EUSTACHY! is right.
For those who were wondering, clevelandbrowns.com supports our troops in Iraq.
well, i have information that i did not have before about astoria queens, although one of the two ex-new englanders was much more helpful. i don’t have a car, ben. i don’t have a car. it’s not my fault.
i think the gang of four are singlehandedly responsible for why music now sucks, despite not sucking too much themselves.
in cleveland, eric wedge discusses josh “roy hobbs” bard’s early struggles at the plate:
“He’s gonna hit for some sort of average, and he’s gonna drive in big runs for you,” Wedge said of Bard. “I don’t wanna put a number on it, but from that position, he’s gonna be more than adequate.”
and as many have pointed out, today is the 20th anniversary of the greatest post-game tirade of all time. some highlights:
“I hope we get (expletive) hotter than (expletive), just to stuff it up them 3,000 (expletive) people that show up every (expletive) day,” Elia said, getting more worked up with every word. “Because if they’re the real Chicago (expletive) fans, they can kiss my (expletive) ass right downtown. And print it!”
things i ate today, vol 1
one half of two different pizza capri sandwiches. one had beef, the other had chicken.
the meat components of pizza capri salad. mostly chicken, some bits of bacon.
one mango lassie from the rajun cajun.
one wee tub of spicy lentils from same.
that brings us right up to the present.
i am told that astoria queens is a nice place to live. does anyone have any opinion about that?
SHE WAS A GIRL FROM BIRMINGHAM!
i just saw the fattest cat ever. very big cat. i don’t think you understand, having not seen the cat. on an unrelated note, what’s kenny mayne up to these days?
thinking back to getting drunk and watching the T-Wolves/Lakers game last night, i don’t think i should be as prideful as i am for starting a chant of “BULL SHIT… BULL SHIT” when sczerbiak obviously didn’t touch kobe on that layup, considering the tv and the referees inside it could not hear the chanting. and as much as i don’t want to say this, the veggie patty at subway is actually pretty good. is it too cold to go see a baseball game tonight?
baseball stadiums i think i have been to:
cleveland municipal stadium
jacobs field
riverfront/cinergy field
wrigley field
comiskey/us cellular
das skydome
tiger stadium (i think?)
three rivers (also tenuous due to my youthitude)
four of those stadiums no longer exist. one of them is an artificial reef in lake erie right now.
in other news: kerry wood broke the major league record for Ks in a game last night with 22. you didn’t hear about it because it happened inside moacir’s playstation.
live in a big white house in the forest
a big poopshipdestroyer enterprises welcome to Raja Bell and his diary of gay New York entitled “Shoot Mike Timlin.” Raja, for those who do not know and want to know, grew up in some proximity to the ex-showgirl wife of late Cleveland Indians owner Donald Phelps, who has no business running a major league baseball team.
also: alan thicke got fucked up by a hockey puck. this is strange because i had a dream in which either alan thicke or robert christgau was killed or wounded the other night. and, as we all remember, i am haunted by dead house pets. how does everybody feel about me being in such close contact with the spirit world?
also: polygamists in Utah are pissed at Sen. Rick Santorum (R-PA) for equating polygamy with really weird fucked up shit like being gay and monogamous right in the middle of your own home. THE NERVE OF THOSE CRAZY GAYS!
another one: BITCHES LEAVE!
another scene from 53rd St
A man carrying a garbage bag full of roses beat the crap out of another guy who seemed very drunk. the flower salesman called the drunk guy a bunch of terrible names and seemed very very mad at him for unspecified reasons. then he hit him in the head a few times. i was about to call the cops from my vantage point in front of boston market before three cop cars pulled up and arrested the angry flower peddler. the guy who got knocked around seemed to be up for review as far as getting arrested was concerned, but was released and sent on his way, with a pat on the back that seemed to say “in the future please do not be so drunk at 3 pm in the future.” while most of this happening, i had a conversation with a guy named andrew who i wound up giving 75 cents to when he asked for it. we also discussed the weather, real estate in hyde park, and the possible motives of the flower selling dude in beating up the drunk guy. then a woman with two young children walked by and he commented on the roundness of her butt, which i must admit was remarkable and very nice. i said hey dude she’s got kids, she’s probably married. andrew said you don’t know that, woman be walking around with kids ain’t got no husband ain’t even got not man in their life. i said sad but true. then he told me about how he was going to visit his brother in georgia via greyhound. his brother was blind but had gotten better, but was subsequently struck down with sickle cell. and andrew was going to see him. then my ride came and i was said goodbye to my new friend.
