Early

It's not 11 p.m. and I'm very tired. This is no good.

Instead of doing work, I'm doing nothing. At least I used to make to-do lists. I haven't done that in a few weeks.

I'll start one tomorrow.

Wait, since I just typed that, isn't that in it of itself a to-do list?

It is. At least I think it is.

Thanks

To everyone that came to the Bottle last night. It was fun.

Staring at a computer screen everyday at work doesn't make me want to update this thing as much as I should.

Funny

The story about the two guys that escaped from prison and posed as Katrina victims is funny. It sucks for the real victims, but it's still funny.

I really have nothing to say

Issue 2 should be online by the beginning of next week. That’s good.

I’ll be DJing at Liar’s Club on December 1, my birthday. Please come. Please do not buy me a drink. I get them for free.

It seems that when I type the word where, the second e usually ends up capitalized. Weird? I don’t know. Insignificant? Yes.

I bought two masks today. One is a snow owl, one is for a mental hospital patient that likes to eat faces. FUN TIMES U.S.A!!!

I’m listening to the new Wilco live album. I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s kind of boring, but I expected it to be kind of boring.

Traversing

Rather than just sit here and be complacent with the infomercial that is blaring at me, behind me, I will update the entire WORLD of the goings-ons of my life. It will be fantastic.

I visited four bars tonight. I am not drunk, nor have I been drunk because of drinking boooooze tonight.

Delilah's had very few patrons. The DJ played what he wanted. He played Howlin Wolf, The Undertones, Gene Vincent and more music that I like. Max would have liked it. Instead, he is in Europe, probably setting fires. Kelsey and I played pool.

The Empty Bottle show is coming up. YAY! THINGS TO DO!

"Somebody Put Something In My Drink" by the Ramones is a bad song. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

My face will one day be on a t-shirt. It will be a negative portrayel of me. Do not buy such a shirt. Fuck you if you do. In fact, fuck all of you. Why haven't you put me on a t-shirt? You're all so dumb.

Snow

I doubt that it is snowing in Chicago because the people of earth have pissed off God.

Hooray for metal!

Zach Wylde is playing next door. About 10 of Jeremy's friends came over to drink before the show. All of them have on black leather Black Label Society vests. They are all very polite. Yay for metal.

This can't be good

The Vapor Trail Random Brutal Love Master (RBLMm) Here today, gone today. You are The Vapor Trail. Are you in a relationship now? Your exact opposite: The Backrubber Deliberate Gentle Sex Dreamer What about now? Vapor Trails can be highly charismatic people--unpredictable, confident, and magnetic. You're experienced. You know how to handle yourself in a relationship, and many people appreciate that. Many people, all in a row. You've had your share of blissful beginnings, to be sure. But things almost never turn out how you'd like, do they? The problem is you're never happy with someone for an extended period of time. Relate to the following: Vapor Trails especially need a girl who will laugh at their jokes. They're also the most likely male type to be haunted by serious regret. FACT: A few of your exes, the ones you were best to, will always love you. Nice going. ALWAYS AVOID: The Intern, The Maid of Honor CONSIDER: The Sudden Departure Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating. My profile name: foulinc

I want to conquer the world

Mike and I saw Bad Religion. They were good.

I finally have a job interview. Though it's only $10 an hour, it's something. Thanks to everyone who gave me help in what to do. I appreciate it.

Kelsey, Mike, Steve and some guy I know but don't know the name of are drinking in The Machine. It's after 1 am on a Thursday night/Friday morning. "When the Levee Breaks" is on. Ironic?

My heart feels weird.

Summer teeth

I’ve always thought that Corus bank is the low-class of the banks. All the tellers seem to be college dropouts. No one with any real money would ever use it as their sole bank. I used to think that this was one of the reasons I used it as my bank. No longer. I feel like a loser every time I go in there. I have to ask for my balance because I no longer have an ATM card. Then I get my balance. I may have a college degree, but the guy behind the counter has more than $7.40 in his account.

After leaving my bank, I headed over to The Machine. In July, this place was great. As time passed, the place has become a sour reminder of how I’m fucking up. There really isn’t anything I can do, besides get a full-time job, to get this fucker in print. So if anyone knows of anyone who can and will hire me, let me know. If not, well, then the magazine has been printed, you just don’t have one because they flew off shelves (or in this case, floors).

