So, last night I had stripped down to take a shower and decided to take a shit, and it turned out really nasty, so after I wiped my ass, I ended up soaping up a washcloth to wash off the smeary, nasty shit caked on my ass, and when I wiping, I noticed by touch I had one big-ass pimple on my right ass-cheek, not in the crack proper, but still on the slope going into the crack.
I ended up backing up to the mirror and looking at it, and since it looked like a sweat blister that was ready to pop, and was kind of red like there was some blood in it, I went and pinched it, and this water with mixed blood came out, but not all of it, so I kind of had to feel around and squeeze it to get all the shit out of the pimple. The skin underneath kind of swelled up some from my popping the pimple and it looked a little angry, so I threw some antiobiotic shit on it, and assumed it would be all right.
Today, there's a surprisingly large scab where the pimple was.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Went to a black Hebrews restaurant last night.
So, I had had indefinite dinner plans to get together and catch up with a fellow grad student on campus who's not only British, as I knew, but, as I just found out, also a vegan, which severely limits the restaurant options available, and complicates the whole thing to the point where it makes you just want to call the whole thing off and meet for a drink instead. Vegans piss me off like that; that's fine that they're vegans, but they shouldn't expect to just go and dine with everyone else.
But, I've had takeout from this one soul food restaurant like 20 streets south of campus that delivers to a coffee shop on campus, and since it's run by vegan black Hebrews, I decided this was the perfect time to figure out how to get there, and I ended up borrowing a car from a friend for the expedition, which wasn't much of an expedition.
The way there was uneventful, though I had never driven through the ghetto at night. People drove crazy and fast and passed on the right always or in the face of oncoming traffic, and it was pretty much just young thuggish black men walking around, and nothing was going except for lines at sub and gyro shops.
There were also a lot of cop cars; twice we passed them outside stores, with their lights on, and on the way back we had to take an alternate route at one point since some cop cars with lights flashing had blocked off part of the street.
The restaurant itself was also uneventful. It was pretty packed, and some other white people were just leaving.
After the waiter delivered the menus and I had already decided like five minutes ago, my one British friend was still looking at the menu and was like, "I'm not used to all this choice!"
Like two seconds later the waiter, this tall young black dude with a yarn, African-colored red-yellow-and-green hairnet on, came up to take our orders, and was like, "Are you ready to order, or do you need a minute?"
"We still need a minute," I was like, "My friend here's a vegan, he's not used to all this choice."
"Awesome," the waiter was like, and thumped his heart two sign and gave out a peace sign to my one British friend.
For food my friend got bbq tofu and soy macaroni and cheese and a side of string beans, and I got this chef's special which is like brown rice with vegetables mixed in and spiced breaded fried tofu... Mine was kind of dry, but my friend liked his.
Nothing else too much happened, except when we were all done with the meal and the waiter delivered our check, before he turned to leave, he all manly-like patted my one British friend on the shoulder and was like, "Keep it up, bro."
But, I've had takeout from this one soul food restaurant like 20 streets south of campus that delivers to a coffee shop on campus, and since it's run by vegan black Hebrews, I decided this was the perfect time to figure out how to get there, and I ended up borrowing a car from a friend for the expedition, which wasn't much of an expedition.
The way there was uneventful, though I had never driven through the ghetto at night. People drove crazy and fast and passed on the right always or in the face of oncoming traffic, and it was pretty much just young thuggish black men walking around, and nothing was going except for lines at sub and gyro shops.
There were also a lot of cop cars; twice we passed them outside stores, with their lights on, and on the way back we had to take an alternate route at one point since some cop cars with lights flashing had blocked off part of the street.
The restaurant itself was also uneventful. It was pretty packed, and some other white people were just leaving.
After the waiter delivered the menus and I had already decided like five minutes ago, my one British friend was still looking at the menu and was like, "I'm not used to all this choice!"
Like two seconds later the waiter, this tall young black dude with a yarn, African-colored red-yellow-and-green hairnet on, came up to take our orders, and was like, "Are you ready to order, or do you need a minute?"
"We still need a minute," I was like, "My friend here's a vegan, he's not used to all this choice."
"Awesome," the waiter was like, and thumped his heart two sign and gave out a peace sign to my one British friend.
For food my friend got bbq tofu and soy macaroni and cheese and a side of string beans, and I got this chef's special which is like brown rice with vegetables mixed in and spiced breaded fried tofu... Mine was kind of dry, but my friend liked his.