If anybody (who hasn’t been scared away by recent posts) is wondering what’s it like to be me right now:
1:43 p.m., 22 April 2003
The Maroon office, Voices computer
Holy shit. These cookies are delicious. Why haven’t I been getting these from the vending machine all along? Of course Soft Batch is better than pretzels. Only a complete idiot would choose pretzels in that situation. How much more do I have to read before I can say I read this Economist? Lupus. Lupus. Did Tim Raines have lupus? When did he stop being Rock Raines and revert to Tim? Can I call my dad Rock Beatty?
Inaugural Civil War Roundtable Inter-Web Poll (with bonus surprises¥)
Should I move out of Hyde Park?
No, or at least not yet. Maybe next year.
Yes. Right the fuck now. Go pack.
Now, neither the victorious old woman nor the mice recorded your vote, so if you have one, keep it to yourself until you run into this blog on the street and then say it really fast.
¥ These wonderful surprises were obtained while looking for a picture of rock legend Ginger Baker for non-blog-related purposes. You know, just to look at.
i took a half-hour nap before dinner and now i can’t sleep. i guess i don’t even need to be in bed yet. man am i a weenie. i actually can’t wait to go to sleep.
well, i would write a big long explication of the significance of whales in literature if i was feeling up to it. i think i am still sick. my throat hurts, for what that’s worth. i feel put upon. which means i am not put upon. but i did work something like 8 hours today. at two DIFFERENT jobs. hard as nails, someone once said.
another bum from last week
in front of the osco on 53rd st
Bum: Do you have it your heart to help the homeless today sir?
Pete: No sorry I don’t have any money.
B: (thinking to himself that i am lying, since i just walked into a store. unless i am trying to rob it, i must have some money. right? alas, my bumly friend, i was going into osco to check my atm balance to see if my tax refund had been deposited, which it hadn’t, which meant i had no money of any sort, less than the bum even.) JUST BECAUSE I AM HOMELESS DOES NOT MEAN I AM A BAD PERSON.
P: (now safely inside osco but somewhat rattled by volume and pointedness of last comment. get bad news from ATM. steel self to leave again and face wrath of enraged bum)
B: (sees me, shakes fist a little bit more that half-ass-edly) HAVE A HEART MAN. HAVE A GODDAMN HEART.
P: (i definitely have a heart) mumble sorry mumble
B: FUCK MUMBLE CURSING MUMBLING (LOUD)
I gotta stop documenting my encounters with panhandlers. just a few more i swear to god. ooh now’s it twelve twenty. only forty minutes until i get to go to sleep. gesundheit! anyway, i don’t feel so creative right now. maybe i could tell a story about not feeling creative. what’s that? [off-blog talking, low] so someone already came up with that? well i’m fucked now.
