Cleaning the apartment, I stumbled on a Brookings Institute article on nuclear war in South Asia that I'd forgotten about. I carried it out to the living room and put it on the coffee table so I can read it later. My roommate noticed this and told me to stop being so fucking pretentious. No one that comes here seems to read anything but the Playboy or Barely Legal anyway.

God, Clerks is on IFC again. I think I've seen this more than Breakfast Club by now.

I really love the rain. It just sucks when I have to travel to work in it.

This is some odd spam:

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The public demanded sharply that the seas should at any price be relieved from this formidable cetacean. The narwhal seemed motionless; perhaps, tired with its day's work, it slept, letting itself float with the undulation of the waves. had been violently agitated? "The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us!!!

You will swallow some tacks. You are a little
weird, maybe not so much in a good way. Buy a
yellow tie and wear it on your head.


What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
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That quake in the Indian Ocean was so strong it disturbed the earth's rotation.

Sometimes people really surprise me. I thought I was totally jaded.

California is more populous than Canada.

"What kind of peace do I mean? What kind of peace do we seek? Not a Pax Americana enforced on the world by American weapons of war. Not the peace of the grave or the security of the slave. I am talking about genuine peace, the kind of peace that makes life on earth worth living, the kind that enables men and nations to grow and to hope and to build a better life for their children -- not merely peace for Americans but peace for all men and women -- not merely peace in our time but peace for all time. I speak of peace because of the new face of war. Total war makes no sense in an age when great powers can maintain large and relatively invulnerable nuclear forces and refuse to surrender without resort to those forces. It makes no sense in an age when a single nuclear weapon contains almost ten times the explosive force delivered by 11 of the Allied air forces in the Second World War. It makes no sense in an age when the deadly poisons produced by a nuclear exchange would be carried by wind and water and soil and seed to the far corners of the globe and to generations yet unborn."

-JFK 6/10/63

I should have stopped for a bagel and coffee on my way in to work; if I'd been able to find someplace open that is.

My friend Chuck loaned me a soup cookbook that really rocks. It's called Twelve Months of Monastery Soups and it's written by a monk. The recipes are almost all vegetarian, and those that aren't can be changed to be vegetarian. I just made some kale, bean, tomato soup and a mushroom, potato, garlic one. Both are really grub and I have enough to last all week. The piggies get no kale, unfortunately, since I used it all for the soup.

Happy solstice. Or Yule if you swing that way.

The Mercury article I bitched about

My rant

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet."

Or something.

So France launches the Helios II A and 6 smaller satellites and China helps track them across the sky. Ever get the feeling you’re out of the loop? France and China as allies would leave us in one fucked position if anything really bad happened.

menja bé, caga fort!

I'm published. Page 14 of this week's Mercury.

From Wikipedia:

"In 2004, the EPA rated the San Bernardino-Riverside area as having the worst particulate air pollution in the United States (although the San Joaquin Valley in central California had the worst overall air pollution)."

No wonder I'm so fucked up (Bakersfield is in the San Joaquin Valley, if you didn't know.)