Nothing else too much happened, except when we were all done with the meal and the waiter delivered our check, before he turned to leave, he all manly-like patted my one British friend on the shoulder and was like, "Keep it up, bro."
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I manned up.
I always feel like such a pussy because I have a squeamish stomach, but the other day when I was at the Brian Wilson concert, I put my hand in my pocket where I had forgotten there was a mechanical pencil that I had put in there after putting a few entry clues into a crossword, and a huge chunk of the lead from the pencil got deep in between my cuticle and my nail and broke off, and though it hurt like a bitch, I couldn't get it out at the time.
When I got home and dug it out with a nail clipper, it was a quarter-inch long.
Surprisingly, I got it out without being squeamish at all.
I wonder how I would fare if I was ever in something like the Jonestown airstrip massacre, where the one congressman's aide had to sit in a tent all night with no medical help with like all of her one thigh blown off, and the remaining muscle gangrening, and trying to keep conscious until medical help arrived so she wouldn't go into shock and then die (she manned up and made it).
When I got home and dug it out with a nail clipper, it was a quarter-inch long.
Surprisingly, I got it out without being squeamish at all.
I wonder how I would fare if I was ever in something like the Jonestown airstrip massacre, where the one congressman's aide had to sit in a tent all night with no medical help with like all of her one thigh blown off, and the remaining muscle gangrening, and trying to keep conscious until medical help arrived so she wouldn't go into shock and then die (she manned up and made it).
2 E-mails (2 of 2): My mom.
Got this e-mail from my mom today:
Mornin' [a pet name for me, derived from my full name]!
Recorded "Jonestown" for ya..............2 hrs. Also, the next program, which I've watched before was an hour long on "The Family", another cult. Recorded that one also.
Lovz ya, Mom
Dad got called to sub in Bio today at [the high school that I went to].
XXXXOOOOOOOOOO
We had talked about Jonestown on Sunday when I gave my parents a call since I had been reading a Jim Jones bio, and my mom mentioned that all the cable stations were playing Jonestown documentaries over and over since this week is the 30th anniversary of the mass suicides (actually, today).
Mornin' [a pet name for me, derived from my full name]!
Recorded "Jonestown" for ya..............2 hrs. Also, the next program, which I've watched before was an hour long on "The Family", another cult. Recorded that one also.
Lovz ya, Mom
Dad got called to sub in Bio today at [the high school that I went to].
XXXXOOOOOOOOOO
We had talked about Jonestown on Sunday when I gave my parents a call since I had been reading a Jim Jones bio, and my mom mentioned that all the cable stations were playing Jonestown documentaries over and over since this week is the 30th anniversary of the mass suicides (actually, today).
2 E-mails (1 of 2): My neighbor.
From my neighbor, a (white) (female) lawyer and former head of my hometown's county democratic party, in response to an e-mail asking her about her night watching the election results:
I became very emotional.I was a very young child when Brown v Board of
Education was decided and racial integration had just begun. This is
simply wonderful although he will be dealing with horrific financial and
war messes made by Bush and the Republicans. Good for [your mom] volunteering!
Keep the faith. [her name]
I remember once she told me about being a campus activist in the early 60s, and how when she was having a confrontational meeting with this one dean and she read him this huge list of demands, at the end of it, she was like, "And what are you going to do about it?", and he was like, "I'm going to wait."
I became very emotional.I was a very young child when Brown v Board of
Education was decided and racial integration had just begun. This is
simply wonderful although he will be dealing with horrific financial and
war messes made by Bush and the Republicans. Good for [your mom] volunteering!
Keep the faith. [her name]
I remember once she told me about being a campus activist in the early 60s, and how when she was having a confrontational meeting with this one dean and she read him this huge list of demands, at the end of it, she was like, "And what are you going to do about it?", and he was like, "I'm going to wait."
Walked around the neighborhood today.
An international friend was in town, so I showed her around the neighborhood today.
We went for pancakes at the one cafeteria that gave free food till noon the day after the Election in a "Breakfast on Obama" promotion, and I asked one of the black counterladies how that went.
"Whoo Lord," she was like.
"So there was a lot of people who showed up?", I asked, and she was like, "I couldn't even count them."
When I mentioned that I had heard Obama had showed up himself, she talked to another black counterlady right by her without even turning her head and was like, "Hear that? There's a rumor going 'round that Obama showed up."
