Starfucker, like my Daddy

Well I’m a reflective mood today. It was a rather chaotic morning, with the markets still reeling somewhat from the London bombings, but it has become a quieter afternoon. I find myself without set plans for the evening, but I have a feeling that I will be going out and about…to wit, club-hopping/cristal popping…

In reference to the subject of this entry, I was walking to dinner last night w/ HI, her sister, and her mother who are all in town from Hot-lanta. We were going to Sushi Samba, and I was pontificating about the neo-con plans for Syria and being sort of a wise-ass about various apodictic truths (These Things I Believe), when HI pointed out someone she recognized. Turns out that the heavy, middle-aged white guy walking towards us was Jeff Garlin. Although HI’s sister recognized him from his appearance on Everybody Loves Raymond, I knew him far better as Jeff Green on my favorite show-of-show’s (props to Sid Caesar), Curb Your Enthusiasm. He plays Larry’s manager, and I am endless amused by his mollification of Larry and his battles with his tempestuous, and extremely foul-mouthed, wife Susie. In a somewhat uncharacteristic move for me, I decided to say hello to him. Since he was with a small group of people, I approached him politely, and told him how much of a fan I am, and how brilliant the show is. He was quite appreciative, and seemed mildly surprised at being recognized I think. I shook his hand, and we chatted briefly about how fun it is for him to play opposite Susie Essman. I was amused to hear that Larry David is quite true-to-form, character-wise; I guess I respond to his total misanthropy and lack of any mastery of social niceties…plus the show’s willingness to let Larry yell at the handicap, find humor in an incest-survivor meetings, etc. Being a tremendous starfucker, I really got-off on the meeting; it far eclipses my prior best anecdote; spilling a martini on Steve from 90210 in a bar in Las Vegas.

I finished the book I had been reading on the fall of the Shah of Iran, which was interesting both for its view on Carter Administration global-diplomacy vis-à-vis the Nixon/Kissinger Doctrine, and because the book was written from a psychoanalytic perspective of the Shah-as co-dependent to the enablement of US foreign policy/oil importation/exportation of military hardware. So I have started up reading Morphology/Semiotic of Language, because I have always been interested in the Hegelian notion of a priori word construction. And who hasn’t? Yeah, I do seem like a nerd, I admit that. Perhaps that’s why I choose to counter-balance that with my expansive and expensive/hideous collection of designer sunglasses. Or a sense of self-righteousness, with the mea cupla head-nod to my self-avowed catachresistic blogging.

Socially, things have been rather quiet. I had a date on Wednesday night; well to preface that, I took the step of posting on Craigslist. My post stuck out a bit, I think, because most everyone had posted rather explicit suppositions for sex, and so forth, while I just was looking for someone cute to make-out with. I had brought home a cute blond marine the prior weekend, with a rather charming anchor tattoo on his six-pack; I had presumed he was a marine based on the “high-and-tight.”, and he was amused when I joked that it was part of my sense of patriotism on the nation’s birthday. An attractive and shy college student replied to my Craigslist posting, and after some email exchange, we ended up hanging out and watching some Simpsons DVDs on my plasma tv. So I guess it was worth it; I was really more curious as to how such a personals platform worked. And it certainly still has the failings of other on-line exchanges, without getting into an analysis of “safe-space”, of reducing people to the component parts of age, ethnicity, hair colour, and so forth…although frankly I think that alterity is a watch-word of our “special club”, since the natural construction comes from the inclusion of those who by default have been excluded (on a sliding scale of social norms, granted). The one plus, in my opinion, is that the now-ubiquitous home computer allows one to interact with a cross-section of social backgrounds.

Ok lastly, I find myself pretty annoyed with Steve Jobs. Aside from the class-action lawsuit against Apple on behalf of various iPod nerds who found that the iPod batteries only last about 4-5 hours between charges, recently a kid in New York (or New Jersey?) was murdered for his iPod. To me that recalled the headlines of children being killed for their Air Jordans, Air Force Ones. At any rate, Jobs decides to call the parents of the victim and proffer his sympathies. To me this smacks of the most egregious bleeding-heart hand-wringing, and I find myself actually mildly angry that Jobs would dare to distract the attention of a grieving family with the obvious repercussions of a publicized call from a media mogul. Further, it is absurd hypocrisy to make a somewhat expensive product, and then be appalled that someone would go to insane lengths to acquire one. If someone stabs my yuppie ass and takes my Rolex, I don’t really expect Mother to get a call from some concerned Swiss executive.

