I have a decent job waiting for me up in Chicago. The job starts in late January, which is also when the lease on my current place ends.

Plus/minus:

+ the job pays twice what I currently make.
+ I could probably stay with my Uncle Karl for free.
+ Karl is one of my favorite relatives.
- The job is not in an industry I'm interested in. (It's IT work connected with assisted living communities)
- It is cold in Chicago. I wouldn't be able to ride my bike until at least late June.
- The job would involve sitting in cubicles for long periods of time.
+ Relatively little supervision at work. (ie: I can come in hungover and spend lots of time working on my own projects as long as the work gets done.)
- The work is really boring. Spreadsheets boring.
- Karl just bought a house with his long term boyfriend/life partner/whatev. I might be harshing their domesticity.
+ If I worked in Chicago January through late summer, I could save enough to pay off my student loans. I would also have a lot of extra money.
- I know almost zero people in Chicago. I know zero people who are into the industries I'm considering (fine arts, photography, writings, etc)
+ Chicago is one of my favorite cities.
+ I would no longer be living in squalor.
+ My roommates would not be insane.
+ There's a pool I can swim in during my lunch break.
- I would be abandoning all the projects I've been working on for the last year, just as they're starting to show potential.
- I might be trapped at the Chicago job via complacency for a lifetime.

The + and - I've listed here have different weights attached to them, obv. Still, I would appreciate any advice you can give me. Also, feel free to text your advice to me: 404.754.9469. Especially feel free to text me on Tuesday and Thursday between 4:30 and 9pm EST, when I will be at work and bored.

Also, considering hopping a train for a music festival in Richmond next weekend (August 21-23). Holla if you're in Richmond/DC.

Busted up my leg last night, now I'm all Frankenstein* limping along.

On the other hand, the leg busting happened while I was DANCING, which I do not do very often at all, so I am pretty happy about it.

I'm going to go shove Chinese food into my hangover.


* Frankenstein's monster!  I know!  But Frankenstein is the generally accepted term!  I don't know whether I should go with my listener's familiarity, or the truth!

I'm no longer vain. I'm just keeping you up-to-date on how my face is healing.

Anyway, I haven't shaved recently because my lips and chin are all scabbed over. But I'm healing pretty fast, and I'll probably be able to go back to my normal clearcutting routine by this weekend.

However! I am also enchanted by the idea of facial hair, and I sort of like the concept of a newer, more morlock-y Ben emerging from this accident.

Given these facts, please recommend one of these choices:

1. No facial hair.
2. Beard.
3. Mustache.
4. Beard and mustache.
5. Sideburns.
6. Sideburns and mustache?

There is a good chance I will stick with whatever the majority decides for at least a few weeks.

If, for some reason, you wanted to seduce a Dreamy Young Writer, there's basically only one technique which will work:

Sit down and read everything they've ever written.  While they're in the same room as you.  Read your favorite parts* out loud, incorporating audible signs of your appreciation.  Always say you prefer their more "artistic" work to anything they've done for pay.  If this doesn't immediately lead to sex and sullen declarations of love, you'll have to employ the Ultimate Seduction Technique: wait three days, then call your Dreamy Young Writer, prefacing your call with, "I can't get [phrase you read three days earlier in their notebook] out of my head!"

Done.  Prepare for several months of the worst (and most fantastically tortured) relationship you've ever been in.

* choosing these passages can be tricky, as you're really aiming to confirm the writer's opinion of certain passages' quality.  When in doubt, it's generally a good plan to pick the last sentence of a paragraph, or pretty much any overblown description of the weather.

My downstairs roommate is working on paneling his room.

I can tell because I woke up this morning to the sound of him hammering, punctuated by the words "fuck. fuck you. you're shit." every other blow. Not spoken in a monotone, but his voice is so low that you can imagine it that way.


These Are Powers play at Eyedrum in Atlanta on March 24. Caledonia Lounge in Athens March 25.

I don't know why everything that happens today is pregnancy related. I think the communal cat ("Beefy") is pregnant.

I think I need to read that book that Marco Polo wrote. I was reading an excerpt earlier today where he describes a unicorn (actually a rhinoceros). Polo is careful to point out that they are not particularly attracted to virgins. Also, they do not kill with their horn.  Instead, the horn is used to knock beasties down, and then they kill their prey using "two sharp ridges along the edges of their tongue."

