I wasn't sure what to write today. I considered discussing where I was, where everyone was when the World Trade Center was attacked. At the time I was asleep, though I wasn't surprised at what had happened. Since I was a child I remember worrying about the constant war in the Middle East and how everyone seemed so unconcerned by it. While the rest of the world sweats, waits and taps its foot nervously everyone here seemed oblivious. They aren't oblivious anymore. We have a serious issue to address and now it's being addressed incorrectly.

People were shocked and truly surprised that such a thing could happen. I was shocked that so many people were unaware that such a thing could happen. It was inevitable. This world is headed towards some horrible conclusion and so many people seem unaware and indifferent.

There are so many facets to this- the changed world and how this country is viewed, false nationalism, but what disturbs me is how this event has become another product, a badge of honor for so many to wear and align themselves with. People try to relate to it through some nebulous connection- "my old employer's brother's friend's son almost went on the first plane. It's fate that kept him off."

It has been manipulated and celebrated in so many ways. TV movies have been made to allow people to feel better about themselves by showing emotion and inwardly being happy they are not involved but making themselves feel as if they were. Opposing politicians use it to bolster their issues and slander their competition. If you don't agree you may as well have been the ones with the boxcutters, right? It has become some sort of national obsession. Everyone has fallen in line and parroted the same soundbites to throw the increased scrutiny off of themselves and the danger has increased, the scrutiny has increased, the gap between the classes has increased and control has definitely increased.

I'm not as concerned with foreign powers and the threat they offer but of ourselves and what is to become of us. The world is in transition and will have difficulty progressing through it. We must find our way to the next step before we slip and lose what we have. We have the ability to be more than what humans could have ever imagined. With the knowledge and progress we have made we would be able to relieve ourselves of disease, increase human potential and explore our universe further, attaining knowledge we never could have dreamed. We have technology so brilliant yet we spend hours watching tv, eating fake foods, poisoning our minds and our bodies because that's all we can do.

Those that know this want us to be this way. This keeps us suggestible and easy to control. We are told what to watch, what to hear, how to hear it, what to eat, even how to think. Most don't even care. Life is easier this way.

On September 11th, 2001 I had a great hope. For once I thought finally mankind might wake up and realize all they had and maybe value it. In the aftermath of the attacks and the hundreds of funerals that followed I thought maybe it would start them thinking. Pain is hard. Loss is hard. I know what those things are and each time I am hurt I use it to learn and better myself. September 11th had an unendurable pain for so many people I had hoped some good would have come of it. The scales had to be balanced. For a wonderful few days I thought they would be. People were nicer to strangers, they helped each other out. It wasn't much but it was a start. People were coming together to help each other, which seemed so rare. It helped ease the pain.

Now that is over and people have gone past complacency to dissension. Everyone is suspect, everyone is responsible. The world has gone to war that will never be finished and will bankrupt our nation. Jobs are disappearing and the divide between the lessers and the greaters has turned gigantic. People die and we can only laugh or feel they have in someway earned it. This frees us from feeling like it could happen to us.

We are much worse than we were five years ago.

the government is corrupt and we're on so many drugs with the radio on and the curtains drawn
we're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine and the machine is bleeding to death

the sun has fallen down and the billboards are all leering and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

it went like this: the buildings tumbled in on themselves
mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair

the skyline was beautiful on fire
all twisted metal stretching upwards everything washed in a thin orange haze

i said: "kiss me, you're beautiful --these are truly the last days"
you grabbed my hand and we fell into it like a daydream or a fever

we woke up one morning and fell a little further down --for sure it's the valley of death

i open up my wallet and it's full of blood

- from "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor

Thankfully my schedule is returning to normal hours. The affect of those two days of little sleep followed by a lost day of slumber is gone. I want to get back into the routine of waking up, going to work, going to the gym, cooking dinner, etc.

I found a really cool clothing store called Lost World. Lots of old concert t shirt, jackets, jeans, exactly what I need to rebuild my wardrobe. I found some cool shirts and will get some jeans and a jacket or two when I start getting winter clothes. I'm wearing a Back in Black shirt I got there and it may be my new favorite shirt.