Well, hope everyone has a nice weekend.

-PBS

How do I stay so skinny when I live so phat?

I have been away from posting for a while; not for any specific reason, per se, but just busy with life. Also I found that when I would have the inclination to update my blog, it would pass quickly. And in some senses I felt almost overwhelmed; that I had too much to write and lacked the impetus to par it down, or let it be awash in specificities. So today seems like a good a day as any to update it; my colleagues have departed for a Cubs game, and I have the office to myself while I wait for a conference call from Australia. I was also mildly uncomfortable with leaving my prior post hanging there as the first one to be read...not that I am displeased with what I wrote, but that it gives a snapshot of a particular frame of mind that, thankfully, is not always representative. Lastly, after speaking to my good friend RG the other day (he has moved to Seattle with his boyfriend JD), I thought that a current blog would be a nice way to keep him informed of my life, since I will not be seeing him on a current basis.

Work has been very all-consuming, and I find myself repeatedly over-extended. I have been hesitant to explore my job much on this blog, since I do feel a certain fealty to the firm that precludes me from discussing anything that "should not be disclosed." At any rate, of late I have taken up several projects that have caused me to put in some very late evenings; the truth is that I truly enjoy the positive response that my over-achieving produces. My boss has, indirectly, called me out on it, diagnosing me with a tremendous desire to please people. And in many ways I agree with that; although too simplistic to say that I wish to mollify the childhood version of me that sought approval, often in vain, from my father, there may be a kernel of truth to that. When I was last in Geneva visiting my parents, my Mother took me to breakfast at the senior assisted-living center (Springfield Retirement Castle?) at which my Grandfather lives. Mother, carrying the sharp new Louis Vuitton bag I bought her and being the busy socialite, clearly drew a lot of pleasure from telling people that I worked as a bond arbitrageur, and I did not resent her that joy. The goal for me continues to be to please myself, in a spiritual way; although I did buy this tremendous pair of Dior sunglasses at Neiman Marcus.

I recently read a rather uninspired biography of Beria, the founder of the Soviet NKVD (the Soviet Secret Police), and later architect and commandant of the Soviet Gulag system (having read Solzhenitsyn's Gulag Archipelago in college). I just finished the very long biography of Henry Kissinger that I have been reading, and it seems to have piqued my interest in Cold War-era US-Soviet and Sino-Soviet arms control. I visited the awesome used book store near my apartment last night, and bought a few books on the subject: A book on SALT (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks) I & II written by a Carter Administration defense expert, a biography of Herman Kahn (the RAND Institute game theorist...partly prompted by the article in the New Yorker), and a book on Zhoe Enlai and Deng Xiaoping. One fascinating part of the Kissinger book talked about a Soviet proposal to Kissinger in the mid-70's, in which the Soviet wanted to send fighter jets to destroy ALL of China's nuclear reactors, for which they desired US complicity and collusion. Kissinger, naturally, was aghast at the possibility of nuclear fallout decimating East Asia.

Kissinger is quite an intriguing figure; his shuttle diplomacy could be a case study for the "Great Man" - as Agent theory of history. I suppose I am a pretty non-plussed reader, but the somewhat dry account of the bombings of Cambodia and Hanoi prompted me, in a Po-Mo alternative-texts way, to simultaneously read a short book of first-hand accounts of the bombings and the subsequent destabilization that led to the power vacuum in Cambodia being filled by the insanity of the Khmer Rouge. When I mentioned my interest in Kissinger, my Mother responded with "ech, he's an awful man." Although this particular biography does not show Kissinger as one who is conflicted by the moral implications/ramifications, it seems to me that he was, and further that he did wrestle with the problem of being Henry Kissinger (capital H, capital K). His pursuit of private perfection, confronting the volatile contingent situation, vividly shows that without acquiescing to social demands in some way, he cannot sustain his absolute self-ideal; I guess the contingency of "social value" demands some flexibility of individual identity. His uneasy relation between the public sphere (including Nixon and his paranoia, which Kissinger did nothing to encumber) and his private perfection represent his difficulty in self-creation (or even self-recreation, since he distanced himself from his German birth and from Judaism, while still maintaining that thick Germanic accent); a tension between the demands of circumstance (such as propping up a tremendously corrupt government in South Vietnam) and of individual character. In a very end-justifies-the means manner, he, I believe, wanted to be judged by the efficacy of his actions, whereby the contingency of selfhood and social is subtly mixed. Lastly, through all of that, I could not help but think of Kissinger losing his glasses in the toiled on the Simpsons, and the article in The Onion about Kissinger getting kicked out of the US News & World Report Mansion (a play on the Playboy Mansion) and announcing that he is “More bombed than Cambodia in ‘73” which makes me laugh even though it is kind of horrible…ah meta-reference J

