He deserves it for wasting my time. In fact I hope he develops a limp that never goes away. Actually, I hope he falls on a news person while he is at it. I just re-read an awesome article by Donna Deliva where she totally went off on reporters, among other things, it is a very good article and can be found in Vice magazine's "Bullshit" issue. Look it up.
I think that is all I really want to write about right now, except to send props out to all the people who have done things around me in the past that have provided me with continuing amusement inside my head while I am physically enduring great deals of boredom or tedium. So, right now, props go out to:
Lindsay, from Shakespeare class, who decided that she was periodically going to have an "AWESOME TIME". I laugh a lot at that in my head.
Chuck Norris for being so dedicated to a super shitty acting career that any mention of the names Chuck, or Norris, leads me to a good chuckle. Thanks.
That's all for now, but as I remember random funny stuff from my head, I will keep putting them here where you have to read them (butsecretlydeepdownyoulikeit).
-A.R. Leith
Quote (And future title of a book I will write): from Jon Stewart's Naked Pictures of Famous People - "P.S. My vagina is a mess."
What made it even better was that, when I rolled out of bed (by all accounts the time was nearing eleven), Jerry Springer was on. Now, I know it is just a little thing, but it was nice. The only daytime talk shows we get in the mountains are Montel and some overly sensitive rabble like Ellen, or Tony Danza--who recently attempted suicide using a go-cart...apparently he is twelve.
Of course, we all know that Springer is totally made up, but who cares!? Although, at this point the competition for exposing the dregs of society is getting pretty tight between the former politician from Ohio and the local news. I think if it didn't happen with in my actual neighborhood I don't really need to hear about bad things that happen to other people. Okay, maybe if it happened to a member of my family, but I would hear about that through the proper channels anyway.
The fact is that I do not need to know about the guy in Atlanta perched on a crane. I hope he slips, falls and hurts himself severely, but does not die. He deserves it for wasting my time. In fact I hope he develops a limp that never goes away. Actually, I hope he falls on a news person while he is at it. I just re-read an awesome article by Donna Deliva where she totally went off on reporters, among other things, it is a very good article and can be found in Vice magazine's "Bullshit" issue. Look it up.
I think that is all I really want to write about right now, except to send props out to all the people who have done things around me in the past that have provided me with continuing amusement inside my head while I am physically enduring great deals of boredom or tedium. So, right now, props go out to:
Lindsay, from Shakespeare class, who decided that she was periodically going to have an "AWESOME TIME". I laugh a lot at that in my head.
Chuck Norris for being so dedicated to a super shitty acting career that any mention of the names Chuck, or Norris, leads me to a good chuckle. Thanks.
That's all for now, but as I remember random funny stuff from my head, I will keep putting them here where you have to read them (butsecretlydeepdownyoulikeit).
-A.R. Leith
Quote (And future title of a book I will write): from Jon Stewart's Naked Pictures of Famous People - "P.S. My vagina is a mess."
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Sweet Home Chicago
Okay, this is going to be brief. I just want to run down what's going on in life of late, to kind of catch up so that in the near future I can tackle some other subjects. Werd.
I'm in Chicago for the summer right now, and things are cooler by the lake. That's about all there is to say about that, except that everything is much farther from my house here. I was going through gas like crazy until I realized that my friends houses were sometimes like 30 miles away. In the D town the longest drive I have is the six miles to work once a day. Goddamnit! It's okay though because petrol is way cheaper here. And there is public transportation. So that's nice.
(This next statement has very little to do with the girls I know in durango, because I only associate with attractive people, as a general rule, but...) There are so many fine looking women around here that it's effi'n amazing. Everywhere you turn there seems to be a cute girl. That being said, "There are a million fine looking women in the world, but they won't all bring you lasagna at work." Meaning; it is all well and good to look nice, but there has to be some substance behind the glossy exterior. It is the content that really matters in the end...because we all get pruny and gross and stretched out in weird places as we get older, but what's inside stays the same.
Okay, that's all for now. I'm going to the cubs game tonight, so that should be fun. Talk to you all in the near immediate future.