not quite a bum definitely sort of a crazy person
also in front of osco (on a different day) (just today, actually)
normal-looking dude who bought a soda from me at the coffee shop last week: (gee, this leather jacket makes me look normal. these headphones and accompanying cd player are also assisting in my normal look. hmm. this is boring. what if i ABSOLUTELY FUCKING SCREAM “THANK YOU MOSES!!!!!!!!!!” twice AT THE ABSOLUTE LOUDEST IMAGINABLE VOLUME A SINGLE HUMAN CAN PRODUCE two to three feet IN FRONT OF THIS POOR COLLEGE KID’S FACE? will that relieve my boredom? well, can’t hurt to find out) THANK YOU MOSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU MOSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
pete: (oh my god i am frightened. ahahahahahahahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. can’t that cop arrest him for that? whatthefuckjusthappenedamibleeding. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)
…
some thoughts on 53rd street
or
the dandy of 57th street gets his comeuppances
or
the significance of whales
so i’ve been spending five to fifteen minutes in the vicinity of boston market at 53 and dorch to blackstone in recent weeks due to my billet with an ad firm. most of the time i’m in the offfice so it’s not like i’m soaking up the 53rd atmosphere constantly. but with walking and trips to dunkies and cigarette breaks, i get out a bit. and what i’m getting is that 53rd street is filled with fucking crazy people. absolute fucking nutsos everywhere. especially hyde park’s seemingly inexhaustible supply of very-slow-walking and possibly-deranged old people, all of whom spend every day of their life walking to and from the co-op on lake park. and the people who just walk down the street talking loudly at inanimate objects and shit. a guy addressed a comment to a woman’s ass the other day. i applaud his creativity but couldn’t he have just imagined that to himself? i’m probably guilty of that as is any other young adult man out there, but i have never addressed anybody’s ass out loud. and it wasn’t even lewd, which i guess is nice. he just asked the butt what it was up to. maybe i’m worrying too much about it.
anyway, 57th street, in my hyde park experience, is the park avenue shit. and i am not just saying that because i live there. it’s obviously nicer. although we were the last place in HP to get a S – - w – - . i won’t type the name of that place. this government has an idea…
real impromptu like, the best places in hyde park, to be re-evaluated prior to graduation:
(i am using an elastic definition of place.)
1. statue of joseph masaryk, far east end of midway plaisance
2. the giant brown and white stone apartment tower at 56th and cornell that hides tom zimpleman’s building, esp. as viewed from lake shore drive as you come up to 57th street exit from south.
3. the war-house on 52nd, the house that beats up other houses for fun. the battleship-gray one. only two or three people (jake, moacir, tessa) have any idea what i am talking about.
4. ok this is gay but the UT balcony where you can smoke. it’s a nice view.
5. 5700 s. blackstone avenue, #3
6. the cooley’s house on 5200 de la dorch. they have a dog. and cereal.
7. ridgewood avenue and the ATM with $5 withdrawals.
8. the zany religion section of hyde park blvd, which is like 5450-5300. there may actually one be one zany religion here.
8a. the society of friends on woodlawn.
9. the goat, now on 53 and university. side note to goat enthusiaists: the goat has two cousins that i know of: one is a horse on roughly 35th and racine (well, 35th and something) and a giraffe spotted in an unidentified and likely weird-as-shit near north side backyard. who the fuck has a giant globular shiny metal giraffe sculpture in their backyard?
10. the renaissance society during the dog day afternoon-centric installation from my first year.
11. the monkeys on the bannisters of grand staircase in ida noyes. monkeys, i have rubbed you both many times. one day i will make this up to you.
11a. pretty much all of ida, notably the maroon office, the crazy mural trying atone for the horribly patriarchical mural in bartlett and doing a pretty good job, if anyone ever saw the third floor theater with the lights on and not drunk.
11ai. the whole third floor. except for doc’s office, which is a dump.
11aii. the crazy backstage area at the third floor theater, which made me feel like i was in WWII-era italy, trying to save a special autistic monk who had knew what what hitler was allergic to or something. maybe i am suffering due to previous drug use or maybe i am on to something. can anyone see me in a nice dark green unifrom and helmet saving a monk who vaguely resembles the cartoon julius caesar from little caesar’s commercials a long time ago? i have a pistol. what i mean by this is that the backstage area is in disrepair yet has a lot of stucco and arched doorways, which means WWII italy to me. have i mentioned that i am weird and sleepy?
12. i’m coming back to this post later, i swear to god. i mean it.
13. (i’m serious)
14.
15. ( i am)
16.
worst places in hyde park (entirely arbitrary)
1. the creepy baby deer fountain right at the end of the tunnel leading to the point. graves go in cemeteries. even fake graves. are we clear on this?
