few different items appear on today's agenda, and I'm too tired to attempt cohesiveness. So much to work on this weekend, tonight's looking like an opportunity to pick up our favorite Chinese food on the way home after work, then collapse and hope whatever I'm drinking doesn't spill.

*****Yesterday a co-worker whose strangeness often trumps even my own (due mostly to the fact that she's an older woman, past middle age, and her mind is probably on its way out to pasture) walked over to my desk carrying her trashcan. Most of the time she works in the office across the hall but they've got her filling in a couple hours a day on the other side of our office so I've had to sort of guide her through how things work over here. She placed the trashcan next to mine and told me she'd been back and forth to the bathroom a few times this afternoon but couldn't make it the last time and had to use the trashcan She wanted to make sure they'd take it so she brought it over next to mine. That's right, she threw up in her trashcan and instead of taking the bag out and throwing it out somewhere, just put it down 3 or 4 feet behind me. She then told me she was going home early because she was sick...but felt she needed to launch into a full-length justification of her decision. I told her to just go, if she's throwing up then there's not much else that really needs explained. If you're going to bring your puke over near me and just leave it, then no one really needs further explanation on why you feel you should be going home.

*****George W Bush will be in Omaha late next week to give a speech about Social Security. This could be my chance to take a sick/vacation day and get in on some protest action. What should I protest? The war in Iraq? The way his administration has handled it? His attitudes toward the poor? Corporate scandals? The economy? His actions toward education? WTO? G7? SpongeDon Squarefeld? Clearchannel? Bush Lies in general? What's interesting/scary is that I just want to do something, anything, to help give voice to the millions who get screwed over as a result of his attitudes and actions/inactions. Don't worry, FBI...I'm not a firestarter.

*****Big show tonight at Sokol Underground...Beep Beep headlining, with Two Gallants and Rogue Wave opening. Two Gallants I could never really get into -- write-ups I've seen often namecheck early folk/blues musicans like Skip James or Woody Guthrie but always hint at "modern interpretation) or something like that. Maybe I'm just not remembering correctly the actual music I've heard. I dig what I've heard of Rogue Wave -- Indie rock/pop out of San Francisco (record released by SubPOP) that lazy hacks like me say reflects late 60s rock/pop. Word is that they're super live. Beep Beep is one of those outfits always worth seeing. The question is, should we pony up the 8 bucks each? Will we end up just falling asleep partway through the first set? Tonight's one of those nights where I really would love to go see this show, but don't feel like going out at all. So we'll see.

*****Baseball season looms large ahead. I shouldn't be this excited, but I am.

******This weekend's outlook: Homework in both classes, of course. Stacey and I have to come up with a lesson to teach the kids on Sunday. I'd like to get a couple reviews done. A writing project popped in my head the last couple days and I'd like to start on that, as well. I recently found a blank book with blank pages and this project is pretty well suited to that. I was thinking the other day that I tend to find myself in busy area job situations and as a result, always find reclusive little hiding spots everywhere I go. I've done so all my life. So maybe I'll write about all the places I've hidden, be it backyard forts "in the pines," or walling my bunk bed in with blankets while rooming with 6 other guys at college...or locking myself in a bathroom stall on a less-used floor during most of my lunch hour 3 or 4 days a week so I can get some reading and peace. I've hidden from God in churches and hidden from lovers and authorities and dogs. I also want to get myself back in the habit of writing without a computer. Sometimes I need to hide from technology.

*****January 30 is Richard Brautigan's 70th Birthday. He died 20-some years ago, of course, killing himself with a bullet to the head. He's become one of my favorites, though, and you know this already if you read my journal much so I'll just stop with all that.

*****Engagement I read about first: Kate Bowman! Many Congratulations!
3 Kate Bowman memories:
1. Reading what she wrote for Bandoppler back in the online-only days. I always loved what she brought to Bandoppler and the thoughts she got me thinking, about social justice and searching deeper.
2. Running into her at a U2 concert at Notre Dame in the fall of 2001. Just plain fun.
3. While she was at Sojourners she absolutely had to write sometimes, and I always loved reading whatever it happened to be about.

******Jason of opuszine.com also got engaged this past week...he lives only an hour away so we get to spend time with both he and Renae from time to time and we think the world of them both. We're looking forward to this wedding quite a bit! Congratulations, you two!
3 Jason Opus memories:
1. "Steak & Beer Nights" (though neither are required) at various places throughout the years. Isn't it about time for another one, maybe last spring?
2. Shows in his basement. I remember MAP and Mr. 1986 and the Marianas in particular.
3. Driving to Des Moines to catch Unwed Sailor while listening to Jason and Jared talk about Mac computers most of the way.