-A.R. Leith
Quote- "In my perfect world, I'd be assigned a perfect girl. The price...one million kisses." - Jawbreaker
I'm in Chicago for the summer right now, and things are cooler by the lake. That's about all there is to say about that, except that everything is much farther from my house here. I was going through gas like crazy until I realized that my friends houses were sometimes like 30 miles away. In the D town the longest drive I have is the six miles to work once a day. Goddamnit! It's okay though because petrol is way cheaper here. And there is public transportation. So that's nice.
(This next statement has very little to do with the girls I know in durango, because I only associate with attractive people, as a general rule, but...) There are so many fine looking women around here that it's effi'n amazing. Everywhere you turn there seems to be a cute girl. That being said, "There are a million fine looking women in the world, but they won't all bring you lasagna at work." Meaning; it is all well and good to look nice, but there has to be some substance behind the glossy exterior. It is the content that really matters in the end...because we all get pruny and gross and stretched out in weird places as we get older, but what's inside stays the same.
Okay, that's all for now. I'm going to the cubs game tonight, so that should be fun. Talk to you all in the near immediate future.
-A.R. Leith
Quote- "In my perfect world, I'd be assigned a perfect girl. The price...one million kisses." - Jawbreaker
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Lately,
I have been getting a lot of these "inside the nose" pimples. I don't know if anybody really knows what I'm talking about--or has had the misfortune of actually experiencing one of these gems--but they hurt like the dickens and are virtually impossible to lance. Last week there was one in my left nostril, and now there is one in the right. Thankfully they are not coinciding which would probably drive me up the wall. No, the left has dissipated, but the right rages on. I don't really know why I'm telling anyone about this, but the information is now out there, and you have to deal with the repercussions of having it. Ha!
So, I've been thinking about lifestyles lately. Not in the grand sense of what gender you prefer, or if you might be a ladykiller rather than a shy everyman. No, these thoughts have been of the utterly domestic order. As previously mentioned I will soon be returning to the suburbs from my current rural mountain home. The change will not only be in denseness of living, altitude, climate, etc. But it will also mark a movement from "college" living to a much more civilized style of home. I see nothing wrong with this change, other than that it makes me think about all the niceties that I--being a struggling student--cannot afford myself.
I generally feel much more comfortable in a clean, well organized, well decorated home. These, however, are luxuries that I do not currently have because of a lack of time and funds. Sometimes I feel like a slacker because I do not have money to throw around on home furnishings and the like. But then I think about some of the residents of my family and friends as they went through college and do not feel so bad. At the very least there are no holes between floors of my residence. So that's something.
Overall I think there is just a desire within me to achieve, to succeed. And that is what all this schooling is for. (Although my time spent on higher education has severely overstepped the bounds of normalcy.) The fact is that someday I will be able to attain all these things that I really want out of life, and I should spend more time focusing on the here and now, enjoying this time for what it is rather than what it is not. So I'm going to go get started on that now...or at least when I get up in the morning. If anybody wants to hang out and do something crazy with me, they should give me a call, or drop me an emial. Laters.
-A.R. Leith
New quote, because Reggie is tired of repeats:
"If you have a brain and use it too, you've got to know that I've got a crush on you."- Magnified Plaid
So, I've been thinking about lifestyles lately. Not in the grand sense of what gender you prefer, or if you might be a ladykiller rather than a shy everyman. No, these thoughts have been of the utterly domestic order. As previously mentioned I will soon be returning to the suburbs from my current rural mountain home. The change will not only be in denseness of living, altitude, climate, etc. But it will also mark a movement from "college" living to a much more civilized style of home. I see nothing wrong with this change, other than that it makes me think about all the niceties that I--being a struggling student--cannot afford myself.
I generally feel much more comfortable in a clean, well organized, well decorated home. These, however, are luxuries that I do not currently have because of a lack of time and funds. Sometimes I feel like a slacker because I do not have money to throw around on home furnishings and the like. But then I think about some of the residents of my family and friends as they went through college and do not feel so bad. At the very least there are no holes between floors of my residence. So that's something.
Overall I think there is just a desire within me to achieve, to succeed. And that is what all this schooling is for. (Although my time spent on higher education has severely overstepped the bounds of normalcy.) The fact is that someday I will be able to attain all these things that I really want out of life, and I should spend more time focusing on the here and now, enjoying this time for what it is rather than what it is not. So I'm going to go get started on that now...or at least when I get up in the morning. If anybody wants to hang out and do something crazy with me, they should give me a call, or drop me an emial. Laters.