This afternoon I ran to Wrigley Field and back, which is almost three miles. I used to run a lot but hurt my foot years ago and it cramps up if I run more than a couple of blocks now. It has been a while and I feel like I've gotten too out of shape, I just had to move, I feel like I've been lazy and I don't want to get into a habit.
I really needed it, it felt good. I can really get into running. I don't know if I'll make it a constant thing, maybe every week or so. My entire system felt flushed. I sweat and my legs burned. I feel MUCH better. When I got home I did the rest of my exercises; curls, flies, squats and crunches, the whole circuit. I'm trying to keep in shape without having to run to the gym everyday. You really have to work your schedule around it and I really can't get into it now, I've got other things to worry about.

A boring entry today. I should have picked a subject rather than talk about my daily life. Nothing to report.

Wait, C called me last night when I was getting into bed and was upset about something but wouldn't say what. I think she wanted me to come over there but it was already two in the morning and I was half asleep. I barely even remember what was said. She may still be mad at me. For what, I'm not completely sure. I'm still upset about her tossing my stuff out for me to pick up and getting it stolen. That's the second time that happened this month.

People have always questioned one's integrity when they identify themselves with a faction. I never identified myself with any one group though in high school I spent most of my times with the kids that thought of themselves as punks. Other people considered them "burnouts," which is odd considering some of them had the highest gpas in the school.
I listened to metal yet didn't have long hair. I liked punk but I didn't do drugs or smoke. I have no tattoos or piercings and so far have no criminal record. When people look at my music collection they would label me "not a punk" or someome that doesn't know real metal though I never aligned myself with either of those.
What makes someone punk anyway? I always considered myself closer to the austere Fugazi ideal of straight edge, non smoking, non drinking but their main influence was the heavy drug using Bad Brains, who are considered some of the founding fathers of the movement. Yet people always try to one up each other by believing their ideal is better.

Bad Brains and Fugazi

Black Flag, who rejected punk ideals then set the template for future bands

I've seen the same thing in religion, martial arts and education. When I was younger and wanted to identify with groups I strove for that ever changing ideal, though I was completely unsure of what it was. One guy told me I had to spike my hair, another told me I couldn't listen to metal. Someone else told me I had to become educated, then politically active and forego all drugs, even sex.

Black Flag, one of the most admired bands in the genre grew their hair long and borrowed heavily from metal, a sacrilege at the time. When their fans wanted short two minute songs they recorded long instrumentals. Yet they are named one of the most influential punk bands for their work ethic. They created their own music label to record their own music, planned all their own tours and created the d.i.y. tour where they booked their own shows and made all the arrangements themselves, even going so far as to travel in one van and sleep with their equipment. The founder, Greg Ginn even rewired his guitar to give it the right abrasive sound the band is known for yet many people considered them posers at the time. They are one of the few early punk bands that has yet to fully reunite and tour.

Do people try to conform to their group's expectations because they don't have enough personality of their own or is it a need to be accepted? Why do these subcultures, which are anti establishment to begin with, so committed to conformity?

Drove through Lincoln Park today and saw all the students milling around DePaul. It reminded me, with all that's been happening lately, that I still need to get back to looking at grad schools. It's not so much that I need to, I just feel like I should get my Master's. All those people that got them seemed to be able to work around their days and fit it in and with the money I should be getting I may as well put it to something useful.

I have no job I want that requires me to get one and my career path is pretty flexible right now but another degree under my belt will do nothing but help. If anything I know I won't be wasting my time doing nothing. I do regret not getting my Master's right after school but if I had things would have turned out very differently. I may still be in Memphis, which I would hate. All I wanted at the end of undergrad was to get the hell out of there.

But what to study? I'm leaning towards History, since I've always loved it. I could take some writing related course but that most likely won't tell me anything I don't already know. I need to be more specific.