*****As exciting as both the engagements are, I'm just a bit more excited about the birth of my nephew, which should happen early next week sometime. Feb. 1 at noon Eastern Time, as I remember correctly. Since his older sister insisted on lodging herself sideways and forcing a C-Section, my sister is just going to go the same route with him. They're naming him Benjamin Isaac -- Benjamin after my deceased brother and Isaac after...I don't know, but probably not Isaac Hayes. I wish I could see my niece and nephew more often, but I don't see moving to Georgia or Tennessee in our future. Anyway, those who pray, please pray his official arrival happens safely and that my mother's flight (I don't think she's ever flown before) goes well, too.

Occasionally we run into perfect juxtaposition. Today my station on Launch played the Mamas & Papas' "California Dreamin'," then "California Stars" by Billy Bragg & Wilco. I can't pretend that hasn't made my day. The week's been as rough as any week in quite some time, between being sick since Sunday night and a constant barrage of garbage at work. It's tough enough to get through the work week, much less with a bad cold...to have various accounting and human resources issues to have to deal with where I have to correct others' screwups, all while handling phone calls and a steady stream of people at the desk, not to mention people standing or sitting near my desk and talking...this all just needs to be over. Someday soon, perhaps. So, anyway, hearing those two songs right in a row really did make my day. Leaving the paper due tonight on my computer at home, however, presents a challenge. I hope Stacey gets her voicemail in time. Really should've called her before now. This isn't good. I actually got it done early, which explains why I forgot about it. Figures.

In better news, Carter reworked the articles and music reviews areas...not only do they have a nice crisp snappy neato torpedo look, but I can also now post who contributed the story, which is definitely the way we want it.