When I was eating the pancakes, I noticed out the window that this second-story beauty salon with this electronic sign has a new rotaing posting on it:
HAIR BRAIDING
then
WAXING
then
EYEBROW
then
THREADING
then
JESUS
then
LOVES YOU
I also took her by the one shop where I get all my t-shirts and buttons, and though the owner wasn't there, saddly, just some English woman I've never met before, but my friend rifled through a rack of t-shirts I never looked through, and all of a sudden she pulled out this 4XL shirt on sale for $10 that was like -
VOTE FOR THE BRUTHA MAN
[picture of Obama smiling next to a checked box]
NOT!
FOR THE OTHER MAN
[picture of a sour-looking McCain with a big crossed circle over his face]
"Wow!", my friend was like, "I don't know anyone that big!"
After that, we went by Obama's house, and there was even more security than when I had been by there the week before the election; they now have even more of a whole nother street blocked off, too; and after that, campus, then we said farewell.
We went for pancakes at the one cafeteria that gave free food till noon the day after the Election in a "Breakfast on Obama" promotion, and I asked one of the black counterladies how that went.
"Whoo Lord," she was like.
"So there was a lot of people who showed up?", I asked, and she was like, "I couldn't even count them."
When I mentioned that I had heard Obama had showed up himself, she talked to another black counterlady right by her without even turning her head and was like, "Hear that? There's a rumor going 'round that Obama showed up."
When I was eating the pancakes, I noticed out the window that this second-story beauty salon with this electronic sign has a new rotaing posting on it:
HAIR BRAIDING
then
WAXING
then
EYEBROW
then
THREADING
then
JESUS
then
LOVES YOU
I also took her by the one shop where I get all my t-shirts and buttons, and though the owner wasn't there, saddly, just some English woman I've never met before, but my friend rifled through a rack of t-shirts I never looked through, and all of a sudden she pulled out this 4XL shirt on sale for $10 that was like -
VOTE FOR THE BRUTHA MAN
[picture of Obama smiling next to a checked box]
NOT!
FOR THE OTHER MAN
[picture of a sour-looking McCain with a big crossed circle over his face]
"Wow!", my friend was like, "I don't know anyone that big!"
After that, we went by Obama's house, and there was even more security than when I had been by there the week before the election; they now have even more of a whole nother street blocked off, too; and after that, campus, then we said farewell.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Fun Fun Fun: Brian Wilson concert.
So, I went to see Brian Wilson in concert last night.
Good for me, the concert was nowhere near full, so my entire section of people in the way back the management let set up in a section like twenty rows ahead of where we were. The entire time, though, I kept thinking, "I hope he doesn't take this to heart and this makes him break down again," so whenever he asked the audience to sing along or clap, I damn well did it, even though I hate that shit, since I feared the consequences.
Some of his motions to the music were really herky-jerky too, like one time when the lyric was something about love surrounding whatever, and he lifted both hands up and did this quick swat in, to make a gesture for "surround".
Anyhow, I particularly liked how during the intermission and after the concert, they had muzak arrangements of a lot of Brian Wilson songs, including his recent stuff, done in such a creative way that I bet he arranged them himself.
I also liked how he had a 16-piece band -- the sound was very full, and even though his voice wasn't the best, since he had written everything, you had to take the music in full as being him, and not just his voice, so it made you admire him all the more. I like how he must eat up a lot of money on tour to have that many musicians travel with him, but he does it anyways since he likes the sound (he must, that must be the reason).
It was interesting, too, how before the song "Add Some Music to Your Day", which I always thought had really cheesy lyrics, Brian Wilson was like, "Listen to this song, it has nice lyrics." All of a sudden when it was talking about hearing music when you're in the dentist's chair, or when kids go up to an ice cream truck passing by, I realized that that must be how Brian Wilson sees the world, and that he must really be lifted up by the incidental music of life like that.
Overall, though, I wasn't a fan of his new album, "That Lucky Old Sun". It didn't quite cohere, except for the last three songs, which were breath-takingly beautiful and about his mental illness, and I hate to say I liked them, since I hate it when someone prostitutes their life so clearly like that, and plus if they did that and the song sucked, you kind of are in this situation where you have to like the song because it's about them and their troubles (though the last three songs didn't suck, they were quite good, I just hate the possibility of a guilt trip making me like a song).
