gimme saturday
I've been overwhelmed as a human being for the past two weeks. There is just a lot of stuff going on in the day-job realm of the Bungleverse and everything, including this here e-log, has taken a backseat.
That's not an excuse, just a fact.
Among my many other admirable traits, I realize that I have an enormous capacity for getting wrapped up in my own bullshit and failing to care about others. For instance, a colleague was recently in the hospital, and I was too worried about all my own crap to call or visit him. I kept telling myself I was going to do it, and by the time I got around to it, he was out already. Terrible.
I am also a lousy finisher. I like taking tasks within one small effort of conclusion, then shelving them and watching my stress slowly build.
Oh, and I like coming up with ideas for righteous good-hearted thoughtful things I need to do and then slowly abandoning them over the course of a few weeks.
I'm also a loud typist.
Did I mention vacillating between bursts of intense self-confidence and long periods of total self-doubt? I do that. With much more self-doubt now that I don't drink much anymore.
In the old days, you got a couple beers in me and you'd find yourself talking to one confident-ass motherfucker. What a joy I must have been to be around.
My college friends are gathering in Chicago this weekend and I won't be there. Maybe that's why I feel old and weak. When important people gather in Chicago, you need to be there. Fellas, take some pictures and talk about me for at least ten minutes. And exchange a few verbal high-fives.
I was watching the TV channels and I saw an ad for one of these chat line numbers you're supposed to call, and all the people on the ad were women of the bimbo variety. And I thought to myself, "Why should I call this number? What would we really have to talk about?"
It would be cooler if the ads featured a bunch of dudes with pot-bellies, wearing Replacements T-shirts, sitting on the phone in cruddy little bedrooms with John Starks posters visible in the background.
At work today I started thinking about how much I've failed to stick to my own STFU credo lately, how I've been running my mouth fast and wide in all sorts of inappropriate ways. Mostly trying to tell people what they want to hear. Trying to manipulate conversations and people towards my own pathetic ends.
At least once I realized this afternoon how little I've been STFU, I STFU a bit. It takes intense concentration though.
You gave me some good if limited advice on the what-to-sees in Munich, now I turn to you again for more help. Please recommend a couple books I can read over there. They don't have to be Germany-related. I have been reading Motherless Brooklyn but to be honest it's pretty fucking boring and I may abandon it. I think the guy's a good writer, but the whole narrator-with-Tourette's thing I find showy and highly annoying. How about a compelling fucking plot instead? That would be nice, especially in a detective story. Anyway, give me a couple books to read, preferably relatively new paperbacks, fiction, and if they're about coming of age in the 1970s suburbs, all the better. Anybody read this Crossing California book? If I knew more about Chicago I might give it a shot. When it comes out in paperback.
My iPod freaked out on me a little bit today. I think I may have pressed a button too long or something, but I got stuck in a bunch of diagnostic screens, the last of which required me to plug into a firewire connection. I didn't have one with me, so that screen just stayed up until the battery died. Couldn't escape. Seems to be OK now.
BA got the Mario Batali third of the Chandelierdat challenge. The other two names we were looking for were Jimmy Fallon and Lars Ullrich (who, it should be reported, "wasn't really drinking").
I've been watching a lot of mindless TV lately in an effort to relax. Unfortunately, even though we have like 15 movie channels and they actually show quite a few good movies, I am never in front of the TV when the movie is starting, so I don't end up watching any of the new ones. Instead I tune in in the middle of movies I've seen 12 times and I watch them through to the end anyway. Midnight Run holds up very well, btw. And I love The Last Waltz. I was watching it last night and there was a scene where Scorsese is interviewing Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson, and they both have unlit cigarettes. Helm is in the middle of a story, and he slowly, almost unconsciously, gets out a match, lights Robertson's cigarette and then his own without missing a beat. It was just a really sweet moment. Hard to believe those guys hate each other now. Here's today's 12 point, non-googling, old movie Genius Challenge: Who is the only actor to appear in both Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction AND survive both movies?