As I begin this entry, I'm listening to Bob Dylan & George Harrison duet on "All I Have To Do Is Dream"...that's right, the Everly Bros. song. It's strange hearing Dylan singing a regular pop song. Okay, here comes "Rocks & Gravel" from the Gaslight Tapes, with him holding out long nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooo ooooooooooooooooooootes...This post might take a while, but it's storytime. (1)The other night at the grocery I was picking up a few things on the way home from work. Stacey had class so I gathered up items to make chili. In the canned goods aisle, a pregnant woman kept looking at me. I wasn't sure what could be going on, but I figured I reminded her of someone or she just was admiring my nouveaux faux homeless look, hoping the kid in her womb would grow up as unattached to America's blind, delirious consumerism as I pretend to be. I got closer and she asked if I would reach up onto the top shelf and get her some juice. Apparently the sale on Juicy Juice was popular and the first few were missing, and only a gangly person such as myself could reach what left. So I did.(2)As mentioned here before, I'm planning to do a term paper on Richard Brautigan. Our first 3-5 page rough draft is due Wednesday. It's supposed to be a rough draft and bereft of any research, at least anything that's really research. If any of you want to look at it, reply to wherever you're reading this and let me know, I'd love opinions. It's rough, which befits the sort of draft it's supposed to be. In preparing for the next phase of the paper, I went to the university library and checked out a variety of Brautigan-related books. My turn at the checkout counter came. The people at the circulation desk are very friendly and the middle-aged gentleman this time wasn't an exception, greeting me and such. Once he realized everything I was taking had to do with Brautigan, his face sparked with familiarity. "Is Brautigan still around?" he asked. I told him he passed on about twenty years ago but, short on time and hating to bear bad news, neglected to inform him that Brautigan was found dead of assumed self-inflected gunshot wounds, whiskey bottle at his side. The circulation desk man then told me that he was out in the Big Sur (California) area same time as Brautigan, that it's beautiful country. I asked him what he did out there. He was out there with the Diggers, he said. A few people from Omaha got together and joined up with the Diggers and moved West. I had to get back to work (hurtful irony) and told him goodbye, but asked if it was possible I could interview him for the paper. He liked that idea. I'm not sure if I'll need him for the paper or not, really, but if the thesis goes the way I hope, then I definitely will. I really want to learn from the guy, learn more about the Diggers and that whole scene from someone who was there. Maybe I've got some weird fantasy going on but to me, sitting around and listening to Blues Magoos or the Byrds or Love or Mad River or Bob Dylan or whatever with this guy and finding out more about people (not even necessarily the big names, just in general) I want to spend my life researching and writing about...well, that sounds like something just right.(3)Sometimes scenes from Office Space or The Office (BBC) magically show up in my own workplace. I know everyone says that, probably, but here's proof on my end. My boss knows quite well I'm working on various projects right now, things that need done ASAP. One of them has to do with her pet project and another is something quite central to our office. Early Friday afternoon, however, she sent me an email telling me that my front desk area was a bit messy and dusty and that she wanted me, that very afternoon, to move everything and clean it all up. She said it looked very cluttered. "No kidding," I exclaimed in my head, "I'm getting things stacked on my desk that have to wait while I do these other priority projects." I was in a fairly dour mood already and figured even broaching the subject would be a bit inflammatory, so I avoided it and kept plugging away. A little while later (during some of the time in between, she sat on the couch maybe 10-15 yards behind me and talked loudly and just "hung out" and such) she approached the desk and asked when I was going to clean up my desk. I waited a few seconds to avoid a snap, then told her I was still thinking about that, trying to decide which projects were of lesser priority than tidying up a bit, that maybe the rest of (insert her pet project name) could wait until later and it would just get done when it got done. Or maybe, I pondered aloud, that other thing wasn't as important. Yeah, I'd do it as soon as I was done with this particular piece I was working on right that moment. She missed the sarcasm and was fairly pleased. To her credit, though, she had bought me a bagel earlier on in the day so I couldn't be too upset. Most working girls don't roll over for food that costs less than a couple bucks, I'm sure, but we office whores come cheap.(4) Earlier that morning (Friday, yesterday), Flannery (our beloved orange and white cat) got outside. Our old storefront door, heavy as it is, doesn't shut too quickly and when S. left for work, the little sneaky cat jumped just in time to get stuck in the door. I heard her meowing loudly for a couple minutes, but she does that often when we leave and I was working on my own morning routine elsewhere and didn't pay it much mind. Later I went to leave and realized I'd not seen Flannery in a while, which is strange that time of morning. Generally she's around us both quite a bit when we're getting ready for work. I looked around the house, checked all her favorite spots. No Flannery. I finally realized she must be outside, called in late to work, and got to looking. I looked up and down the blocks in our neighborhood near our place, but couldn't find her. I called Stacey right in front of our unit, out in the street, and was talking to her about it when I heard meowing. I called out for Flannery and she started meowcrying but I couldn't find her. Suddenly my mind clicked and I knew she was in the engine of a pick-up truck right across the street. I knocked on several doors but no one answered. I lay under the truck and tried to find her, coaxing her to come down. She just cried a bit but didn't move, wherever she was. The driver's side door was unlocked, though, so I popped the hood. That must have scared the poor little thing because when I opened the hood and looked into the engine, she was on the ground. I crawled under the truck again, grabbed her and took her into the house. Of course she had grease on her legs and a bit on her back and chest. I called in to give Stacey and my office the update, then traumatized poor Flannery even more by subjecting her to a bath. At least she didn't try to clean herself and get sick off the grease, anyway. She was furious and scared all at once and used her talons to slash my ankle, which started bleeding a bit. Finally I got her bathed and calmed down. She still has grease under her nails, though, but I think that's fine. S. comes from a line of mechanics and guys who work with cars so we're used to that, anyway.What's playing now? "Moon, I Already Know" by Mount Eerie.

First, Happy Birthday to Walker...not sure if he reads this or not.What's especially funny is that as I start to write this, the song "Detachable Penis" started playing on my Launch player. I remember in high school or in the next couple years, we saw that video and it changed our lives. Today's been interesting. Determined to lose all this extra weight I've gained, I embarked on a morning walk. Unable to see the ice at the bottom of our front door steps, I found myself slamming into the ground. Tupac was in my headphones talking about being a soldier and since nothing was broken, I got up and walked around for a while in the pre-7am darkness. Just a couple minutes after I got back into the house, the power went out. We've now learned not to run the hair dryer and space heater from the same outlet (or maybe not at the same time at all). I left the landlord a voicemail, called my boss to tell her I'd be late and drove to the university. I'd been pondering getting a fitness center membership for the semester and I'm not sure which sealed it, my needing a shower or the fear of ice. I ended up only half an hour late for work...not bad.

I need to make this quick because I'm writing this in my hour between work and class. I need to leave a good bit earlier, though, to pick up some food for Michial and myself to eat just before our class starts.The class I'm in with Michial is an "intro to literary research" class, all who go through the English Graduate Studies program must take it. I'm hoping to do my term paper on Richard Brautigan. Depending on how well this goes, perhaps my thesis will be something related to him, as well.Sometime later on in May, one of Stacey's best friends is getting married. Since she's definitely going to be there, anyway, S. proposed that we make it a sort of vacation time...take a few days off, hang out in chicago some of the time, etc. Assuming I'm at the same job, I'll have plenty of vacation days. The only reason I wouldn't go is if I'm taking a class and we can't work things around that. Summer sessions are pretty unforgiving if you skip classes...so much content in a short time. We'll see what happens...I hope it works out. If any of you Chicago people read this and want to hang out or even care to host a couple people who will take you out for Indian food or whatever's your poison, slip me a note after class. All right, that's enough...gotta get out of here. You'd think a guy could get 10 minutes of quiet after work but a few people are around chattering, kids coming in wanting stuff despite the fact that our office lights are out...time to turn off the Neil Young record and get away.