-A.R. Leith
New quote, because Reggie is tired of repeats:
"If you have a brain and use it too, you've got to know that I've got a crush on you."- Magnified Plaid
Friday, May 06, 2005
In A Haze
Of late I have been wandering around in an almost complete daze. It is due, I suppose, to the combination of an awful allergy season and the uncertainty of life.
Not that life is ever really that uncertain. I dislike uncertainty--try to avoid it at all costs. I like to know, to be sure of what is going on around me. What has happened, what will happen, and what is happening. Not knowing makes me self conscious and shy. I prefer to be confident and gregarious. At the source:
Soon I will be moving home for several months. I look forward to this change of pace a great deal. However, at this point it has been so long since I've actually lived there that it has morphed into a situation that is "new", so to speak. I'm nervous about what will go on while I'm there. Who will I hang out with? What will I deem "fun"? All of that sort of stuff. It should be a good time, no doubt, but right now it is just a looming bump in the otherwise uninterrupted normalcy of my life.
For the past four years my life has gone Spring: done skiing go golfing finish school, Summer: take some school work at golf course drink too much, Autumn: stop golfing start thinking about skiing go back to school, Winter: ski too much work too much drink too much study too much stress out. That's it. Every year I have known what was coming next...or at least what was supposed to come next. This year there is a monkey wrench in the works and it is creating excitement. I'm not sure that I like excitement.
I've grown complacent in life. I'm comfortably in a rut. I live in a town of roughly 36,000 people, two thirds of whom I either do not know or do not care for. As for the other third, they are good people. There's a nice, familial, feel to knowing the people in your neighborhood. But, it does breed inaction. When everything is good and comfortable a person is generally loathe to change it. Perhaps this is why I have thrown myself a curve ball this summer. I have no doubts that everything (both with this summer, and with life in general) will turn out for the better.
The other problem is a lack of people in my life, currently, who are okay with doing nothing, all day long. Perhaps it is a symptom of growing older, but it seems that everyone is just too busy these days. There was a time when there were people whom you did stuff with. It didn't matter what you did as long as the people you were doing it with were fun. Those days seem to have gone by the wayside. I know that at this point I have stopped flogging the dead horse and am now kicking it in the teeth and giving it an elbow drop, but could it be that what I want most from a woman--from a girlfriend--is someone who just wants to hang out with me all the time, and who I likewise want to spend time with. It doesn't matter if you're going shopping at Wal-Mart at three in the morning, or just wandering around the town for shits and giggles, it's nice to have someone along with a good sense of humor. But alas I have digressed. I'm done now. Check back later for more.
-A.R. Leith
Two Quotes to End it:
"Assign me to a nice girl...so she can ruin me, eternally."- Jawbreaker
"There's no telling what you can learn, by taking your pants off."- !!!
Not that life is ever really that uncertain. I dislike uncertainty--try to avoid it at all costs. I like to know, to be sure of what is going on around me. What has happened, what will happen, and what is happening. Not knowing makes me self conscious and shy. I prefer to be confident and gregarious. At the source:
Soon I will be moving home for several months. I look forward to this change of pace a great deal. However, at this point it has been so long since I've actually lived there that it has morphed into a situation that is "new", so to speak. I'm nervous about what will go on while I'm there. Who will I hang out with? What will I deem "fun"? All of that sort of stuff. It should be a good time, no doubt, but right now it is just a looming bump in the otherwise uninterrupted normalcy of my life.
For the past four years my life has gone Spring: done skiing go golfing finish school, Summer: take some school work at golf course drink too much, Autumn: stop golfing start thinking about skiing go back to school, Winter: ski too much work too much drink too much study too much stress out. That's it. Every year I have known what was coming next...or at least what was supposed to come next. This year there is a monkey wrench in the works and it is creating excitement. I'm not sure that I like excitement.