That's not an excuse, just a fact.
Among my many other admirable traits, I realize that I have an enormous capacity for getting wrapped up in my own bullshit and failing to care about others. For instance, a colleague was recently in the hospital, and I was too worried about all my own crap to call or visit him. I kept telling myself I was going to do it, and by the time I got around to it, he was out already. Terrible.
I am also a lousy finisher. I like taking tasks within one small effort of conclusion, then shelving them and watching my stress slowly build.
Oh, and I like coming up with ideas for righteous good-hearted thoughtful things I need to do and then slowly abandoning them over the course of a few weeks.
I'm also a loud typist.
Did I mention vacillating between bursts of intense self-confidence and long periods of total self-doubt? I do that. With much more self-doubt now that I don't drink much anymore.
In the old days, you got a couple beers in me and you'd find yourself talking to one confident-ass motherfucker. What a joy I must have been to be around.
My college friends are gathering in Chicago this weekend and I won't be there. Maybe that's why I feel old and weak. When important people gather in Chicago, you need to be there. Fellas, take some pictures and talk about me for at least ten minutes. And exchange a few verbal high-fives.
I was watching the TV channels and I saw an ad for one of these chat line numbers you're supposed to call, and all the people on the ad were women of the bimbo variety. And I thought to myself, "Why should I call this number? What would we really have to talk about?"
It would be cooler if the ads featured a bunch of dudes with pot-bellies, wearing Replacements T-shirts, sitting on the phone in cruddy little bedrooms with John Starks posters visible in the background.
At work today I started thinking about how much I've failed to stick to my own STFU credo lately, how I've been running my mouth fast and wide in all sorts of inappropriate ways. Mostly trying to tell people what they want to hear. Trying to manipulate conversations and people towards my own pathetic ends.
At least once I realized this afternoon how little I've been STFU, I STFU a bit. It takes intense concentration though.
You gave me some good if limited advice on the what-to-sees in Munich, now I turn to you again for more help. Please recommend a couple books I can read over there. They don't have to be Germany-related. I have been reading Motherless Brooklyn but to be honest it's pretty fucking boring and I may abandon it. I think the guy's a good writer, but the whole narrator-with-Tourette's thing I find showy and highly annoying. How about a compelling fucking plot instead? That would be nice, especially in a detective story. Anyway, give me a couple books to read, preferably relatively new paperbacks, fiction, and if they're about coming of age in the 1970s suburbs, all the better. Anybody read this Crossing California book? If I knew more about Chicago I might give it a shot. When it comes out in paperback.
My iPod freaked out on me a little bit today. I think I may have pressed a button too long or something, but I got stuck in a bunch of diagnostic screens, the last of which required me to plug into a firewire connection. I didn't have one with me, so that screen just stayed up until the battery died. Couldn't escape. Seems to be OK now.
BA got the Mario Batali third of the Chandelierdat challenge. The other two names we were looking for were Jimmy Fallon and Lars Ullrich (who, it should be reported, "wasn't really drinking").
I've been watching a lot of mindless TV lately in an effort to relax. Unfortunately, even though we have like 15 movie channels and they actually show quite a few good movies, I am never in front of the TV when the movie is starting, so I don't end up watching any of the new ones. Instead I tune in in the middle of movies I've seen 12 times and I watch them through to the end anyway. Midnight Run holds up very well, btw. And I love The Last Waltz. I was watching it last night and there was a scene where Scorsese is interviewing Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson, and they both have unlit cigarettes. Helm is in the middle of a story, and he slowly, almost unconsciously, gets out a match, lights Robertson's cigarette and then his own without missing a beat. It was just a really sweet moment. Hard to believe those guys hate each other now. Here's today's 12 point, non-googling, old movie Genius Challenge: Who is the only actor to appear in both Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction AND survive both movies?
posted by hans q. bungle at 01:14
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