I’ve had Three Lortabs, some Pringles, and a Pepsi and I’m still not quite ready for the day. What the hell happened this week? My last post was last Sunday so either I haven’t done anything or I was too fucking busy to write about it. I don’t remember doing much on Monday or Tuesday, but I had to work those days so what could I have done? Wednesday, I got a ride to Pet Smart and Lee’s. We got a huge back of guinea pig litter and about $80 worth of booze. I thought Pet Smart was closing at 9pm, but my ride didn’t IM me till about 9:10. She’d found out it was open late for the holidays so we were lucky. Why would a pet store be open late for the holidays? Buying a pet for Christmas seems really lame to me. I think buying a pet should be a more deliberate act rather than some spurious “I want a pony” thing. Buy a pet only after talking about it and making sure your kid can take care of it. (That reminds me, I still have to change my pigs’ litter!) We made it to Lee’s (which also closes at 10) just before closing. I usually just stock up on Newcastle since it’s so cheap there. If I were to grab too much else I’d be broke quick. I did get some wine (two bottles of Australian Shiraz and one merlot,) a bottle of Framboise, a bottle of Old Growler, and a 12 pack of Honey Brown for Ian. My ride picked up a tiny bottle of Belvedere vodka for some strange reason. I guess it’s intended for decoration. Paying $4 for a shot of vodka seems harsh to me, even if it’s good vodka and only intended for decoration. I guess it’ll look good in the Barbie mansion or something. Back home, we split the Framboise and she took out my piggies. I don’t know what it is about women and pets. They start making high pitched squeals and speaking in baby-talk while they cuddle small mammals. Perhaps it’s the mother instinct or something; but my roommate does it too. I threw on the television for some background noise. I didn’t feel like putting on a film, even though we need to finish watching Say Anything. AbFab came on BBC America. I’ve seen every episode so many times, even if I lost the box set in the separation agreement; I’ve still got them memorized. Surprisingly, my company had never seen it before. I wonder how much of my media saturation is due to my age. She isn’t that much younger than I am, but still. The next day, Danielle came over and we shared some of the Shiraz. I wonder about women again; this time not about squealing over small furry animals but about wine. Why do women prefer wine, cider, etc. over simple beer or liquor? I know, beer is fattening and liquor can be difficult to drink. Whatever, we drink Shiraz. She leaves with Ian for some Thai food. I decline their invitation. Kathy was coming over and I didn’t feel like trying Thai food anyway. Kathy and I have some more of the wine then head to the Dispensary on Tropicana and Eastern for a customer appreciation holiday celebration. Open bar and a buffet for two hours. We stay for a cocktail and I have some mashed potatoes and a roll. It was a simple buffet so that was the only vegetarian stuff that I felt like eating. The whiskey sour I got was as strong as I’d make it at home. I’d never been in there before, but I think I’ll go back at some point. Kathy says she goes for chicken wings on occasion. It seems like an older crowd, but who knows what it’s like on the weekends. I’m so lazy I normally just wind up at Cheers since it’s the closest. I forget that Favorites, the Dispensary, Play of the Day, Moose’s, and the rest are even around. Although, apart from the Frog I don’t think I’d like the other bars. After that, Ian and I went to Sacrilege. I wound up getting drugged out of my head and making a fool out of myself yet again, but my friends took care of me. Sometimes I wish they’d tell me I’m being an ass or that I look ridiculous rather than just take care of me. It might make me stop being so out of it. Somehow I managed to make it to work the next day, I don’t know how I’m still able to function after all I put my body through. Of course the bus was late. I think that happens just to spite me; on the days that it takes the most strength to not call in sick or late, the bus doesn’t show up. To make up for the abuse a bit, I only had two beers last night. I wound up crashing on the couch under a sleeping bag with the television on. Ian came stumbling in at around 3:30 or 4. Relationship problems drove him from Cheers to a titty bar. His voice was too loud for me (as it often is, I don’t think he hears himself) so I grabbed the sleeping bag and went to bed. Since I’d fallen asleep sometime between 1 and 2, I had a rather leisurely sleep. I sort of woke up at around 6 or 7, sweating under the sleeping bag. I really need to buy one, they’re so warm. It reminded me of being under Melissa’s blankets in Santa Cruz. The morning light diffused by coastal fog and clouds, the huge pile of soft, warm blankets over two nude bodies and the improvised huge bed (two twin extra-longs pushed together after she got a free upgrade to a “super single” when her roommate went psycho.) She asked me how I didn’t suffocate when I pulled all the blankets over me to blot out the light. I don’t quite understand it myself; I just don’t like the sunlight, especially when I’m in bed. I think when I get a few extra dollars I’m going to buy some better bedding.

I really want to go home.

Last night as I was walking home from Cheers, some gutless turd threw an almost full beer out of a car and nailed me in the chest. Fucking savages.

A really gay quote from All That Heaven Allows:

Cary [Jane Wyman]: "That's what Mick learned from you, isn't it?"

Ron[Rock Hudson]: "No. You can't learn that from anybody. Mick discovered for himself that he had to make his own decisions—that he had to be a man."

Cary: "And you want me to be a man."

Ron: "Only in that one way."

Now which way is that, Mr. Hudson?

I just wrote my first letter to the editor. I sent it to the Mercury about an article in this week's edition, "87 Days on the Bus". Go read it then read my response. I haven't written much in quite some time, so please excuse the shitty style.

Only 87 days on the bus? I’ve been riding the bus in
Las Vegas since I moved here from California in July
2000 and I’ve got some comments about Mr. Biggs’
article.