So, other than all of that, I have been partying like a rock star...just not in the mood to be at home on Friday/Saturday nights I suppose. MB and I have become quite close, although I have seen him a bit less since he is with his Easter European boyfriend now much of the time. But he did throw an awesome party last Friday, to which I brought my friend Mark. MB is happy to swim in many different social circles, and I admire him for the diversity of friends; one thing I would, at least in theory, like to improve upon. I'm not sure if it is a positive or negative, but when I go out, I end up running into scores of people I know now, due in part to me being more social, and in part to being exposed to MB's vast social net. Well back to work I suppose.

-PBS

Ben has a hard life

Well yes, like most things, there is a certain amount of sarcasm, irony, and self-reference in that...in the meta-humor sense that I DO actually have a hard life - emotionally - while having the various trappings of success - money, education, ambition, intelligence, the cute shoes - that would not necessarily be a 1st-person association with living a hard life.

So here goes the usual can of worms. My friend JB was nice enough to accompany me for Mother's Day dinner out in Geneva. His take on my parents is that they are warm, welcoming, etc. I do appreciate JB's friendship, and his oft-stated concern for me, and wish for me to be happy. In fact, I believe he told me that I am his only unhappy friend...which I accept with a tinge of cynicism and a belief that perhaps some of friends are less open about it than I...

Nevertheless, and again with a quite altruistic bent, he recounted that great chestnut of how my parents are loving people who gave me everything ergo don't be so unhappy. Although I do not happen to believe that, for the vagaries of personal experience dictate other things, I do appreciate why he believes it...certainly it is logical enough on the surface. But that whole "my life is so much better than others...your parents gave you a Mercedes at 16 vs other people were raised in poverty and physical abuse" trope is inherently damning. Of course, how could I compete? So I am willing to take a stand for myself and reject that whole game of moral relativism...I mean, don't we see its failure enough in society....the wife of a bond trader killed on September 11th will receive a MUCH greater financial remuneration package than the wife of the firefighter that rushed in to save him. Is that right? And so forth...So yes the essence of the same subjective/objective chaos...

For a time, when I started therapy (well in earnest) I would have pangs of guilt and remorse after leaving a session in which I had broached some of my parental issues. And I found that I kept running up against the roadblock of "Ben you are so ungrateful and whiney, stop pouting"... So basically I could continue that dialogue that de-valued my emotions (with, I suppose, the theoretical goal of stamping them out all together...very Jungian I guess), or I could accept the validity and proceed as such. This is what I have chosen to do, as filled with emotional landmines as it may be.

Another person I know, name left-out for now, suggested that I am doubly cursed by having the time to ponder such things (in the sense that my job, although very consuming, does not involve a 12-hour shift at a factory that leaves me too tired physically to be quite so introspective) and having the sort of intelligence that produces that self-awareness…the later the reverse of the blissful-ignorance pairing. I seem to spend some intense time in my own head, and I’m not sure it is always good for my (immediate) mental health.

Well that is all a bit heavy. So to sample that sort of cultural detritus that I adore, I am rather keenly looking forward to the new UPN show about Mr and Mrs Spears…in a horrible horrible car-crash way…she has become so tragic, and although the downfall (in all of its Cool Ranch Doritos/Kools/watermelon bubble gum-way) is such a pointless cliché, I cannot help but enjoy it. Well I don’t really know if I can stomach watching it, but we shall see.