I guess things took a short term turn for the better today:

Got a call from a lab at Georgia State saying I'd been accepted for an alcohol research test on Thursday.  Totally awesome deal - They feed me booze until I reach a pretty damn high blood alcohol level (the interviewer said it was the equivalent of three to four drinks), I take tests for about an hour and a half, and then I sit is a comfy room with videogames and movies for a few hours waiting for my BAC to get down to sober.  Pay is $100 and I should be there for 6 to 8 hours.  Awesome!

Then about an hour later I got a call from a film that was hiring extras.  I will be on set for 12 hours tomorrow and maybe Wednesday.  They feed me, and the pay is $12 per hour.  I figure I will be very bored and get a lot of reading done.

Then, for no reason at all, my grandmother emailed, saying that she'd found $2600 that my grandfather had meant to give me a few years ago, and would I like it now?  I said yes.

And then nothing for a while, except some promising job openings (one for a gallery associate, which would be cool, and somewhat up my alley).  But then the mail came!  And there were two checks in it!  One of them was $19 back-pay for that dishwashing job I had in my freshman year at Oglethorpe.  The other was $45 for an article I'd written for Pine, received without having to send more than two "please give me my money"-type emails!

So things are looking up.  I am trying to figure out what to do with the surprise $2600.  This might be a good time to try investing a few hundred bucks.  Or, take those few hundred bucks and go running for warm New Orleans, which is another type of investment.  And then there's finally moving out... I guess I could do that now, while the market's awesome for renters.

Oh, and pants!  It's been years since I had non-secondhand pants.  Are pants an Investment In My Future?

Sitting at a cafe on Edgewood, blowing one of my gift certificate prizes on things which eat my brain and rot my teeth.

There are some middle-aged white guys sitting on the couches next to me with very good looking briefcases. They are discussing:

1) opening a new restaurant.

2) whether one of the guy's frequent post-midnight calls to an employee are grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit.

-

I'm considering getting into a fight with this guy.  Over a girl.

Yes, batshit insane... but strangely tempting.  I doubt it will happen.  In my (second-hand) experience, it is very hard to start a fight.  Also, most fights, once started, do not come anywhere near a satisfying exchange of blows.  They generally become two combatants rolling around on concrete - at most, the worst damage done is a face smashed into the ground (never very hard) or some scraping punches to the ribs.  I haven't been in many fights, but I find that the most pressing concern is keeping clothes clean and glasses unsmashed.

Anyway, there's no particular reason this would happen.  I think I'm entertaining the possibility because I'm annoyed that I've put myself in this situation in the first place.  Getting in a series of fights with an imaginary opponent is a good metaphor for: "Ben, don't be fucking retarded."

-

I've been paying special attention to the way my bike handles since the crash, trying to figure out what sort of damage it took, and I finally realized it today: my handlebars and fork (the thing the front wheel is attached to) have gone slightly askew.  That explains why I've been feeling unbalanced lately.  And, coincidentally, this makes my drunken, stopped-by-police-for-running-reds, robot-armor-wearing second place win much more amazing.

Domestic issues at home. My mother and I are both very stubborn*, so our arguments tend to go Cold War very quickly.

Other things are going good. We've got some writers and designers lined up for this new website, that music site I write for just won a regional prize, I've almost got enough work out the way to start on another pay piece, and, y'know - there's this weather.

I've got a crush on one of the barristas at this coffee shop, and she's like at least 30% of the reason I go there, but I haven't really done anything about it because I'm not comfortable with hitting on people who (at least in theory) earn their money by being nice to me. A few days ago she came over to chat on her cigarette break, and we mainly exchanged the sort of babble two people use to prove that they're:

1) weird
2) smart
3) hip
4) artsy

It was a stupid conversation, but I think we both enjoyed it... ironically.  As the conversation was ending she kept talking about stuff she was doing that weekend, and I was too dense to even say "I'll see you there," or something along those lines.  So then I ended up at one of the things she mentioned, because it turns out she's in a band I really like, but I hadn't realized it before because when she's performing she wears a falcon costume + mask + foot high heels.  It got awkward from there, and now I'm sitting at home trying to make a list of everything I hate about burlesque.