I've grown complacent in life. I'm comfortably in a rut. I live in a town of roughly 36,000 people, two thirds of whom I either do not know or do not care for. As for the other third, they are good people. There's a nice, familial, feel to knowing the people in your neighborhood. But, it does breed inaction. When everything is good and comfortable a person is generally loathe to change it. Perhaps this is why I have thrown myself a curve ball this summer. I have no doubts that everything (both with this summer, and with life in general) will turn out for the better.
The other problem is a lack of people in my life, currently, who are okay with doing nothing, all day long. Perhaps it is a symptom of growing older, but it seems that everyone is just too busy these days. There was a time when there were people whom you did stuff with. It didn't matter what you did as long as the people you were doing it with were fun. Those days seem to have gone by the wayside. I know that at this point I have stopped flogging the dead horse and am now kicking it in the teeth and giving it an elbow drop, but could it be that what I want most from a woman--from a girlfriend--is someone who just wants to hang out with me all the time, and who I likewise want to spend time with. It doesn't matter if you're going shopping at Wal-Mart at three in the morning, or just wandering around the town for shits and giggles, it's nice to have someone along with a good sense of humor. But alas I have digressed. I'm done now. Check back later for more.
-A.R. Leith
Two Quotes to End it:
"Assign me to a nice girl...so she can ruin me, eternally."- Jawbreaker
"There's no telling what you can learn, by taking your pants off."- !!!
Monday, May 02, 2005
And Then...
...We All Bought Towels.
It's been a while, yeah?
So the semester is over. Vegas was visited, and we all bought towels. I understand that it has been a while since I have updated what--I'm sure--is everyone's favorite web site. And, indeed, there have been quite a few things on my mind since we last spoke. So here they go, in no particular order:
1. I woke up the other day to go to work. Not a stunning feat all on it's own, but there's more... While I was eating oatmeal and waiting for my car to warm up. (Just in case any of you DON'T know, young Vicky is a very finicky lady.) While this was going on I decided to edify myself with a little bit of television. And what should I happen to catch but the climactic soliloquy from the film adaptation of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. If you have neither seen, nor read, this little gem I would suggest it to all. As the story goes, there is a young architect who refuses to compromise his style and ideas to the modern will and whimsy. The message that has so endeared this book to me is that of personal achievement and accountability. I believe that everyone [every adult] is, or should be, responsible for themselves. This includes the notion that those who can and do achieve should be held accountable because others have not. Could multinational conglomerates exploit the workers in foreign lands if they could find no willing workers--at any cost--in those countries? Probably not. Is personal achievement different from greed? I think so. Especially where The Fountainhead is concerned, in that the message is not about acquisition of wealth, but rather not being willing to give up your beliefs simply because someone else tries to force you to. I think that people should be able to believe and behave how they desire, so long as it does not hurt another person. Which brings us to a second question...
2. I was at a sort of dinner party last night where the game of Scatergories was being played. I was a willing participant in the game and enjoying myself when a moral question was raised. the clue was "Things that jump/bounce" the letter was "R", and my answer was "Retarded Kids". A question was raised concerning the propriety of this answer. To be frank, one of the other contestants suggested that I be denied the point, not because--in this case--the word "retarded" is an adjective and therefore modifies the noun, "kids", but rather because my answer was thought to be "tacky". At the time I thought it best not to create a row and did not make an issue of the refused point. However, upon further review I began to wonder... Is it more "tacky" (a word that I hate because somehow it never fails to remind me of Joan Rivers) to refer to these mentally disabled people in the context of things that jump and/or bounce, which indeed they do, or to assume that they are somehow lesser beings, in need of protection from life and "name calling"? So many groups who are somehow seen as "different" wish only to be treated as equals in the human race. That being the case, should punches be pulled because someone is "differently abled", or should you treat them in the same way you might treat anyone else that you deal with on a day to day basis? I kind of suspect that it is the same type of person who desires that someone with a developmental disability should be treated with kid gloves (in other words, not as an equal, but as someone to be sheltered, protected, or otherwise made to feel different) and also recoils from homeless persons in horror. Now, maybe it was a bit gauche for me to use that particular modifier in a board game, but it did bring to light the broader philosophical question of whether treating people differently helps or hurts in the end. For me, the jury is still out, but I do lean towards treating everyone the same, regardless of who they are. It may be cruel, but it might also be the only fair way to do business.