-PBS

Just another manic (depressive) Monday

Current Mood: depressed
Current Music: Madonna “Beautiful Stranger”, Placebo
Current Like(s): a.) being sad, feeling sorry for myself b.) furries (like the people that dress up in furry costumes, and fetishize/sexualize that sort of anthropomorphic Bugs Bunny-type animal)
Current Object of Lust: la Colombiano
Current Book(s): “Deconstructionist Theory and the Decline of Paul de Mann” and "Beyond Greed: The Hunts and Their Would-be Corner of the Silver Market"

Hmmm. So GM and Ford are now junk bond credits…more than a thousand dollars from every car they make is used to pay healthcare costs for their hundreds-of-thousands of employees. Seems pretty absurd to me…remind me again why Hilary was so vilified for wanting to provide healthcare to everyone? The American populace amazes me sometimes…we have such a Horatio Alger, strike-it-rich, national mindset. Countless studies have shown that working-class folks routinely oppose things like estate taxes, even though they are unaffected by them. The reason seems to be that such a citizen believes he or she COULD or perhaps WILL be rich, and thus does not want to penalize that future, richer self. Somehow it seems to me that the chance for upward mobility in American society is rather low these days. The days of oil wildcatters finding a lake of oil in the Texas panhandle are long gone, new technologies come from companies with billion-dollar R&D departments…

This was nicely exemplified for me, recently, by my co-worker’s quest to get his bright/adorable/precocious daughter into the “right” kindergarten. I was at first kind of horrified that placing one’s child in a quality (aka “feeder”) kindergarten requires rounds and round of interviews, but that changed to amusement and understanding. Although I understand it, since I felt that even at the time of my own college selection that the whole thing was becoming more and more commodified…that parents felt attending a brand name school will translate into success for their children. Not to be hypocritical, since in the event that I have children, I know I would shell out $20k to buy them the best kindergarten experience possible. At that point, I assume, what is the trade-off otherwise? Like, no, I am gonna skimp on my children and use the money for a Mercedes? Not likely. Well not for me. I hope to provide them with everything, as I was, so that they, like me, may focus on why they are miserable ;)

I did have a very nice Mother’s Day; Mom was happy with the card I gave her, since I buckled (surprise surprise) and included a message indicating that her gift would be dinner at the restaurant of her choice. Happily, JB decided to accompany me, since I knew my parents’ would be pleased and entertained with him. Also, I did not have to specifically prep him for the event, since he and I share certain opinions on social niceties. He was actually sufficiently proactive for us to get our stories straight as to how we met; although I don’t really feel there is any attached stigma to having met someone online. I suppose the gist is that, although we are very good friends now, we met under the auspices of a date, which was more information than I felt my parents needed, just from a simplicity standpoint.

JB and I stopped by the new upscale outlet mall, if that is not an oxymoron…or tautology even, haha…but we were too late and it was closed. Since we were curious, we walked around and did a bit of window shopping…the Adidas store is enormous, so I really must make an effort to visit it next time I am in Geneva…although I did manage to pick up some cute shoes at the downtown store this weekend. At any rate, as we were leaving, I noticed to my horror that one of the earpieces for my Gucci sunglasses of-the-moment had fallen off. I was playing with them as we walked around, but retracing our steps failed to produce them…I may be annoyed enough to return to the store, although I cannot imagine that much will come of it. And JB did manage to get in a few hits about paying that much for sunglasses that then quickly broke, haha.

Peace,

-PBS

Can I be an emo scenester in a Gucci suit?

Current Mood: Annoyed & somewhat horny
Current Music: Madonna "Die Another Day"
Current Like: drugs (in theory)
Current Object of Lust: sad & pretty emo boys: "lyk. omg. fall out boy. omg.so scene."
Current Book(s): "Worlds of Pain: Life in Working Class America" and "Tabboos in the Family Dynamic"