Taking the bus everyday, you get a better feel for
traffic and the city itself, I think. You notice the
movement of police and emergency vehicles as you’re
waiting for your transfer. When your bus is late due
to an accident you usually find out why. You see
those old guys in yellow vests soliciting for
donations to some “charity” when you’re in a car, but
do you see their bags stashed behind some bushes on
the corner? (What a great scam.) The only positive
thing Mr. Biggs has to note isn’t positive at all!
You aren’t always the best looking person on the bus.
Not all of the “transportation dependant” are
toothless and smelly. I’m 29 and have been riding the
bus my entire life. I have all my teeth, have to dress
business casual for work, and I have a degree in
Literature. While riding the bus was easier when I
was going to UCSC, Vegas’ system is better than most
other places I’ve lived. Here, some lines are 24
hours, and all of them run on Sunday. Try finding
that in California (outside of the Bay Area, of
course.) Waiting for the bus is worth it not to have
to worry about maintenance, insurance, registration,
gas, trying not to get into accidents, etc. Plus you
don’t pollute as much riding the bus. This “act of
submission” is no larger an act than crawling into
that cage Mr. Biggs misses so much. How much do you
plunk down in insurance every month? How much is your
car payment? Gas? Maintenance? It will only be when
people no longer consider the bus the “ride of last
resort” that cities like Las Vegas and the other huge
western sprawls will start to become real
cosmopolitan, international places where everyone can
live and work instead of redneck podunks like Barstow
where one needs a car in order to do anything. Who
knows, you might even get to meet you neighbors and
cut down on smog!

The bus isn’t all peaches and cream, of course. There
will always be pungent bums and loud, uncared for
children; that’s a microcosm of any city, anywhere.
Getting to Trader Joe’s and the Regal Sunset Station
Theater takes me over 2 hours sometimes. I’m late to
work from time to time. If I need to buy a large
amount of groceries it’s a bit of a drag (but now I
just have them delivered, anyway. Gotta love the
Internet.) In the time I’ve been riding the bus here,
I’ve seen two dead pedestrians (run over while jay
walking across Flamingo between Maryland and Spencer,
I assume) and one guy that got shot by LVPD on
Flamingo and the Strip. Well, you'd probably have
seen them if you were driving so I don't think that
counts. Once, a woman started yelling at me, “What
are you some kinda faggot?” and, noticing that I had a
bag of chips began demanding “Give some of your chips,
faggot!” I moved to the front of the bus and hoped
she’d exit before I did. She didn’t but I still
managed to slip away. Here I thought fag bashing was
passé. But that could have happened in San Jose (just
look at what happened to Gwen Araujo) or any other
metropolis, on or off the bus, so blame human nature
and not our bus system.

To sum up, your cages own you as much as you own them.
Your commute time might be shorter but what you trade
it for isn’t worth it to me. I’m glad someone turned
to the bus in a time of need, but don’t think that
that is all the bus is good for.
Only 87 days on the bus? I’ve been riding the bus in
Las Vegas since I moved here from California in July
2000 and I’ve got some comments about Mr. Biggs’
article.

Taking the bus everyday, you get a better feel for
traffic and the city itself, I think. You notice the
movement of police and emergency vehicles as you’re
waiting for your transfer. When your bus is late due
to an accident you usually find out why. You see
those old guys in yellow vests soliciting for
donations to some “charity” when you’re in a car, but
do you see their bags stashed behind some bushes on
the corner? (What a great scam.) The only positive
thing Mr. Biggs has to note isn’t positive at all!
You aren’t always the best looking person on the bus.
Not all of the “transportation dependant” are
toothless and smelly. I’m 29 and have been riding the
bus my entire life. I have all my teeth, have to dress
business casual for work, and I have a degree in
Literature. While riding the bus was easier when I
was going to UCSC, Vegas’ system is better than most
other places I’ve lived. Here, some lines are 24
hours, and all of them run on Sunday. Try finding
that in California (outside of the Bay Area, of
course.) Waiting for the bus is worth it not to have
to worry about maintenance, insurance, registration,
gas, trying not to get into accidents, etc. Plus you
don’t pollute as much riding the bus. This “act of
submission” is no larger an act than crawling into
that cage Mr. Biggs misses so much. How much do you
plunk down in insurance every month? How much is your
car payment? Gas? Maintenance? It will only be when
people no longer consider the bus the “ride of last
resort” that cities like Las Vegas and the other huge
western sprawls will start to become real
cosmopolitan, international places where everyone can
live and work instead of redneck podunks like Barstow
where one needs a car in order to do anything. Who
knows, you might even get to meet you neighbors and
cut down on smog!