* more accurately, we're only very stubborn when we're arguing with each other.

Everything is going wrrrrrong!

My arms are all wwwwavy!

I've been meaning to bike more (currently averaging like 10 miles a day, down from 20ish/day a few months ago).  So I told some cyclocross people that I'd practice with them tomorrow.  I don't know what's going to happen.  Cyclocross is weird - sometimes you ride your bike, and other times you've gotta like carry it over walls or down muddy slopes.  And that's considered a normal course.

I am not hardcore.

The closest I get to hardcore is when I forget that peaches have pits.

I've got the original image below the cut, just in case you'd also like to spend several hours a day looking into my deformed eyebrows.
( Those Eyebrows! )

Sitting in a coffee house with a few other laptop homeless, trying to deflect this black-hair-swept-in-front-of-face girl's look-smile-lookaway tactics.

I've decided I'm only going to wear one shirt forever. I don't like any of my others.

I wish I had one pair of pants I could wear forever too.

I would just write on myself when I needed a change of look.

Also, thinking of getting a tattoo on my calf reading:

Look At My Awesome CALF TATTOO

I bet that would be hilarious. Especially if the tattoo was too big, so I had to put it on both legs, so they read:

Look             At My
Aweso          me CA
LF TA            TTOO

I'm going on my first group ride tomorrow.  Pretty excited.  I think we're going about 13 miles West to the Silver Comet trail, possibly stopping off to swim in a river, and then heading back by around 10am.

Please please please reply to this message with a few reasons I shouldn't spend five to six hundred dollars on a Canon EOS 400D.



PS:  I've heard that taking pictures with that thing keeps men from going bald.

Okay.

Been psyching myself up for this all night.

I will now attempt to cut my hair.  Sober.

This is what happened last time:



I like to think that my hair cutting skills have improved since that night.  Only one way to find out.

This "essay" was originally written two years ago. It's still basically true, and I think good relationships are built on understanding the principle I discuss.

So, basically, I believe that for every person you meet, no matter how awesome they are, it's possible to be around them long enough that they become annoying. This theory holds as true for friends as it does for girlfriends.

I developed this theory in high school, when I spent a lot of time hanging out with my friend Chris. If you know Chris, you know how annoying he tends to be. If you don't know Chris, just picture a Republican who doesn't read, and always talks about either the military or sex. And treats them both like videogames.

After spending a few hours with Chris, I realized that I grew to hate him more every hour we were together. Eventually, I quantified the amount of time between meeting up with Chris and wanting to stab him until he stopped babbling. I called this number "C-Time".

A few interesting observations about c-time: C-Time can be lengthened by varying activities during the time two people are associated, activity's like talking make c-time shorter, limiting contact by reading or watching a movie make c-time longer. I notice that friends unconsciously understand when they've almost reached the end of c-time, and they take steps to remove themselves from association with their friend, at least for a short time. Also, it seems that c-time may pause when sharing an enjoyable activity with person, like drinking (or booze makes you more tolerant of associate), walking, sex (actually, sex is a lot like drinking, as far as what you tolerate), video games, certain types of physical labor.

Longest C-time observed: Stu, at around 3-4 days; though we had been living together in Japan at the time, and I think being forced to deal with a person makes you more tolerable

Shortest C-time observed (in a friend): Maybe post breakup Megan (30minutes - 1 hour), or Chris (3 hours, though this decreases every time we hang out)

-

This may help explain why I wasn't sure if it was "okay" to hangout with that girl immediately after our first date. I've been thinking about the C-time problem a lot. It's not yet an issue with this girl, but Wednesday was the only day this week that we didn't spend several hours in each other's company.

Let us assume that the happy relationship feeling lasts even while the partners are separated (with decreasing effect as the time that the partners are apart increases). Also, if partners spend too much time together, the relationship becomes strained, and more likely to end. If these suppositions are true, a healthy long lasting relationship would be one which carefully balances length of time of physical meetings and absences, with time apart being much longer than time together.

An example in support of the above theory: when two people start living together, their relationship often becomes strained.

Your thoughts, etc etc.

I tried to cut my own hair, and now one side looks passable, and the other side looks like I was attacked by a drunken Edward Scissorhands.

