yeah, i stole'em. naw, i mean, i took'em. i don't give a fuck, man. it's an old candy factory. you think they really care? you think they ain't got another sixteen tons of those things, loaded in the back of a truck somewhere, sitting around, gathering dirt and rust and all crawling with spiders? so i took'em. i got my wrench out of my backpack and a hammer and a screwdriver and i went to work.

i guess i ain't surprised the cops showed up. it was loud as fuck, and it was the middle of the night. yeah, i shoulda waited til afternoon. i thought it would be better to do under the cover of dark, see, but that didn't make sense after all. middle of the day in this neighborhood, there's all kinds of noise. no one woulda noticed. middle of the night, yeah, i bet you coulda heard it six miles down the fucking road.

so the cops show up, and i didn't even hear'em til they was right behind me, shining a flashlight over my shoulder.

"whatcha doin, red? whatcha up to there?"

so i turn around, and one of'em got his hand on my shopping cart, and the other one is the one holding the flashlight. one black guy and one white guy. what did they look like? they look like cops to me, man. beyond the uniform, they all look the same. short ones, tall ones, fat ones, skinny ones, white ones, black ones, hispanic. what do you want to know?

the black one, by my cart, he has his hand on his hip, real casual-like, the way they always do when they want to you know they're packing heat and all you've got is a hammer and a screwdriver and not even a hand to pull up your goddam pants.

of course i don't say anything back. what are you going to say back in these situations? it's not like you just got caught speeding. "yes, officer, i'm sorry officer." hope for pity? unlikely. i just look'em in the eye and hopefully give'em a little scare, without putting down the hammer or screwdriver just yet.

.

MOVING BACK TO PHOENIX WAS THE BEST DECISION EVER

WAY TO GO B AND C

tonight i called a bunch of people to share the news, picked up water and a truck to take to the border, listened to abe recording in our basement, ate delicious pitacos with preston and vegged out and binged on 30 rock.

annoying.

there is a meme growing in the press, encouraged by lots of republican/conservative thinkers, pundits, writers, and speakers:

"obama did what?! what if BUSH tried to do this?"

ignoring the juvenile nature of this invitation to argument, in many cases, bush has done the same things that obama did, in many cases. with regards to questionable nominees, there were several - i wasn't politically aware during his 2000 inauguration, but i do at least remember the harriet miers fiasco, one which should've been way more avoidable, as it dealt with the level of support of one's own party, and not the relatively private issue of backtaxes or pending grand jury indictments.

memory is short, though, and obama has had a larger problem getting his cabinet in place than seems prudent. these arguments, puerile though they may be, carry a little bit of water - although i'd argue in return that the press has certainly been critical of obama's choices.

the wall street journal's attempt to cry foul at obama's method for calling on reporters is ridiculous, though. are they really going to try and compare obama's pre-list of reporters he wants to call on with bush's numerous exclusionary tactics?

he didn't call on helen thomas for three years, for starters. then, there was the infamous republican-hired, soft-ball-throwing, reporter-cum-gay-male-escort Jeff Gannon (nee James Dale Guckert). (if you haven't read up on this story, i strongly encourage you to do so - if it weren't so sad, it'd be hilarious)

i could go into extensive detail about the bush administration's gutting of foia and flagrant disrespect for public records law and honest reporting in general, but i frankly don't feel like expending the energy.

finally, the practice of picking which reporters you want to ask first is hardly pre-screening. there is a limited amount of press passes given, and there is already an arduous process to go through to get one (a process that the illustrious Bush White House circumvented to get Gannon in). all presidents "pre-screen" reporters out of necessity.

this wall street journal article is disappointing - they are usually a respectable voice for conservativism, and i hope they don't devolve into fox news lite.

back.

the overbearing gravity of the death of one who is close to us completely outweighs our ability to express anything of comparable significance, comfort, or meaning, and reminds us of the tragic shortfalls of relationships expressed in the terms of objective language.

got word on sunday that a friend of mine - and a very close friend of the no more deaths program - died this weekend. i haven't really talked to anyone about it yet, aside from corinne, laura, and steve, because i don't know what to say about it. just like when brant and jason died, talking about a death and then continuing to talk about other things leaves me numb and feeling generaly dissonant with my surroundings. i'll probably have a few drinks tonight and ramble about it in one forum of conversation or another.

on a completely different note: i want to start a band with all my friends.

also, i'm going to continue updating this, i think. not every day, though. i've started a journal for that. it makes me sad that i didn't do more to write over my year in chicago. i wrote a grand total of one-and-a-half songs in the entire year, didn't write any prose, or do any journalist-y type stuff either. yay depression! meanwhile, in the few months i've been back in phoenix, i've written eight new songs, published an article, and started three short stories. i'm starting to get an itch to take photographs again, too. yay ranch market!

august 12 2008

I AM THE BOGGLE CHAMPION

argued with the fam about whether or not people who shoot holes in the water tanks in the desert are murderers or not.  i say they are.  if you know thirsty people will be slogging through an area, and you shoot holes in containers full of water that could save their lives, how are you not a murderer?  family focused on all sorts of rationalizations for their actions, but the fact remains that they would be responsible for someone's death.

august 11 2008

mexican/carribean restaurant in asheville, salsa's?

best food ever.  seriously.

if i ever move somewhere new (unlikely), it will be asheville.

everyone says "hello."

every business seems local.

it's insular in that portland sort of way without being insular in that lincoln park/wicker park kind of way.  hippies, punks, social justice-y folks all hanging out together, the way it should be, yanno?

also, weird that the first time i went to asheville it was almost exactly four years ago to see this bike is a pipe bomb play outside of a warehouse... this summer, i borrow rymodee from tbiapb's amp to play a show in chicago!  small world.

august 10 2008

my mom is the best boggle player in the universe
the board spelled out "fuck," "slut," and "dick" today, we had a good laugh about those.