Well no, I really have no aspirations to be a scene kid; I mean, there is some appeal, mostly the cute clothes and the cute e-depressed boys and girls. Nothing like self-induced, or at least self-aggrandized, angst. I guess, for the sake of specificity, I was thinking a scenester of the Placebo/Donnie Darko/Heathers/Bukowski poetry/boys with makeup/Ayn Rand (Fountainhead but not Atlas Shrugged)/Sponge Bob/burgundy hair/Valley of the Dolls/booze & pills/poor-with-rich-parents variety. But, like many of the things that amuse me (in my mind), it would be a lovely charade. I really don't have strong music affinities or affiliations. I certainly enjoy listening to fun or silly music on my iPod, but attending a live concert of some unknown band in a cheap dive does not appear on my list of enjoyable activities. Hell, I don't even really enjoy concerts by famous and established musicians. Perhaps it can best be explained by saying that I can listen to music for an hour or more on my iPod whilst cleaning my room or doing laundry...or have it on the background, as now, while updating my blog. But I would literally never put on a new CD and sit back on the couch and listen to it with my full attention; of course, I can't think of many things, aside from, um, the whole self-pleasure thing, that get my full attention these days. Do any of you buy a new CD and proceed to listen to part or all of it while not doing anything else? Ok, I already know that GSJ will say that he does. And in some ways I envy him, to be able to connect to music in that way, to get a sustainable pleasure out of it. Maybe I just don't slow down enough to enjoy in that way.

I see that a private equity firm is buying Neiman Marcus. I am not a big buyer of Neiman Marcus, mostly because it is not a convenient or very enjoyable place to shop. Since I am of the high income/bad credit school of late 20's living, I rely solely on my Visa check card to make purchases. For some inane reason (well just being faux posh), NM only allows one to pay by cash or Amex. I mean, this is 2005 for Lord's sake...the era of horrible snobby sales people creating a tension-filled shopping experience is a relic of the 80's Barneys heyday. I have no problem waltzing into Prada in track pants and sneakers, and am always greeted by friendly people eager to show me this or that...even the ladies at Chanel have always been very sweet and helpful to me. NM is the only place I know of these days that still retains uppity sales people, and I don't shop there much partly because of that...definitely deserving of the "um, you only work in a shop you know, you can drop the attitude" reality-check. Because NM gets some different clothes than the Prada or Gucci stores or other varieties of Juicy Couture, I do sometimes check it out. If it disappeared from Michigan Avenue, I would not miss a beat, frankly.

On a more serious note, my friend Rob is making a serious life-choice, and is moving to Seattle. He and I have had some genuine and heartfelt conversations about it, and I hope that my advice was of some use to him in the whole process. The truth is that I will miss him very much, and probably more than I even realize now. He in many ways exemplifies the idea of having good people in one's life. At times during out friendship, I have been genuinely surprised at how giving and sefless a person he is, and I will always be grateful for his support during some of my troubled times. I don't mean to be writing about the friendship in a past tense, since I do not see it that way, but of course the nature of the friendship will change when I can no longer meet up with him and JD for a movie or dinner. I do envy the love and commitment that Rob and JD have; it is something that I want for myself, whether or not I pursue it correctly. In all honesty, I was for a time mad at JD for moving them out of my immediate life, but that was a short-term and immature emotion that has been replaced with an appreciation for our times together and a genuine hope for their success in this new stage of their life together. I wonder if I am strong enough to make a similar choice.

Socially, nothing too noteworthy. I had Mark over for pizza and beers last Tuesday. We had a fun time, and he was amused by the plasma tv. Since it is likely that my comments here will make it back to him, and since he expressed some concern the last time that happened (which I respect, and was embarrassed about), I will offer no further comments.

I did not go out again with Sean on Friday, which I feel good about. Aside from catching some flak for going on a date from an 18 year old, I really don’t know enough about Hilary Duff to keep up my end of a conversation. That, plus it would be more hypocritical than usual of me, since I do clearly devote time here to thinking about relationships.

Mother’s Day is approaching, and so I must come through with a card, flowers, and a gift for the woman who has literally everything. Sad to say, and I’m not sure how I got into this position, but Mother will be happy with what I buy her as long as it is expensive. It is some convoluted issue of her seeing an expensive gift as me expressing my love based on a perception of the money-love dynamic learned by me in my childhood from her and my Father. Thankfully, I no longer live at home (well, thankful about that fact for so, so many reasons, haha), so I am not asked to buy cards for my Father to give to my Mother. That was always difficult for me, and I can remember being reduced to tears at times in the aisles of Hallmark since I felt as if I were perpetuating some horrible scenario. Indeed, it took a long time of living on my own before I was able to buy my Father a card without suffering a rather unpleasant bout of guilt and remorse; somehow the sentiments of a card never seemed remotely appropriate…probably why I then usually went with a blank card. Thankfully my parents and I have been getting along very well lately, so I can expect a low-stress Mother’s Day dinner in Geneva.