In response to my recent post (one before MLK Day), juandelacruz said:

How is the Uncut Dylan cd? The "Blood on the Tracks" story and the alternate album that was originally recorded (acoustic and in most cases, I think, even more raw...maybe TOO raw was the idea, I guess, huh?) is really interesting. I have a recording of his appearance on Mary Travers' radio show when that album came out, where she tells him she really enjoyed "Blood on the Tracks," and he says something like, "Yeah, people tell me that all the time and I've never understood that, enjoying that kind of pain." Whew!

Yeah, they actually use that quote by him in their story. In usual Dylan fashion, he’s been inconsistent when talking about that album’s influences. On one hand, the quote referenced above. Later, though, he said that the album had nothing to do with him or his life and that they were just songs.

The one track that singlehandedly brought me to Dylan's music was an unreleased track from 'Blood,' "Up to Me." It just haunted me and absolutely, perfectly captured and painted in abstract strokes the despair and sorrow I'd felt at that moment...it changed my life, headed me towards folk music, towards a more abstract and artistic approach to, well, everything, etc. It still stirs emotions in me, just for the power it had for me, rolling around in my lonesome head one winter weekend in...maybe 1995.

I’ll definitely have to go listen to that one. I did find a copy of the raw, original Blood on the Tracks but now I’ll have to look up that song..

The Uncut compilation is all right. Some fairly obvious tracks on there, some not so much. Much of the collection is dedicated to covers. Warren Zevon’s “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” is a little chilling, of course, and cuts like Richie Havens covering “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” and “Sam Stone” by John Prine aren’t surprising, but very solid. A musician named Buddy Miller who has long been a sort of Christian “alt.country” standard bearer (he does a lot with his wife, Julie) belts out “With God On Our Side.” I’d heard his album a month or so ago and it’s a fairly decent country album, one fans of traditional country will enjoy more than your average Toby Keith fan, but it’s more country than gospel and could hold its own on country radio if given a chance. Anyway, I was a bit surprised to hear him cover it on his album but there it was…ready for ears to hear. It drags a little, honestly, but I’m used to Dylan’s fairly rapid delivery on it, too. There’s some really good stuff on this compilation by bands/musicians I’d not really heard before: Mary Lee’s Corvette (fairly decent rendition of “Shelter from the Storm”), Graham Lindsey (Dead Man’s Waltz) and Dream Syndicate (covering his cover of “See that my Grave is Kept Clean”). Robyn Hitchcock, Gillian Welch and David Rawlings triple up on “Trying to get to Heaven before They Close the Door,” Billy Bragg (a natural for this album if ever there was one) sings “Deportees” and Steve Goodman, a folk singer I’ve heard one other song by, throws in a live cover of Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans.” A group I’d only heard of in passing, The Coal Porters, do “Idiot Wind.” While obviously a zillion other cuts could have made the collection, I sort of expected Old Crow Medicine Show’s “Wagon Wheel” to pop up, given their association with Doc Watson and a fairly significant following, at least in the U.S. Oh well, anyway, a few more folks are on the disc, too, but that’s about all the review I have in me.


My nephew should arrive in a couple weeks. After some of the issues with Becca’s birth (she lodged sideways and wouldn’t budge), my sister and her doctor decided to just have another c-section so Benjamin Isaac has the healthiest birth-day. I’m very happy to have a nephew coming and can hardly wait to meet the young fellow someday soon.