The bus isn’t all peaches and cream, of course. There
will always be pungent bums and loud, uncared for
children; that’s a microcosm of any city, anywhere.
Getting to Trader Joe’s and the Regal Sunset Station
Theater takes me over 2 hours sometimes. I’m late to
work from time to time. If I need to buy a large
amount of groceries it’s a bit of a drag (but now I
just have them delivered, anyway. Gotta love the
Internet.) In the time I’ve been riding the bus here,
I’ve seen two dead pedestrians (run over while jay
walking across Flamingo between Maryland and Spencer,
I assume) and one guy that got shot by LVPD on
Flamingo and the Strip. Well, you'd probably have
seen them if you were driving so I don't think that
counts. Once, a woman started yelling at me, “What
are you some kinda faggot?” and, noticing that I had a
bag of chips began demanding “Give some of your chips,
faggot!” I moved to the front of the bus and hoped
she’d exit before I did. She didn’t but I still
managed to slip away. Here I thought fag bashing was
passé. But that could have happened in San Jose (just
look at what happened to Gwen Araujo) or any other
metropolis, on or off the bus, so blame human nature
and not our bus system.

To sum up, your cages own you as much as you own them.
Your commute time might be shorter but what you trade
it for isn’t worth it to me. I’m glad someone turned
to the bus in a time of need, but don’t think that
that is all the bus is good for.

I really should get to the Guggenheim soon. There's a Kandinsky gallery and a Keith Haring exhibit. It's not much of a museum but I should catch what little I can.

All That Heaven Allows is on. Normally I wouldn't sit through some mid-50s Jane Wyman/Rock Hudson crap but Fassbinder based Angst essen Seele auf on it. It's fun to queer anything with Rock in it. The acting is more solid than I thought it would be. One funny line, as the mother comes from changing into a cute red cocktail dress, her daughter exclaims, "Oh, it's so about time you dropped that depressing black velvet!" I've been told that once or twice (thankyouverymuch Mel).

What the hell is wrong with Ohio? I mean really, who would want to shoot someone as useless as Dimebag Darrell?!?

Sundance is playing a Fassbinder film and I'm too brain dead to watch it. I feel like a failure somehow.

The apartment complex sent some people out to replace the carpet padding today. They're ripping everything apart and putting it back together again. I'm glad I didn't see this crap while there was still standing water. This sucks, all I want to do is lay down and relax.

I am not having a good day. The apartment flooded. I'm so lucky, my vinyl was in the path of destruction but thanks to my careful packing and the plastic covers they came out unscathed.

From Catcher in the Rye

"That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write "Fuck you" right under your nose."

I'm a dork. I bought some Mountain Dew Code Black and some Blackjack gum at the gas station on Pecos and Flamingo while waiting for the Pecos bus. Once on board, I started finishing Ghost World. I was so distracted that I got off the bus at the wrong stop. At least it was still close enough to work that I wasn't late.

God, my gmail account is already getting spam. I've only given it to two people who sent me some pictures.

I'm rereading Daniel Clowes' Ghost World graphic novel. It's so much better than the film. I feel like I’m 14 or something, using kitsch and thrift-store to disguise a lack of money and imagination. Clowes points the finger at scenesters and says, “you’re just as shallow as everyone you make fun of.”

Went out last night. Some of my friends were spinning at the Boston. Someone managed to get an alternative night going there. 80s/goth/ebm/industrial/synthpop/whatever playing on one side and 60s/indie/emo/garage/whatever on the other. I didn’t want to leave the apartment when I got home from work, but my roommate was already dressed and about to leave. I initially said I wouldn’t go but I guess I started to get a little lonely. Another night of drinking beer and playing Knights of the Old Republic didn’t seem too exciting. I was chatting with a friend on AIM and she said she’d go too. Grr. Of course we wound up going. It was a bit of a reunion. The usuals from Sanctuary’s long ago past were there. Jenny, the friend that came with, didn’t dance at all since she didn’t wear the right shoes. I’m sure she’ll wear boots next time. At least she didn’t mind holding my coat while I danced my silly little ass off.

It seemed that there were more bums sleeping on the ground than usual today. I wonder what drives that cycle. The full moon was over a week ago so it's not that. Perhaps they were kicked out of jail due to overcrowding? Psych wards? Shelters? Who knows.

Reading some stuff about Sid Vicious, I came across a poem he wrote for Nancy. It's so pathetic and honest it's making me cry.

"You were my little baby girl,
I knew all your fears.
Such joy to hold you in my arms
and kiss away your tears.
But now you're gone, there's only pain
and nothing I can do.
And I don't want to live this life,
If I can't live for you."