I spent the day with C and she ended up leaving my cds by the back door in the alley for me to pick up as she was leaving. I went down to get them and *suprise* they were gone. Second time this has happened to me in a month. I've had it.

I wasn't sure if I should get into this at all because it's long over but I figured I should since it was a major concern of mine on top of everything else when I first got here.

When I was living in Boston I was researching cities to see which would be the best fit. I narrowed it down to Chicago and Atlanta and had plans to visit each. Chicago was first and while there I met a woman named KT. We got along better than I could have ever hoped for and I spent the entire visit with her. By the time it was over we had made plans for me to move in with her.

Around that time I was dwelling on a lot of things. My career was stalled, I felt removed from my family and most of my friends had moved on. Boston seemed old and tired. I'd been there for too long and had done everything I could there. Every street held memories and, though I had a good time there I felt like I had to leave.

I was also wondering where my life was going. I had been through relationships and was bored with dating. I didn't expect a lot out of the women I was with because I didn't know exactly what I was looking for and when I met KT it seemed obvious. The one thing that truly made me happy was being with her, being there for her and spending my life making hers better. I wanted to be her support, show her all the happiness she's ever wanted. She talked about marriage very soon after we met. At the time I laughed it off but soon I warmed to the idea. It would be wonderful being married to this woman, despite only having known her for a short time.

As always happens, the truth began to filter through the rosy filter I was looking through. She smoked, which I couldn't stand (and broke up with girls for it in the past) and, looking back, she seemed awfully self involved. Every day was a drama for her. This fueled my need to keep her safe so I didn't notice or care at first but even in our short time together she began to show signs of emotional dependence. At the time it was part of the charm, this timid woman always looking for reassurance and attention.

On the last night we had a huge blowout. Despite having a huge amount of work to do she fell asleep after I left for the airport. We made up the next morning and discussed my staying for a few more days. I considered it but didn't plan it and wanted to get home and take care of things. As it happened, my flight was cancelled but instead of being happy she was irate when I told her. She picked me up at O'Hare rigid and angry at me for asking her for a lift back, though I offered to stay in the terminal. I took her away from the work she was rushing to finish for the next day at work.

Our last night together was the longest I spent with her. I left wondering if I would ever see her again and if I would want to. Looking back, I can see I was desperately in need of something to change my life. I needed a change and liked the idea of being a husband. We shared common interests, the same sense of humor and had the same goals. At the time that seemed to be enough.

When I returned to Chicago I planned to propose to her. All I had to do was get my things in order, plan a good weekend to move and go. The first night back she called and we had a huge fight. I was ignoring her, going out with my friend J, a female. In her eyes this was cheating and I quickly went on damage control. She didn't trust me and I spent the next few days trying to get back into her good graces.

June dragged on. If I had known what would happen on the thirtieth of June I would have enjoyed it but all I could think of the entire month was getting out to Chicago. On the sixth KT called me crying because her dad had died the month before and it was his birthday. I spent hours trying to calm her down and make her feel better, even offering to get a flight in that night.

In the month of June we talked almost daily and fought almost every time. I realize now she needed emotional affirmation though she rarely returned any affection. Twice I stopped talking to her only to have her panic and call me desperately.

I consider myself a good judge of character and have often ended things with past girlfriends after recognizing their intentions and the fact that I left this go on so long shows how desperately I wanted a real, loving relationship. Unfortunately, she was not someone that could offer it.

Katie was 38 and never married. She had been involved in a few close long term relationships, all of which she still talks about glowingly. She painted the picture of her ex boyfriends being wonderful people with only slight flaws that forced her to break up with them. Everything must be perfect for her, because she won't stick around to try to fix anything. She shouldn't have to compromise, she told me.

Still, I stayed and, despite the adolescent phone relationship we were going through, I hoped for the better. The day came for me to leave and she offered no help in getting me set up in town. In her eyes I was already out of her life. I only wish I had seen that then.

When my truck caught fire she was initially shocked but said she couldn't help me make it to town as she was leaving for a weekend at the beach that afternoon. After such a response that should have been our last conversation. When I made it into town she didn't want to see me. The last time I saw her was two weeks later.