It’s Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and I’m not really doing anything to commemorate or celebrate. Sure, I get the day off work but I have no plans to attend services, rallies or even semi-related gatherings to mark the day. Perhaps I’ll attend a luncheon at the University later on in the week, maybe not, but either way the closest I’ll get to doing anything even remotely to the day for which I get paid to do nothing is to read homework for my African American Literature class, something I’d be doing whether it were MLK, St. Patrick’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Ghandi Day, Columbus Day, Super Bowl Sunday or just another Monday night.
At the most, if I remember to do so, I’ll pray for continued progress in race relations, peace and positive growth in urban areas. I’ll thank the Lord for people like Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, LeRoi Jones aka Amiri Baraka, Rosa Parks, Jackie Robinson, Ernie Banks, Bessie Smith, Du Bois, Carver, and so on, but I don’t plan anything that requires more than prayer and a few moments of remembrance. I’m not apathetic to the plight of slaves both past and present. The tragedy of America’s inner cities often drops in on my train of thought. I’m taking the literature course in part because I want to learn more, appreciate more intensely, further the discussion and history and knowledge and everything else.
I have no plans for MLK Day, though, and I have no good reason why. Or why not.
I grew up in an ultra-conservative Baptist church and school, the kind where the label “independent fundamentalist” was emphasized and repeated so often we knew to identify ourselves as such, just in case someone confused us with the other types of Baptists out there. I still remember the day where some of us, wanting not just a day off but to stir up trouble and get to the bottom of a question that plagued us, asked the principal (who also taught our His-story classes) why we didn’t get the day off for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Note that at the time, African American students were a rarity in our school. I remember only one all-black family sending their children and they weren’t around for more than a couple years. Note also that our school was as north as Indiana could go, at most a five minute drive from the Michigan border. When approached on the question, the principal didn’t appear to squirm with embarrassment or act as if he’d been put on the spot. He replied that he didn’t think Martin Luther King, Jr., was the kind of black person we should observe a holiday for. If we wanted to take a day off school to celebrate some other worthy black person, he said, then we should come up with a name and date and then he’d think about it…he mentioned Booker T. Washington as a possible example and later championed Clarence Thomas. But Martin Luther King, he said, was a womanizing Communist and not someone worthy of a holiday. Of course, this is the same church where I was pulled into the youth pastor’s office and told I should think about suggesting to those black kids I kept bringing to youth group that maybe it was time they attended, you know, um…”one of their own churches.” One of the few colleges we were encouraged to attend was Bob Jones University, whose unamashedly racist policy banning interracial dating lasted five more years after I graduated from high school, and then only after it landed George W. Bush in the hot seat during the Republican presidential primaries.
I can’t blame my upbringing for my lack of action today, however. The Orthodox Christian parish of which I am a part, not to mention Orthodox Christianity as a whole, openly teaches and understands it owes much of its theological understanding and history to African saints; in fact, while only a tiny number of Orthodox existed in the States before the second half of the twentieth century, many of them were an ethnic minority who faced racist scourge themselves. No, my own spiritual and religious ties aren’t to blame for my inaction. If anything, I’m doing nothing despite them.
No good reasons to explain my inaction come to mind. I’ve observed racism and prejudice first-hand enough times to know it hasn’t disappeared, but I have yet to find a way to act against it any other way than to make decisions to live life displaying love and acceptance for everyone, even calling out racist comments and actions when I see them. The major battles have been won. We all share the same bathrooms, schools and pools. Many of our most respected, best-loved cultural figures are African-Americans, and those most admired and watched by the general public represent African-Americans in different ways, from Oprah and Star Jones to Luther Vandross and 50 Cent, from Condoleeza and Colin to Toni Morrison and Alice Walker. The hushed but existing racist stereotypes and prejudicial undertones won’t be erased by the rallies or sit-ins that accomplished so many great things 30 or 40 years ago. The Supreme Court can’t rule on attitudes and, in fact, is probably supposed to uphold the right to carry even the most dangerous of opinions. The truth is, while racism itself is still alive and strong across America, what can be done with marches and speeches has been done. Amidst a nation where tolerance is still no more or less than a slogan, no action I could perform today that I don’t have the opportunity to do every day is necessary, and I’m thankful for the opportunity to take a day and reflect on that and thank God for those who dreamed of a day when inactivity no longer meant disinterest or apathy.

The heavily busy week continues, but tonight's the end of the heaviest. The past two nights I've had classes. Monday night I started doing our parish's bookstore inventory but got cut off early when Stacey's class got out early (we had to carpool that day), which means more for tonight. I can't guarantee that I'll finish the inventory tonight, but having at least Friday night semi-free would be great.

My classes promise to be quite wonderful. One of these days I'll get around to describing them a bit more. Michial is in one of them with me, and it's difficult to not sit there and wisecrack the whole time. We behaved pretty well last night, anyway. It's great to have a good friend with whom to share a class.

I took one of those crazy internet tests that go around, this one asking various questions in an attempt to find out what age I act. The answer they came up with is "30," which is probably the closest to my age they offer. I'm not sure if that means I'm in good shape or not...for whatever a short meme test is worth.