Okay, that is all for right now, because I am tired, but there will be more shortly, I assure you. Because, summer is here, and I'll have to vent somewhere. Ta Da!
-A.R. Leith
It's been a while, yeah?
So the semester is over. Vegas was visited, and we all bought towels. I understand that it has been a while since I have updated what--I'm sure--is everyone's favorite web site. And, indeed, there have been quite a few things on my mind since we last spoke. So here they go, in no particular order:
1. I woke up the other day to go to work. Not a stunning feat all on it's own, but there's more... While I was eating oatmeal and waiting for my car to warm up. (Just in case any of you DON'T know, young Vicky is a very finicky lady.) While this was going on I decided to edify myself with a little bit of television. And what should I happen to catch but the climactic soliloquy from the film adaptation of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. If you have neither seen, nor read, this little gem I would suggest it to all. As the story goes, there is a young architect who refuses to compromise his style and ideas to the modern will and whimsy. The message that has so endeared this book to me is that of personal achievement and accountability. I believe that everyone [every adult] is, or should be, responsible for themselves. This includes the notion that those who can and do achieve should be held accountable because others have not. Could multinational conglomerates exploit the workers in foreign lands if they could find no willing workers--at any cost--in those countries? Probably not. Is personal achievement different from greed? I think so. Especially where The Fountainhead is concerned, in that the message is not about acquisition of wealth, but rather not being willing to give up your beliefs simply because someone else tries to force you to. I think that people should be able to believe and behave how they desire, so long as it does not hurt another person. Which brings us to a second question...
2. I was at a sort of dinner party last night where the game of Scatergories was being played. I was a willing participant in the game and enjoying myself when a moral question was raised. the clue was "Things that jump/bounce" the letter was "R", and my answer was "Retarded Kids". A question was raised concerning the propriety of this answer. To be frank, one of the other contestants suggested that I be denied the point, not because--in this case--the word "retarded" is an adjective and therefore modifies the noun, "kids", but rather because my answer was thought to be "tacky". At the time I thought it best not to create a row and did not make an issue of the refused point. However, upon further review I began to wonder... Is it more "tacky" (a word that I hate because somehow it never fails to remind me of Joan Rivers) to refer to these mentally disabled people in the context of things that jump and/or bounce, which indeed they do, or to assume that they are somehow lesser beings, in need of protection from life and "name calling"? So many groups who are somehow seen as "different" wish only to be treated as equals in the human race. That being the case, should punches be pulled because someone is "differently abled", or should you treat them in the same way you might treat anyone else that you deal with on a day to day basis? I kind of suspect that it is the same type of person who desires that someone with a developmental disability should be treated with kid gloves (in other words, not as an equal, but as someone to be sheltered, protected, or otherwise made to feel different) and also recoils from homeless persons in horror. Now, maybe it was a bit gauche for me to use that particular modifier in a board game, but it did bring to light the broader philosophical question of whether treating people differently helps or hurts in the end. For me, the jury is still out, but I do lean towards treating everyone the same, regardless of who they are. It may be cruel, but it might also be the only fair way to do business.
Okay, that is all for right now, because I am tired, but there will be more shortly, I assure you. Because, summer is here, and I'll have to vent somewhere. Ta Da!
-A.R. Leith
Friday, April 08, 2005
What's up Florida?
...Why you acting so crazy?
In addition to the cesspool that I already believed it to be there have been many instances that have lately been brought to my attention giving good reason that the state of Florida should be forced into secession and it's people left to their own devices. The reasons are innumerable, but--for the reasons of clarity and comprehension--will be enumerated here.
Having spent several years living in Florida during childhood I can unequivocally say that it is tantamount to a colostomy bag that miraculously gained statehood. However, the more recent cases of oddity and gross negligence have a more resounding quality than the testimony of a child. And so, they will be related to you forthwith.
Number One- While recently perusing one of my favorite online sites (in this case "Get Your War On") and reading a commentary on the Schiavo case which was at the time raging in the "state-that-shall-not-be-named". The statement made was to the effect that the United States should cut it's losses in Iraq and elsewhere. Where the future former state is concerned the suggestion was that it should be severed from the rest of the country before the "torso" becomes infected, and that the state's residents should be left little more than a goodbye note and a gift certificate to applebees. I applaud this decision and wish to see it carried out as quickly as possible, but that is not the point here. The point is that this innocently funny statement got me thinking about just how many things come out of the state of Florida all bass-ackwards.