Good for me, the concert was nowhere near full, so my entire section of people in the way back the management let set up in a section like twenty rows ahead of where we were. The entire time, though, I kept thinking, "I hope he doesn't take this to heart and this makes him break down again," so whenever he asked the audience to sing along or clap, I damn well did it, even though I hate that shit, since I feared the consequences.
Some of his motions to the music were really herky-jerky too, like one time when the lyric was something about love surrounding whatever, and he lifted both hands up and did this quick swat in, to make a gesture for "surround".
Anyhow, I particularly liked how during the intermission and after the concert, they had muzak arrangements of a lot of Brian Wilson songs, including his recent stuff, done in such a creative way that I bet he arranged them himself.
I also liked how he had a 16-piece band -- the sound was very full, and even though his voice wasn't the best, since he had written everything, you had to take the music in full as being him, and not just his voice, so it made you admire him all the more. I like how he must eat up a lot of money on tour to have that many musicians travel with him, but he does it anyways since he likes the sound (he must, that must be the reason).
It was interesting, too, how before the song "Add Some Music to Your Day", which I always thought had really cheesy lyrics, Brian Wilson was like, "Listen to this song, it has nice lyrics." All of a sudden when it was talking about hearing music when you're in the dentist's chair, or when kids go up to an ice cream truck passing by, I realized that that must be how Brian Wilson sees the world, and that he must really be lifted up by the incidental music of life like that.
Overall, though, I wasn't a fan of his new album, "That Lucky Old Sun". It didn't quite cohere, except for the last three songs, which were breath-takingly beautiful and about his mental illness, and I hate to say I liked them, since I hate it when someone prostitutes their life so clearly like that, and plus if they did that and the song sucked, you kind of are in this situation where you have to like the song because it's about them and their troubles (though the last three songs didn't suck, they were quite good, I just hate the possibility of a guilt trip making me like a song).
Dance Dance Dance: How could I forget?
How could I forget? It wasn't until last night at the Brian Wilson concert that I suddenly remembered, when I was at a conference a few weekends ago I ran into this one early 50s black prof whose work I had read, twice!
The first time I was rushing off to a panel in this tucked-away, distant room I had never been to before, and the hotel layout was confusing, and this one taller shrimpy white guy was stopped talking to this shorter black woman for directions to the same room, and it was her! I stopped and was like, "Now where is this room?", and after she told us, I tried to introduce myself since I really want to get to know her better and was like, "I think we met at a panel last year," and she just shook her head and was like, "Ump-uh, ump-uh," and she shooed me away and was like, "Not now, now now you're gonna be late," and when I still tried to re-introduce myself, she just kept being like, "Not now, not now."
That night, after hitting some receptions, I went to the main dance party at the conference, and all the older profs were out on the dance floor since they were playing oldies. I can't remember at the moment what song it was, but that same professor was out there by herself, doing this cool dance move where she had one foot planted and the other stomping, and with her opposite hand just kind of thrust her fist in the air. Later, she danced with some (black) friends her age to "Dancing Queen", and when the DJ was like, "And now, for the second time tonight, by request, 'The Electric Slide'!", she was out there with like forty other old professor doing the dance in tandem. I couldn't take my eyes away, and stayed around even though I was dog-tired just to watch everyone dance, and especially her.
The first time I was rushing off to a panel in this tucked-away, distant room I had never been to before, and the hotel layout was confusing, and this one taller shrimpy white guy was stopped talking to this shorter black woman for directions to the same room, and it was her! I stopped and was like, "Now where is this room?", and after she told us, I tried to introduce myself since I really want to get to know her better and was like, "I think we met at a panel last year," and she just shook her head and was like, "Ump-uh, ump-uh," and she shooed me away and was like, "Not now, now now you're gonna be late," and when I still tried to re-introduce myself, she just kept being like, "Not now, not now."
That night, after hitting some receptions, I went to the main dance party at the conference, and all the older profs were out on the dance floor since they were playing oldies. I can't remember at the moment what song it was, but that same professor was out there by herself, doing this cool dance move where she had one foot planted and the other stomping, and with her opposite hand just kind of thrust her fist in the air. Later, she danced with some (black) friends her age to "Dancing Queen", and when the DJ was like, "And now, for the second time tonight, by request, 'The Electric Slide'!", she was out there with like forty other old professor doing the dance in tandem. I couldn't take my eyes away, and stayed around even though I was dog-tired just to watch everyone dance, and especially her.
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