What I've listened to today:
Electric Prunes, Mass in F Minor
Son House, Live at the Gaslight Coffee House, NYC, 1965
The Byrds, 5th Dimension
A few Screamin' Jay Hawkins songs
"Tracks Inspired By Dylan" compilation compiled by Uncut magazine (included with January issues)
Little Brazil, You and Me (band that's currently local but releasing this record on a Seattle label in the coming month and should be going national soon. I've heard all these songs a number of times live and really enjoy this outfit.)

Reading today: an article in Touchstone I don't have time to link to
feature article in Uncut, about Dylan's Blood on the Tracks album and the whole situation behind it.
Bright Eyes article at http://www.timmcmahan.com/brighteyes5.htm, or at least a little of it so far.

All right, time to leave work, put gas in the tank, and inventorize until I keel over.

Today's been a good day, made mostly possible through the fact that this afternoon I've been listening to Electric Prunes Fan Radio on Launch.com (http://launch.yahoo.com/ar-313929-l...Electric-Prunes), which means bands I quite enjoy like The Fugs, The Leaves, The Seeds, Blue Cheer, Blues Magoos, 13th Floor Elevators, Sagittarius, Kaleidoscope, The Pretty Things, Tommy James & the Shondells' psychedelic stuff, The Frantics, and so on. Most of it's hard to find outside the Internet, but if I ever fall into disgusting amounts of money, besides the charity stuff to relieve my conscience and buy me satisfaction, buying loads of old records of bands that fall into that psychegarageblues type will definitely be a pastime. You all probably already know I'd spend a mint on ancient folk, blues, primitive, and so on. I like to think I'm not materialistic but whether or not records get to be an exception or not, I don't know. My birthday's in less than two months, and the Nuggets boxed sets are great introductions to these bands. I've borrowed the first one from the English Dept chair at the university and loved it, so if anyone out there gets the urge to do something mindlessly philanthropic, there's your idea.Here's the part where I could go into some sort of garbled babble about how these guys were really getting the idea of the blues right, you understand, despite most of them being white except for, you know, Arthur Lee, but mixing that blues idea and sound in with something new and unique and terribly intoxicating, you understand...I was talking earlier to some friends in the feminist organization here on campus. Apparently they did some project survey and it turns out I'm the only male secretary on campus. I know a former roommate (hello, Dean) was also a male secretary here for a few months, but he's the only other one I can think of. What's funny is that I may be the only male sexretary on campus, but probably not the only bearded one. Yes, that's right, I've been growing my facial hair. It started the first time I slashed my finger Thanksgiving weekend, but once that was healed curiosity and laziness took over the party. Add to that the fact that I've not cut my hair in almost a year and you get the picture. I'm somewhere between an Orthodox monk and crazed hippie in appearance, I guess, though my face hasn't grown in terribly quickly. I've not decided what to do at what point I find job opportunities I like and find myself interviewing for one, but they should be hiring me for my skills, not for my looks, right? Sure.My African-American Novels class starts in less than 15 minutes. Should be super. S. is in some sort of Sexual Development class...she's looking at adding a Women's Studies Major in addition to her Special Education one. Anyway, part of the course's credit is dependent on community service work. The professor, who is also a nurse and midwife, will allow interested parties to help with a birthing. Of course S. is thrilled at the opportunity. She figures that she's worked jobs the last few years in which she's continually changing and cleaning any and all bodily fluids and body parts for the mentally handicapped, has had shit literally flung at her, cleaned up blood numerous times, etc...so birthing won't be any kind of huge shock. Anyway, off to class I go.

This entry gets posted without the benefit of coherence. I start it with about twenty minutes before work starts (which means 7:40) and without having taken a first sip of coffee.

I'm already tired of this semester and it's only the first day of it. I spent a portion of last night job searching and there's absolutely nothing out there that I'm both qualified for and even slightly interested in. I guess this is why we start when we still have a job.

Yesterday and today I've had some dizziness issues. This morning I lay in bed and felt as if I were floating, but uncontrollably. That makes coffee this morning probably a bad idea, but the way things feel, I may as well call in sick if coffee can't happen...I feel disoriented and lost. I drink at least one 32 oz cup of water a day, usually more, the days I'm at work...hopefully that takes care of it. S and I carpooled, anyway, so it's too late. She's quite excited about her classes. Today's is something about sexual development, I'm not sure...she just signed up for it over the weekend. I'll probably go find the book(s) for the class over lunchtime. Michial starts classes today, as well...we have one class together, Wednesday night, the intro class all English Graduate students must take early on. I really like that class' professor (who also is the English Grad program chair) and am happy to be learning from her again.