Number Two- So, the Schiavo case is number one (hard to believe when we all know USA is #1), number two comes in the form of a couple of other medical oddities. First, the case of Baby Karen--at least I think her name is Karen, and I don't really want to look it up right now. Now poor baby Karen was born without a brain; I know that is unpleasant to think about, but it happens more often than you might want to consider (about one in 10,000 babies in the U.S. are born anacephalic), so we're going to think about it now. Even more unpleasant is the thought of a bunch of dead babies piling up everywhere. That is why it is baffling that the Floridian judicial system would rather have two dead babies than one. You see, the parents of this young baby wanted to donate her usable organs so that other babies might live, because Karen herself would not live more than a week or so. Turns out that is VERY illegal under current Florida law. They would rather ALL of the babies die, rather than only the baby that had no chance of survival anyway.
The second instance was one of a Dentist who was giving his patients the AIDS virus. Apparently he was informed by the Florida board of health that it was perfectly alright for him to continue practicing medicine, and that there was no need for him to inform his patients that he was HIV positive. We all understand that accidents happen, but this is just gross misconduct all around. I'm starting to think that there is something in the water--besides the thousands of pounds of farming chemicals dumped into the Everglades--down there...
Number Three- This one is more political. Actually, this consists of two examples. One is the botched election in 2000. There are rampant accusations of voter fraud in the state of Florida surrounding November of that year, including anyone with a name that even matched that of a convicted felon not being able to vote because they had been removed from the voter rolls. The theory being that most people in prison were non-white. Now these, of course, are simply accusations. They may not be true, and they may not even be founded, but the fact is that something was so screwed up in that state that the door was left open to such accusations, so something isn't being done right.
The second item for number three is that of NASA (which stands for the National aeronautic Something Aruther). They have somehow found a way to reverse Newton's idea that "what goes up, must come down". I suppose they haven't exactly reversed it, as much as they have bent it a little by altering the number of pieces it comes down in. This is kind of cruel, and not really funny, just a fact, and something else that should be fixed before the whole state wins the "Darwin Award".
Number Four- Disney World. It's kind of sad when a company that blatantly alters history, preys on young children, holds cartoons hostage, and employs land purchasing and political tactics that are sketchy at best is the best thing your state has going for it. Actually, it is a toss up between Disney and the whole "Margaritaville" thing for the title of best thing in Florida, but that's still not saying much. I will say this, Disney World is the only clean part of Florida, end of story. Plus, they have a monorail...they just can't let NASA get their hands on that. (For a more in depth look at Disney read Carl Hiaasen's Team Rodent.)
I think that is about all for now. It will at least give some people some stuff to think about for a little while. As usual, comments are welcome. And hey, look on the bright side, this isn't nearly as depressing on a personal level as all that stuff about the ladies. I shouldn't worry, it'll happen when it happens, right?
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- Hey, wasn't Ted Bundy down in Florida too? That's fucking it, get me a scissors and something to lance that thing with. I'll get rid of that boil myself.
Quote: "I'll call you on your shit if you please call me on mine."- Propagandhi
In addition to the cesspool that I already believed it to be there have been many instances that have lately been brought to my attention giving good reason that the state of Florida should be forced into secession and it's people left to their own devices. The reasons are innumerable, but--for the reasons of clarity and comprehension--will be enumerated here.
Having spent several years living in Florida during childhood I can unequivocally say that it is tantamount to a colostomy bag that miraculously gained statehood. However, the more recent cases of oddity and gross negligence have a more resounding quality than the testimony of a child. And so, they will be related to you forthwith.
Number One- While recently perusing one of my favorite online sites (in this case "Get Your War On") and reading a commentary on the Schiavo case which was at the time raging in the "state-that-shall-not-be-named". The statement made was to the effect that the United States should cut it's losses in Iraq and elsewhere. Where the future former state is concerned the suggestion was that it should be severed from the rest of the country before the "torso" becomes infected, and that the state's residents should be left little more than a goodbye note and a gift certificate to applebees. I applaud this decision and wish to see it carried out as quickly as possible, but that is not the point here. The point is that this innocently funny statement got me thinking about just how many things come out of the state of Florida all bass-ackwards.
