Feminist, artist, spazz, sketch comedian, progressive asshole. Hi there.
It took me years, but I finally like My Morning Jacket. I don’t know what happened. Maybe I grew old enough to appreciate their gentleness. Maybe I finally gave them enough of a shot to grow on me. But their new album is quite all right. Listen to it on NPR.org/music if you wanna.
Other things that are getting me through this week:
1. Memories of my friend Hot Dog’s wedding to his lovely K. Most fun I’ve had in years.
2. Leinie’s Summer Shandy is out for sale again.
3. I started a new painting that I actually dig. That probably means nobody else will, but who the fuck cares?
4. It was sunny here for almost two days. Cold, but still sunny.
5. Ivan Brunetti’s horrifyingly awful but terribly clever and fun-to-look-at comics/illustrations.
6. A severe addiction to Mario Kart for Wii.
7. The cutest toddler nephew a human could ever hope for.
Things I’m sick of and hope disappear from my view soon:
1. Women who drag everyone they know into their divorces. Seriously, I just discarded yet another friend for making me pretend to give a rat’s ass about her marital problems (I don’t care if that sounds cold, either. Fuck you.) while completely losing her mind and beginning to stalk me. That’s two now. I will not tolerate a third. A third will cause me to commit myself to an insane asylum just so I can hide from the people I no longer care to speak to. It isn’t that I’m mean—it’s that personal problems should really remain personal, and I consider your marriage to be pretty fucking personal.
2. Hipster costumes. Seriously, folks. I can’t look at you wearing ensembles created entirely from my fourth grade closet anymore. It’s fucking embarrassing, and nobody needs to wear that much neon. Also, I bet your ankles would love to have the circulation back. Loosen those jean cuffs.
3. Inflammatory joint flares. Seriously, I have the knees, ankles, and wrists of a 90-year-old who’s just been hit by a bulldozer this week, and it really, really sucks.
4. The doomsday-like tactics of the GOP. But that’s fodder for someone else’s blog.
5. Cancer. I’d like to stop hearing about cancer. And I would appreciate it if it would kindly stop killing my friends, okay?
All right, now I’m depressed. I really should’ve started this entry with the shit I don’t like and followed up with the shit I do like. But I do everything backwards, so, there.
Well, well. That was my last Homegrown Music Festival. At least in that capacity.
In Duluth, once a year, during the first week of May, we throw a weeklong party celebrating the creativity of our citizens. There’s live music every night, all over town. Just shy of 200 bands play per year, and many are turned away. There are art shows, film festivals, and other weird shit goes on all week long. It’s mostly about the music, but let’s face it, it’s about the art and the drinking and the camaraderie, too. Historically, it’s been a fun week most years.
This year, I don’t really know what happened. I took the week off of work so as to soak in all the fun I could, as I knew my willingness to partake in the festivities would only continue to dwindle as my hair continued to gray and my energy continued to head south.
I can’t seem to form and maintain a habit of writing on this thing. Mostly because I don’t really have much of anything to say anymore. I’m becoming so misanthropic and surmounted with disdain for humanity that everything I say is loaded with negativity and anger. Someday soon, I’ll reach an age where I don’t give a shit if what I have to say pisses you off. I’m just not there yet.
So, in an effort to remain active in my blogging, I’ll give you, dear reader, an update on what I’ve been up to and how that makes me feel. Here goes somethin’…
Sucks. But at least I have a job.
I keep toying with the idea of running my own business. Frankly, I’m sick of busting my ass for no pay FOR SOMEONE ELSE. If I have to work like this and not make what I’m worth, I may as well be my own boss. So I’ve got it narrowed down to two things: Butcher/Cheesemaker, and Art Gallery Owner. I’m trying to figure out if there’s a way to do both. In the same building. In the same storefront. Is that weird? I like meat. I like cheese. I like art. I’d like to do all of those things well and package them in a cute shop.
My sister, nephew, mom, and dad all left me here in the cold and rain to visit family in San Diego. I’m jealous as fuck. Someday I hope to make enough money to afford to join them. Today is not that day.
…for some odd reason, I really want the world to honk my boobies. Or motorboat them. And my midwestern sensibilities make me ashamed of this urge.