So with no real purpose and not enough money to do much of anything, I’ve decided to head to Pilsen for some photos that need to be taken. After that jaunt, I will travel to Chinatown. Chinatown usually makes me somewhat happy. I have no bad memories associated with the place and the noodle place I always go to is cheap.

But before I leave, I must find some company. It’s this weird desire to spread the wealth of my boredom. I will offer nothing insightful or witty, but I will pay for your meal, so you better come. So for the past hour or so, I’ve been looking for comrades online with no luck. This has led me to myspace. Rather than sit here and feel sorry for myself, I try to add hundreds of “friends” for Fetor. Why? I have no idea why. It gets my mind off of things, at least it used to. I just spent three and half minutes on some 16-year olds page because she was streaming “Me and Mia” by Ted Leo. And that, is fucked up.

I first read “Seize the Day” during the summer of 2001. I didn’t like the book. It didn’t click with me or something. I was forced to re-read it in my junior or senior year at DePaul. It’s now one of my favorite books. I’m starting to understand why Tommy Wilhelm loses his mind. I might not have an ex-wife, kids, money or a father, but I do think I can relate. God damn. Things could be a lot worse. I could have a Corgan sized ego.

Killing

This entire week has been a waste. No job leads, no progress on the magazine, no fun. The only positive is having another song for the band. That isn't a joke.

I'm about to head over to the Brain. Stop by. I'll be standing/sitting near the door til 2. We can share a story and then fight over the relevance of a "Rocky VI" in the year 2005.

Not the Lord's day

Why did we stay out so late? It was a Tuesday for Christ’s sake.

Mike wanted to get out of his house last night. So we did. Like most 22-year olds that want to get out of their house at 10 p.m., he wanted to drink. Fine by me.

The two of us began our adventure with a nice, chilly walk from my mom’s apartment. We arrived at the less than classy Shortstop Lounge 20 minutes later. Though Mike grew up just a few blocks from the saloon, he had never been inside. It was my fifth or so time drinking in Forest Park and it was already my second time at said establishment.

The bar has a unique drink special, $3.50 mason jars of Millet Lite, PBR and MGD. The regulars seem to match the specials, cheap but rewarding. In the three and a half hours spent at the establishment, we saw a young fellow try to steal one (ONE!) bottle of opened beer, a middle-aged man play most of Gwen Stefani’s album “for the ladies” (there were 4 ladies in the entire place) and one of the ladies swear at a video poker machine like a sailor with a love for Dennis Leary.

Mike and I were not done at 2 a.m. We decided to continue our adventure and head northeast to Underbar.

Underbar is a 4 a.m. establishment. It’s not that cheap, but the clientele is somewhat “hip” and we were lucky to have a place to sit. Dan, a bartender at the Hungry Brain, the bar I work at, was there drinking with his pal Mike.

“Mike, this is my friend Mike.”
“Hey, Mike.”
“Mike plays bass.”
“I play treble.”

Clever.

Since no trip to Underbar is complete without a visit to Blue Light, Mike and I went next door to one of the sleaziest bars in the city. Blue Light is the kind of place that caters to people with wandering eyes, poor teeth and low standards. In our 30-minutes there, the bartender threatened to “put you guys in the corner,” heard Cher’s “Believe,” sang along to Cher’s “Believe,” petted a dog to the beat of Cher’s “Believe” and Mike called a friend at 3:49 a.m. asking if she wanted to pick up a “McBeer” with him.

Don’t piss on Underbar. Nothing good ever comes from pissing on Underbar. I’ll leave it at that.

I got home at 4:45 a.m. Mike had work at 9 a.m. in Des Plaines. It was a Tuesday night.

Sabine's blog did this

Leave your name and
1. I'll respond with a celebrity you remind me of.
-kurt cobain or a bum
2. I'll tell you what I really think about you.
-you're an incredibly talented and gifted artist, i wish you'd get a leg up
3. I'll tell you what song you remind me of.
-any nirvana song
4. My favorite memory of you.
-"wanna blow this popsicle stand and get a drink?" turns into drinking boone's farm at 11am. OORRRRR HIM AND MONSTER MAGNET!!
5. I'll tell you what cartoon you remind me of.
-doug

6. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal.

I love this shit and I have no idea why. If you leave a message on the post with your name, I'll do the same.