Peace,

-PBS

Whatcha got on...is it Commes des Garcons?

Jeez I am tired today...I cannot wait for the workday to end so that I can crash at home. I spent a good portion of Sunday at the office, and did not end up leaving until about 10 pm. I admit that part of the blame can be ascribed to my type-A/OCD nature, in this case applied to a portfolio presentation for an investor. I just had to satisfy myself that all the information was being presented in the most logical and transparent way. I was at work early this morning to finish things up before sending it off to the printers; at about 10:30, I received word that the client had opted for a conference call instead. To say that the change of plans took the wind out of my sails, so to speak, would be quite an understatement. I had been rolling along on a wave of stress and enthusiastic determination, and suddenly had the rug pulled out from under me. I also slept quite poorly last night; recently I have been suffering a spate of bad/scary dreams, which Hilary ascribes to my predilection for the gruesome shows on CourtTV.

To be fair, the scariest thing I watched recently was a show on MTV, the name of which escapes me, although it might be called Becoming. The gist is that people, predominantly young, white, and rather sad/desperate, embark on plastic surgery to "become" more like a particular celebrity. In this case, a rather pretty and busty Texas girl had aspirations of looking like Jennifer Aniston. She started out with a certain passing resemblance to the ex-Mrs. Pitt...a fact that was confirmed by her rather vacuous friends, and a drunken sunburned frat guy who told her that she looked like Jennifer, "aside from the body of course." So the girl underwent extensive liposuction and liposculpture, a nose job, breast lift, and maybe some other things that I was just too squeamish to watch. I guess what creeped me out the most was her consultation with the plastic surgeon, to which she brought several pictures of Jennifer from People and US Weekly. The surgeon was pleased with her initiative, whipped out his black pen, and began marking up her body with the procedures that would need to be done to achieve a "Jennifer." Pardon my naiveté, but I always thought that the sine qua non of cosmetic surgery was that one is supposed to have a specific area in mind to be changed, and that that change will bring a desired peace of mind...not that one is supposed to grotesquely submit one's body to any surgery needed to look like a celebrity. I have read case studies, perhaps dated, in which the desire to look like someone else was fertile grounds for dismissing a prospective plastic surgery candidate. This doctor's Hippocratic Oath seemed to have been on hiatus, since there was no talk of the girl "wanting to feel better about herself" or to "look the way I have felt inside", etc.

Not only was the doctor absent in providing any hint of caution, but her family was entirely supportive of her choice. The only sane voice seemed to come from her boyfriend, who professed to love her exactly as she is...but not enough to attempt to dissuade her. I was troubled by the idiocy of the naked syllogism of the sort: Jennifer Aniston is pretty therefore she is happy, hence if I look like Jennifer I too will be pretty, and thus conclude that I shall be happy too. She was drawn to a "safe" societally-determined and authenticated figure of beauty, reified by the likes of US Weekly and People. She is not risking the chances and vagaries of being uniquely beautiful, but instead opting for more of a rubber-stamp approach; a guaranteed and sanitized winner amongst a diverse pulchritude. Ok, lastly, isn't it pretty foolish to want to look exactly like a celebrity? What if that person, say, murders their spouse? Or becomes laughably uncool, along the lines of Vanilla Ice? Since the preview for next week's show involved a girl desperate to look like Brittany, I can only imagine.

I have likely given this more thought than I might otherwise because I am something of a proponent of plastic surgery. Well maybe that is too strong, but I can certainly see the positives, if one approaches it from something of a healthy place. I want the sub-mandibular augmentation, because it is a minor issue…I wouldn’t say that it has necessarily “bothered” me, lacking the forceful jaw line that I want, but it is something I have always wanted to improve, and being cognizant of the process for improving it, I know I would be personally comfortable in doing so. But I am not driven to do that in order to look like Josh Hartnett. From a social life perspective, things have been rather quiet for me. I met up with JB and some of his friends on Saturday night, which was very fun. He introduced me to the fellow that he is currently interested in, and I found said person to be quite charming and funny. I ended up chatting with a cute guy named Patrick, and proceeded to get his number, since he seemed very date-worthy. We eventually made our way to Berlin, where I had not been in some time, and which I always enjoy. The scene there is really unlike any other that I have experienced in Chicago, and is worth the minimal price of admission on its own. I had a great time dancing to the usual eclectic and progressive music, making my way home at about 3.