The psalter reading for this morning includes Psalm 51. Reading/chanting that always makes me feel good/better. Sure, it's a bit of a downer at first glance. I mean, King David did a terrible thing and horrible consequences occurred. Perhaps some would take solace in thinking, "Well, see, I've never done anything that bad!" For me, though, the psalm is incredible on a couple levels. First of all, because it's testament to the human ability to mix with grace and actually repent, be sorrowful for our misdoings, pray for forgiveness. We're able to change. We're able to see the wrongness of our actions and thoughts and at least try to put those behind us and get past that. I don't see a whole lot of that going on in the world, and no doubt David (and Nathan) didn't either. So much of the mass is dedicated to repentance and asking for forgiveness, and I often chant, read or whatever, trucking on through it without really savoring it or fully getting what I'm doing. The psalm shows us that we are capable of more, of understanding our own wrongdoing and striving for better. It also reminds me of the fact that were it not for God's grace and patience and working with us, the psalm would have no place. David wouldn't be writing the psalm were there no hope of forgiveness, and that shows us all that we have that same hope.

Anyway, that was terribly spur of the moment rambling, I realize, and it's after 8 and I've done a few opening duties but still without any sort of mental cohesion, if that makes sense. I'm planning to go do bookstore inventory (or at least part of it) while Stacey's in class tonight, I'll have about an hour, at least. This could be a very long day. I don't have any classes that end after 9 this semester, but both go past 8pm, one until 8:40. I just hope I can do it. This morning I'm barely capable of tying my shoe and making coffee.

Then again, I live in a country where "Meet the Fockers" has been the most attended movie for three weeks in a row now. Maybe I'm just slowly ascending into management material.

For the second time in two months, I cut my right index finger while washing dishes. Luckily this time I didn't require stitches. Stacey's going to make me wear gloves when washing dishes from now on, and probably a helmet all the time, just to be safe. This illustrates the importance of investing in decent glassware. Of course, I'm happy with plastic, mostly, with the occasional really nice glass that I'm very careful when using or washing.

Nothing else too new. I spent way too much time today piecing together a big ol' post for the Vagrant Cafe. One of my semi-goals is to stay out of huge debates and arguments over there, but I don't think this qualifies.

Found out a former roommate got in trouble for forgery. Same one as is suspected for stealing my computer. Is it wrong that sometimes I get weird and search around to find out if people got in more trouble yet?

Last update I shared a few links. I forgot that those wouldn't carry over to the LJ and Vagrant Cafe versions. So here you go again. Also, thanks for the compliment on the poem.

PopMatters Writers On Music Shopping - Very Enjoyable set of pieces on what's fun, lovely, terrible and necessary about the physical (and mental) act of shopping for music.
http://www.popmatters.com/music/features/shopping2004/index.shtml

American Christianity: Incredible Lightness of Being by Dick Staub
http://dickstaub.com/culturewatch.php?record_id=758

One of the founders of Matthew 25 House, a homeless shelter in Akron, Ohio, describes his mission and its underlying ethos.
http://www.incommunion.org/joemay.htm

Winter storms are underway, they say
bury us, bury us.
Shortest lines at the supermarket,
bury us, bury us.
Water, firewater, cat food, junk food,
discount Christmas candy,
mashed potatoes, off-brand soup,
chunky stew, chunky peanut butter,
chunky salsa, chunky vodka,
bury us, bury us.

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Supposedly we might get up to a foot of snow in the next day or so. I actually prefer that to the past two days' ice drizzle droppings. Our downhill street is nothing but ice, and people with better tires than ours spun and stuck all early morning. My shovel's out and waiting.

Rather than deluge you with more of my own blatherings (this jurblogurinal should turn me beet red, but the Internet removes all shame), today's a big Link Day. Hope you enjoy something.

PopMatters Writers On Music Shopping - Very Enjoyable set of pieces on what's fun, lovely, terrible and necessary about the physical (and mental) act of shopping for music.

American Christianity: Incredible Lightness of Being by Dick Staub

One of the founders of Matthew 25 House, a homeless shelter in Akron, Ohio, describes his mission and its underlying ethos.

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I hate to be a meme lemming, but this particularly piques my interest. Thanks to my former roommate Dean "BRRR, it's 50 Degrees here in L.A. and I'm going to have to put on pants to deal with it" McEmoPants for posting it in his LJ.