I went to see her at the bar where she worked and was met with friendly indifference. I was set against getting close to her after being snubbed after the fire but she made no indication that I was anything other than a distant friend. I left and never saw her again.

In the weeks since we've written each other a handful of times. Mostly I initiated so I could get back the clothes I left at her house and a few of the times she ended up fighting as usual. I'd had enough and wanted nothing to do with her at that point.

I still have regrets over everything falling apart but mostly I'm comforted in knowing that the good memories we had together were never honest. I filled a role for her and once she had gotten past that she had no use for me. It was difficult at first, I put too much on her and looked for things in her she could never offer but I know it would have been worse to be with her than without her. I didn't want her as much as I wanted the idea of someone there. For what I was looking for, she fit the role nicely.

I questioned my worth as a partner and put a lot of undue blame on myself. I've always been a very caring boyfriend and held the idea that marriage is something I would excel at. I felt I'd failed and that only added to my worries of being in a new town with nothing to my name. Now I know the fact that I put so much work into it when so little was returned showed that I am more than that. It wasn't right and I can only be thankful that we only went as far as we did.

Had we stayed together there would have been almost constant fighting, followed by half hearted making up. The sex was mediocre and, like the rest of the relationship, I put more effort into it than I got back. If we were together I would never be able to work on my book as every moment of my free time would have been taken by her and I wouldn't have been able to live for myself. My main concern, my goal, is to write and I don't want anything to keep me from that. Had we stayed together I would have found it difficult to ever write again.

I attempted to write earlier but lost what I wrote after my system froze up.

It was a very full weekend. You have to understand that months ago my weekend consisted of going out with a friend for maybe a couple hours on the weekend. If I was lucky I may have a date. More often than not the date was not enjoyable.

Here I am doing my best to manage my time between the few people I met here. I'm not sure what I did to become so active though I'll blame it on the openness of the people here as opposed to the closed personalities of New Englanders, Bostonians especially. I'm normally a pretty solitary person so I'm doing my best to acclimate myself to it. It's another thing about my life that has changed completely.

Friday I saw Snakes on a Plane. I wasn't expecting much but it was much better than I expected. Without Samuel Jackson the movie wouldn't have gotten any attention and would be much less enjoyable. If they had cast anyone else it wouldn't have been the same. The role seems made for him, the right combination of comedy, bravado and coolness. It was a great drive in movie, which is what it set out to be, nothing more. If you like snakes and like seeing people bit on the face, the head, the breasts, genitals, feet and chest then it's enjoyable.

*Spoiler ahead. Skip the rest of the paragraph if you haven't seen it*



Despite all this and the suspension of belief to enjoy a film about hundreds of feral snakes smuggled about a plane, the one thing I couldn't ignore is the ending. After he delivers the line everyone paid $10 to see what is his great plan to get rid of all the snakes? Shoot out the fucking windows of the plane! and they end up landing the plane with a guy behind the controls who only flew flight simulators in video games and several of the windows missing while the remaining passengers clung to the seats and held their breath. Still, an enjoyable movie. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a sequel.

Saturday I went to Millenium Park with this cool French woman I met. She knew more about the city than I do. I hadn't been there since I came with Kam just before our last trip out west.
I got to visit my favorite Chicago attraction.



Kam is on his trip out west. I'd have loved to have gone with him but I couldn't leave right now when everything is starting to get better. He's out west again but taking another, more southern route. He went through Louisiana, then Texas. Last I heard he was at Buffalo Bill's a resort on the Nevada/CA border.

I've sent out tons of resumes and have gotten some good responses. Most of them ask why I'm free with a resume like mine and then I never hear from them again. It's like dating in Boston.

Jesus Lizard is my band of the moment.

What a pretentious fucking title "As I sleep the country awakens." I've got to do something about that. Blogs are lame bullshit anyway. Thankfully I don't think too many (if any) people read this. I wouldn't want a lot of people seeing this. I think of deleting it every day.