Earlier in the evening, on my way to meet JB et al, I found a set of keys on the sidewalk. Today, in the hopes of balancing out some of my massive karmic debt, for all those years of misbehaving, haha, I mailed the keys to the Lakeshore Athletic Club, since their swipe-card was the only distinguishing characteristic on the key ring. I'd like to think that someone would do the same for me. Except of course in my case, I would assume that the person had made a copy of the keys, and was planning on robbing me :)

I may attempt to go out with Mark this week, depending on various schedules.

peace out,

-PBS

“The Youth must unite and fight against the Class Enemies!!”

Current Mood: Satiated
Current Music: Gwen Stafani “If I Was A Rich Girl”
Current Like: the weltshmertz of youthful idealism as expressed by vegan teens who describe themselves as anarchists/Leninist-Marxists (the profiles of members on the Social Angst! Website) http://www.socialnerve.org/members/

Lists of various profile interests from the Social Nerve websites: animal liberation, protest art, distrust of the World Bank/IMF, local activism, anti-Fascism, societal disruption, Outsider art, upsetting the social order

I am endlessly entertained by this website, especially how it is built with the “check boxes that apply” approach to profile creation; my favorite being the “My View on Money” section, and how one can choose “I exist on a system of barter and theft”…..I mean, how great is that?

Current Object(s) of Lust: rare Adidas sneakers with Che Guevara’s face on the tongue, and a Louis Vuitton messenger bag or a vintage Adidas running shoe bag
Current Book: Nine Scorpions in a Bottle: Activist Judges of the Supreme Court and Judicial Review as a Tool of Change
Level of Apathy: High

”To Fight, to Hunger, to Resist!”

I do not have very much to report in this blog, but then again I never have much “of substance” happening in my life. And I’m happier for it. I had a sleep-over date last night with Sean, an adorably earnest guy I met chatting at g.com. Since my social life has been reduced to nil, from a dating perspective, over the past week, I thought I would take a chance on meeting someone with whom I have chatted with and spoken to for a while. It was very low stress, since our lack of compatibility allowed me to relax without hyper-analyzing everything said and done. The lack of compatibility coming from the fact that Sean lives in the suburbs with his Mother, and has recently turned 18. My one concern is to ensure that he does not become infatuated with me, since that would be quite unfair to him. Hilary was very taken by him; part of being so young means that he is totally straightforward and honest, sometimes inappropriately so, but he does not hedge or over-analyze his speech. It is refreshing if not a bit startling.

I had hopes of developing a “friends with benefits” relationship with M, with whom I hooked up a few weeks ago. Sadly, his all-consuming job at CBS, in ways reminiscent of my own, has made meeting up again fairly difficult. I do get the feeling that he does not quite know how to handle me.

In other random news, Hilary was out doing some errands on Saturday afternoon, and was dressed casually with her hair up and no makeup. While walking down Milwaukee, she noticed Vince Vaughn and an unidentified friend walking towards her on the same side of the street. She decided to forego playing it cool, and openly stared at him as he approached. He responded by winking at her, and then reached out and grabbed her forearm as if to say that he understood that she was star-struck. I an pretty damn jealous that I wasn’t with her, since I totally get off on such celebrity encounters (i.e. my spilling a drink on Steve from 90210).

So that’s about all I know; I’m not in the mood to go off on some twisted verbiage tangent. I did discover a discount store called Filene’s Basement, which I have to recommend (thanks to RG and JD); they have a huge selection of cute underwear at great sale prices.

Lastly, I am tired of my friends all buying condos J Well, I mean I am proud of them for doing so, but it makes me feel lazy and irresponsible in response. I have very much of a Carrie-Sex in the City take on the whole matter…her $40,000 down payment spent on Manolo Blahniks, Christian Louboutins, and Jimmy Choos…and the “I’ll be a bag lady – a Fendi bag lady – but a bag lady nonetheless” trope.

Peace,

PBS