2. cobb coffee shop. white people with dreadlocks get all the fingers.
3. jimmy’s when too crowded. it’s like a frat party. but with old people. i guess that goes for any restaurant, bar, underground gambling joint, brothel or public house of any sort that lets too many people in and then lets them talk loud and bother me. but jimmy’s gets really bad. and the same people always have seats. because they are bar dorks.
4. the car in cement at 60th and ingleside outside midway studios. art is retarded. someone could have used that car.
5.
6. the lobby of the reynolds club when eight billion people are screaming and shoving baked goods in your face.
7. i’m finishing this later too.
8.
ahhhahahhahah nick cave is freaking me out. he migth ahve to get put in the lockbox where i keep roller coasters and handguns. good night everybody.
i took a half-hour nap before dinner and now i can’t sleep. i guess i don’t even need to be in bed yet. man am i a weenie. i actually can’t wait to go to sleep.
well, i would write a big long explication of the significance of whales in literature if i was feeling up to it. i think i am still sick. my throat hurts, for what that’s worth. i feel put upon. which means i am not put upon. but i did work something like 8 hours today. at two DIFFERENT jobs. hard as nails, someone once said.
another bum from last week
in front of the osco on 53rd st
Bum: Do you have it your heart to help the homeless today sir?
Pete: No sorry I don’t have any money.
B: (thinking to himself that i am lying, since i just walked into a store. unless i am trying to rob it, i must have some money. right? alas, my bumly friend, i was going into osco to check my atm balance to see if my tax refund had been deposited, which it hadn’t, which meant i had no money of any sort, less than the bum even.) JUST BECAUSE I AM HOMELESS DOES NOT MEAN I AM A BAD PERSON.
P: (now safely inside osco but somewhat rattled by volume and pointedness of last comment. get bad news from ATM. steel self to leave again and face wrath of enraged bum)
B: (sees me, shakes fist a little bit more that half-ass-edly) HAVE A HEART MAN. HAVE A GODDAMN HEART.
P: (i definitely have a heart) mumble sorry mumble
B: FUCK MUMBLE CURSING MUMBLING (LOUD)
I gotta stop documenting my encounters with panhandlers. just a few more i swear to god. ooh now’s it twelve twenty. only forty minutes until i get to go to sleep. gesundheit! anyway, i don’t feel so creative right now. maybe i could tell a story about not feeling creative. what’s that? [off-blog talking, low] so someone already came up with that? well i’m fucked now.
not quite a bum definitely sort of a crazy person
also in front of osco (on a different day) (just today, actually)
normal-looking dude who bought a soda from me at the coffee shop last week: (gee, this leather jacket makes me look normal. these headphones and accompanying cd player are also assisting in my normal look. hmm. this is boring. what if i ABSOLUTELY FUCKING SCREAM “THANK YOU MOSES!!!!!!!!!!” twice AT THE ABSOLUTE LOUDEST IMAGINABLE VOLUME A SINGLE HUMAN CAN PRODUCE two to three feet IN FRONT OF THIS POOR COLLEGE KID’S FACE? will that relieve my boredom? well, can’t hurt to find out) THANK YOU MOSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU MOSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
pete: (oh my god i am frightened. ahahahahahahahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. can’t that cop arrest him for that? whatthefuckjusthappenedamibleeding. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)
…
some thoughts on 53rd street
or
the dandy of 57th street gets his comeuppances
or
the significance of whales
so i’ve been spending five to fifteen minutes in the vicinity of boston market at 53 and dorch to blackstone in recent weeks due to my billet with an ad firm. most of the time i’m in the offfice so it’s not like i’m soaking up the 53rd atmosphere constantly. but with walking and trips to dunkies and cigarette breaks, i get out a bit. and what i’m getting is that 53rd street is filled with fucking crazy people. absolute fucking nutsos everywhere. especially hyde park’s seemingly inexhaustible supply of very-slow-walking and possibly-deranged old people, all of whom spend every day of their life walking to and from the co-op on lake park. and the people who just walk down the street talking loudly at inanimate objects and shit. a guy addressed a comment to a woman’s ass the other day. i applaud his creativity but couldn’t he have just imagined that to himself? i’m probably guilty of that as is any other young adult man out there, but i have never addressed anybody’s ass out loud. and it wasn’t even lewd, which i guess is nice. he just asked the butt what it was up to. maybe i’m worrying too much about it.