Number Two- So, the Schiavo case is number one (hard to believe when we all know USA is #1), number two comes in the form of a couple of other medical oddities. First, the case of Baby Karen--at least I think her name is Karen, and I don't really want to look it up right now. Now poor baby Karen was born without a brain; I know that is unpleasant to think about, but it happens more often than you might want to consider (about one in 10,000 babies in the U.S. are born anacephalic), so we're going to think about it now. Even more unpleasant is the thought of a bunch of dead babies piling up everywhere. That is why it is baffling that the Floridian judicial system would rather have two dead babies than one. You see, the parents of this young baby wanted to donate her usable organs so that other babies might live, because Karen herself would not live more than a week or so. Turns out that is VERY illegal under current Florida law. They would rather ALL of the babies die, rather than only the baby that had no chance of survival anyway.
The second instance was one of a Dentist who was giving his patients the AIDS virus. Apparently he was informed by the Florida board of health that it was perfectly alright for him to continue practicing medicine, and that there was no need for him to inform his patients that he was HIV positive. We all understand that accidents happen, but this is just gross misconduct all around. I'm starting to think that there is something in the water--besides the thousands of pounds of farming chemicals dumped into the Everglades--down there...
Number Three- This one is more political. Actually, this consists of two examples. One is the botched election in 2000. There are rampant accusations of voter fraud in the state of Florida surrounding November of that year, including anyone with a name that even matched that of a convicted felon not being able to vote because they had been removed from the voter rolls. The theory being that most people in prison were non-white. Now these, of course, are simply accusations. They may not be true, and they may not even be founded, but the fact is that something was so screwed up in that state that the door was left open to such accusations, so something isn't being done right.
The second item for number three is that of NASA (which stands for the National aeronautic Something Aruther). They have somehow found a way to reverse Newton's idea that "what goes up, must come down". I suppose they haven't exactly reversed it, as much as they have bent it a little by altering the number of pieces it comes down in. This is kind of cruel, and not really funny, just a fact, and something else that should be fixed before the whole state wins the "Darwin Award".
Number Four- Disney World. It's kind of sad when a company that blatantly alters history, preys on young children, holds cartoons hostage, and employs land purchasing and political tactics that are sketchy at best is the best thing your state has going for it. Actually, it is a toss up between Disney and the whole "Margaritaville" thing for the title of best thing in Florida, but that's still not saying much. I will say this, Disney World is the only clean part of Florida, end of story. Plus, they have a monorail...they just can't let NASA get their hands on that. (For a more in depth look at Disney read Carl Hiaasen's Team Rodent.)
I think that is about all for now. It will at least give some people some stuff to think about for a little while. As usual, comments are welcome. And hey, look on the bright side, this isn't nearly as depressing on a personal level as all that stuff about the ladies. I shouldn't worry, it'll happen when it happens, right?
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- Hey, wasn't Ted Bundy down in Florida too? That's fucking it, get me a scissors and something to lance that thing with. I'll get rid of that boil myself.
Quote: "I'll call you on your shit if you please call me on mine."- Propagandhi
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
That Thing I Forgot...Before
Yeah, I was busy telling all ya'll about what I think about the ladies and it totally made me forget the reason I signed on to dis here ting earlier today:
I was filling my auto with gasoline this afternoon and there was one of those new Chevy Aveo's sitting there in the parking area of my local filling station. I know, not to exciting on it's own, right? But this motherfucker was sitting on DuBs. Like someone spent more money on their wheels than the whole car is worth. It was funny. I got so excited I almost needed a hanky.
-A.R. Leith
I was filling my auto with gasoline this afternoon and there was one of those new Chevy Aveo's sitting there in the parking area of my local filling station. I know, not to exciting on it's own, right? But this motherfucker was sitting on DuBs. Like someone spent more money on their wheels than the whole car is worth. It was funny. I got so excited I almost needed a hanky.
-A.R. Leith
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