Pictures soon.

EDIT:  Naturalistic fallacy.  Sweet.

Pretty drunk.

Was not aware that myself was responsible for other people's feelings.

Have always thought it kinder to assume various persons one encounters as independent from self.

Not sure why girls screech their tires when they drive away from my apartment.

Gonna play some video games, maybe eat some leftover tofu.

Goodnight goodnight, you internets and internats.


PS:  I understand why they decide to screech their tires, but I do not understand what prompts a person to see the world as they do.

I'm at my Aunts' house for the reunion.  Everyone's very nice, and no one bothers me while I'm reading.  Sometimes I socialize.

My dad has been strictly monitering my drinking.  It is hilarious.  He asks me, in the most casual of ways, how much I've had to drink.  Then I try to imply, in the most casual of ways, that I've been drinking whiskey straight for the last five hours.  Have considered using whiskey as cologn, in order to enhance the mystery.

I worry, that if I don't give my parents something to worry about, they're brains will rot into senility from dissuse.

Also, apparently, other family members read this blog.  Extended family members.  Please feel free to discuss your most innapropriate sexual fantasies in the comments section.  Bonus points if they involve large reptiles or Simone de Beauvoir.

(Mary's got a copy of Second Sex!  And three Hemingway novels!  I wanna put them next to each other and see what happens!)

I have planned an Adventure for this weekend.

1)  Leave for London Friday afternoon.
2)  Meet up with London Tall Dancing Friend for dinner.
3)  Perhaps go for a walk.
4)  Find bar, make brilliant new London friends.
5)  Return to London Tall Dancing Friend's apartment, negotiate (drunkenly) with her and roommates for a spot of floor to sleep on.
6)  Get belligerent.
7)  Sleep.
8)  Wake.
9)  Take bus to Newcastle.
10)  Meet Scottish friend in Newcastle.
11)  Drink until we're able to have a decent conversation/don't care.
12)  Fight inanimate objects.
13)  Find somewhere to sleep.  If possible, not involving money.
14)  Get in fight with whatever I happen to be sleeping on.
15)  Lose.
16)  Wake.
17)  Take bus back to Oxford.
18)  Write something or other about something related to feminism in Naussica episode of Ulysses.

I wrote a long rant about God, and how little an invisible ineffable creature mattered in our lives.  But then I erased it, because seriously, why talk about God when I could talk about the weather?

It was nice today.  I sat in a tree and read a book.  I figured out another little piece of myself.  Coming closer to figuring out what's up with that gal.  No, I'm still not sure what my interest is.  When it comes to crushes/love/lust etcetera, I am always the last to know.  Rode my bike a bit.  Got a 97 on the latest French test.  Sat through the oral portion of today's test, died a little inside with each word the teacher spoke.  Been meaning to clean room, exercise a bit.  Declined invitation to Karate club as I hate almost everyone involved.  Why doesn't OU have an archery club?  I like archery.  Said alot of truly intellectually badass things in the James class, pissed off teacher by disagreeing and being right.  My bad.  Will try to think along prescribed lines.

Seriously, sometimes teachers say some weird shit.  And every time a teacher says something stupid, I have this little fight between speaking up/correcting, and letting the class actually continue.  I mean, it doesn't really matter if the rest of the class understands that the teacher was wrong, but I just have this nerdy impulse to help people who say stupid shit.  And, of course, the problem is when I speak up, and the teacher understands my point intellectually, but doesn't want to be "wrong".  I guess what I'm saying is "I have an insufferably high opinion of my own intelligence".

A question for the world:  Is it wrong to hit on AST/ChiO girls?  I can't tell them apart.

My brother and I are discussing my writing, and whether it will ever be any good.  He says, in response to something I said:

A:  But you've gotta stop doing that thing, were you're like describing the world like that.
B:  Like what?
A:  Your writing is like what you see.  It's like looking inside your head.
B:  So?  What the fuck's wrong with my head?
A:  Benjamin.  You are weird.  You think strange.
B:  Ah.  I guess that makes sense.

Work from two till six, then somewhere to procure many pins and superglue, then a stop in at the Sigma Halloween thing, then the Chi Phi party.  Should be fun.  I hope to actually remember the party this time, as opposed to waking up the next morning naked on someone's couch.