Dan Curtis Johnson, on LJ as crisper, says:---
A few months ago, I had a dream in which LiveJournal and everyone on it went completely nuts for a day. The entire world had turned upside-down and inside-out and nobody was their normal self anymore. And it was such a good read, that I think it should happen for real. January 27th is the birthday of Lewis Carroll, author of ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND. Alice fell down a rabbit hole into a place where everything had changed and none of the rules could be counted on to apply anymore. I say, let's do the same: January 27th, 2005 should be the First Annual LiveJournal Rabbit Hole Day. When you post on that Thursday, instead of the normal daily life and work and news and politics, write about the strange new world you have found yourself in for the day, with its strange new life and work and news and politics. Are your pets talking back at you now? Has your child suddenly grown to full adulthood? Does everyone at work think you're someone else now? Did Bush step down from the White House to become a pro-circuit tap-dancer? Did Zoroastrian missionaries show up on your doorstep with literature in 3-D? Have you been placed under house arrest by bizarre insectoid women wielding clubs made of lunchmeat?Let's have a day where nobody's life makes sense anymore, where any random LJ you click on will bring you some strange new tale. Let's all fall down the Rabbit Hole for 24 hours and see what's there. It will be beautiful.For consideration: this only works if you spread the word, of course, but three and a half weeks is forever in LJ Meme Time.

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I just received notice that my place of employment is sending everyone home at 4pm, less than 20 minutes from now. Super Fortune Jackpot Swing Dig.

January 3 means break is over, back to work, back to school next week. Flannery the cat appeared to be pretty happy about us going back to work. She enjoyed the first few days of Christmas break but grew tired of us screwing up her nap schedule and disturbing her during outside-watching times. This past weekend she seemed to be purposefully mischievous, knocking over my waterglass 5 times last night, sporting more than the usual attitude.
Break was good. Despite not getting a whole lot of writing done, I did get to spend quite a bit of time with my wonderful wife, something we don't always get during the regular semesters. We do generally make time to just hang out and talk even during the work week, but extra time is great. She's becoming more and more interested and knowledgeable in feminism and "women's studies," as they call it at universities, and might end up majoring in that on top of her special education degree. I absolutely love this...she's wonderfully intelligent and this lets her exercise that -- education programs don't necessarily flex that particular muscle. While she absolutely loves working with the mentally challenged (insert joke here about our marriage), quite a bit of the system around that is suspect at best, atrocious at its worst -- and her sensitivity and intelligence put her in the position where it's going to either drive her crazy or propel her into a leadership position that might drive her even crazier, even while she does good for a ton of people all the while. I think it's great for her to explore the whole area of Women's Studies and maybe get a degree in that, because I know she'd love a job working in that realm. I love that she's reading and conversing (both with me and on message boards) about what she's learning -- my schedule and interests are deep and busy, so on top of how great this all is for her as a person and a scholar, it also is an avenue for her to enjoy while I'm doing whatever I need to do, as well. I've always been repulsed by the idea of the doting, bored housewife. I mean, S. dotes like crazy sometimes and I like that, and sure, we all get bored, but I've never wanted a wife who had no real intelligent energy being put beyond domestic issues or someone whose life has very little to enjoy and look forward to outside that which is done specifically in regards to the both of us. I absolutely love the discussions her studies bring up and her area of interest is one in which I am interested, as well, and the fact that she's learning things and passing some of them along to me is terrific since I don't really have the extra time to explore them myself. So, for us, busy is just fine most of the time. This coming semester will be especially busy for me: working 8-5, looking for a better job, 2 graduate level classes in the evenings, increased writing output, church bookstore operations and duties as the new Director of Christian Education at our church. We'll see how it all works out.

A year ago I was jobless, about to work a terrible temp job for a couple weeks. When things get close to unbearable, I just think about last January. One of my goals in the next week or so is to update my resume. No doubt the latest version is on the computer that was stolen so while only a few additions need made, I may just revamp the whole thing. If I go home early due to weather-related issues today, I'll probably work on that or a story I'm writing. Or a couple music reviews.

Yes, the weather is an issue today. Last week boasted temperatures in the 50s at least 3 days (which was super for moving Michial in) but things have slowly slunk colder. This morning we woke to freezing sleetrainslush that would've been better off snow. We live down in a valley near the river, so roads are a bit more dangerous than most other places around here and I've already decided that if things don't look much better by noon, I'm just going home. Nothing's going on at the University today, anyway, there's no real reason for me to be here this afternoon...I have this whole week to catch up on various things. We may get a big snow later on this week, so maybe we'll get lucky there, as well. The public school system in the city shut down today, which means good news for Stacey (she'll get to spend hours playing with the Sims 2 download that EA just made available this past week) and her sanity for another day. I'm pretty sure the cat's semi-furious, though.

Happy New Year to you all.