NPR and Sobriety

alcohol makes life feel relevant. Like you're being followed with a video camera. Everything feels a little more 3D. NPR also makes life feel relevant...so maybe it was the NPR. I made my self a Dr. Prauge's veggie burger while hearing about a new Hallmark card line, Journeys, for those difficult modern situations, and I vocalized my annoyance with a world that couldn't write their own damn cards. I contemplated myself a new job, writing cards, but overall couldn't understand those who can't write their own. While listening to a story on a family that moved to the remote island of fairisle in Scottland, I assembled the sandwhich, spinach, humous, tomato, burger, mayonaise and honey mustard. 70 people, and they moved to set up a bed and breakfast. Then Ira Glass came on and started expounding on the edge of the city, an x-land fill, x-lake where a man talked about remember various archtectural art being bulldozed and burried there years ago, comming and seeing beautiful pieces of art work sticking out of the ground at odd angels, and today they're all burried benneath a golf course. Buildings are importnat, destruction is depressing, people need beauty in their lives in order to survive, in order to be happy...or was it really important at all, my sense of hip determination, belief that I was destined for the NPR life began to fade a little, very little is important, a beautiful building's destruction is sad, but it's just life. Food, shelter, support, that's important, a beautiful building is just vanity, or is it? I turned it off. Too depressing really, I was getting too emotional over it. Ironcially this was coming from Chicago, and the shot glass, the 1.5 shots shot glass I had filled with apple flavored Smirnoff vodka after I put Dr. Prauge in the toaster oven, was a souvenir from Chicago, said so right on it. I shot it back, and either had a chunk of chocolate before it or after it, or both. The combination was good. Anyway, hit me pretty fast, being that my stomach was empty and it pretty much broke the fast. I'm pretty much coming down (or I guess, up as alcohol is a depressant) now. I feel much better. Like when an elephant gets off your toe. :-) At the same time, it didn't hurt except towards the end. I love sobriety. Everything feels fresher afterwards.

My cellular phone is out of commission, as yesterday I dropped it in my soup.

Today it is snowing. It's slippery out there for crutches. My converse have better traction. I need to put chains on my crutches to maneuver Harvard square.
I'm supposed to go to Buffalo tomorrow but I get the feeling that won't happen.

Yesterday I had improv after work. We had been squatting at MIT, but our instructor, Bob, discovered that MIT was throwing squatters out of 50 Vassar street, and no longer allowing non-MIT affiliated groups to loiter in their halls. So, for the evening he moved it out to his house in Wakefield.

...he never did mention that his mother lived there too.

As she sat semi-comatose watching Jeopardy, we had our class in the smoke-stained, Jesus and talking animal, vaguely homosexual magnet encrusted basement. We arrived early and the stand-up class was just finishing. My dear stand-up compatriots from Stand-Up 1, Tim and Dan, were in attendance. Tim was just going through his bit about comparing Jesus to Superman. It's a really obvious concept, but the execution is brilliant. Or at least the Romans thought so. "Superman had a girlfriend who was a report, Jesus had a hooker...who was a hooker." His whole bit's about being 30 and his attempt to hide it from everyone, "because if they find out you're 30...they...will...PERSECUTE you."

Anyway, then we had class. It was classy. Or the opposite of classy. We learned some good games. The only one that stands out is The Monster Off Stage. Basically you'd start by having two characters talk about a third, and his bizarre quirks. When he showed up, he'd have to display those quirks, then leave again, get a new quirk, and have to display the two quirks, etc.

Highlights included:
Aaron as the annoying kid on the ride at Disney, while Skippy played Cinderella, and Sue was the ride controller. Aaron picked his nose by choice, and had to pull skippy's pony tail, play an oil can like it was a piano and cry everytime you mentioned his mom. :-) I especially liked the way he rode off on the ride.
Skippy and Mike turning into the creatures that came from Wilma Flintstone's vomit.

The first posting

Ah a first installment. Where do you go when life hands you bad wiring? Why your local neighborhood blog to complain about what an incredible nutbag you are, and how hard it really is being you.

Our story begins as three post-college aged youngsters haul up in the second story of a house in Somerville MA, in a hip and trendy Zion called Davis Square. Our land lord is the honorable Jay Carr of the Boston Globe. He keeps the apartment downstairs, and fills it with globs of hollywood goobeldy-guck.

Yes, how will a quirky, oatmeal cookie of a computer science ph.d. student, a lecturing aspiring military pilot and a lost-in-transition wannabe film maker cope with the struggles of daily life?

Well 1.5 years later we're all single and tomorrow's valentine's day. We're all going to see Casablanca at the Brattle with a bunch of our KuhWAZY but lovable friends. But what dark secrets does this outting hide? Only time will tell.

Today I'm working at The Harvard Law School Program on International Financial Systems. OOOOOOOH. :-P Tonight, Improv. Tomorrow THE WORLD.

Oh, and I miss Christopher. ::shrug:: These things happen.