anyway, 57th street, in my hyde park experience, is the park avenue shit. and i am not just saying that because i live there. it’s obviously nicer. although we were the last place in HP to get a S – - w – - . i won’t type the name of that place. this government has an idea…
real impromptu like, the best places in hyde park, to be re-evaluated prior to graduation:
(i am using an elastic definition of place.)
1. statue of joseph masaryk, far east end of midway plaisance
2. the giant brown and white stone apartment tower at 56th and cornell that hides tom zimpleman’s building, esp. as viewed from lake shore drive as you come up to 57th street exit from south.
3. the war-house on 52nd, the house that beats up other houses for fun. the battleship-gray one. only two or three people (jake, moacir, tessa) have any idea what i am talking about.
4. ok this is gay but the UT balcony where you can smoke. it’s a nice view.
5. 5700 s. blackstone avenue, #3
6. the cooley’s house on 5200 de la dorch. they have a dog. and cereal.
7. ridgewood avenue and the ATM with $5 withdrawals.
8. the zany religion section of hyde park blvd, which is like 5450-5300. there may actually one be one zany religion here.
8a. the society of friends on woodlawn.
9. the goat, now on 53 and university. side note to goat enthusiaists: the goat has two cousins that i know of: one is a horse on roughly 35th and racine (well, 35th and something) and a giraffe spotted in an unidentified and likely weird-as-shit near north side backyard. who the fuck has a giant globular shiny metal giraffe sculpture in their backyard?
10. the renaissance society during the dog day afternoon-centric installation from my first year.
11. the monkeys on the bannisters of grand staircase in ida noyes. monkeys, i have rubbed you both many times. one day i will make this up to you.
11a. pretty much all of ida, notably the maroon office, the crazy mural trying atone for the horribly patriarchical mural in bartlett and doing a pretty good job, if anyone ever saw the third floor theater with the lights on and not drunk.
11ai. the whole third floor. except for doc’s office, which is a dump.
11aii. the crazy backstage area at the third floor theater, which made me feel like i was in WWII-era italy, trying to save a special autistic monk who had knew what what hitler was allergic to or something. maybe i am suffering due to previous drug use or maybe i am on to something. can anyone see me in a nice dark green unifrom and helmet saving a monk who vaguely resembles the cartoon julius caesar from little caesar’s commercials a long time ago? i have a pistol. what i mean by this is that the backstage area is in disrepair yet has a lot of stucco and arched doorways, which means WWII italy to me. have i mentioned that i am weird and sleepy?
12. i’m coming back to this post later, i swear to god. i mean it.
13. (i’m serious)
14.
15. ( i am)
16.
worst places in hyde park (entirely arbitrary)
1. the creepy baby deer fountain right at the end of the tunnel leading to the point. graves go in cemeteries. even fake graves. are we clear on this?
2. cobb coffee shop. white people with dreadlocks get all the fingers.
3. jimmy’s when too crowded. it’s like a frat party. but with old people. i guess that goes for any restaurant, bar, underground gambling joint, brothel or public house of any sort that lets too many people in and then lets them talk loud and bother me. but jimmy’s gets really bad. and the same people always have seats. because they are bar dorks.
4. the car in cement at 60th and ingleside outside midway studios. art is retarded. someone could have used that car.
5.
6. the lobby of the reynolds club when eight billion people are screaming and shoving baked goods in your face.
7. i’m finishing this later too.
8.
ahhhahahhahah nick cave is freaking me out. he migth ahve to get put in the lockbox where i keep roller coasters and handguns. good night everybody.
