these pretzels are making me thirsty!
Not to plug a corporate monster record store or anything, but Tower Records has a remarkably nice selection of alternative magazines. I went there yesterday looking for the new McSweeney's, but I guess its not out yet (I've always had trouble reconciling the publishing dates on magazines). Since I was already planning on dropping twenty bucks on glossy rags, I grabbed a handful of amusing alternative pubs including Modern Drunkard which is like the son I've always wanted but never had. Each issue is chock full of articles with titles like how to drink your way to health (2), the zen of drinking alone, and how to ace an intervention. Yet what sold me on this month's issue was a list of 40 Things Every Drunk Should Do. I shed a single tear over how many of the items I hadn't done:
#5: Spend a night in a drunk tank
#19: Sit in on an A.A. meeting
#9: Get 86'ed from a bar
#6: Get drunk on the grave of your hero
#1: Open and close a bar
... Just to name a few... But as lugubrious as the incompleteness of this list made me, it also filled me with hope. I was reminded that I still have plenty of years and thousands of miles left on my liver to become an utter lush and that gives me strength. And courage. Liquid courage called alcohol. *love, r.
Tuesday, March 2, 2004
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Sunday, February 8, 2004
boulevard of hungry eyes
I've been thinking about this article about mike mills a lot over the past couple of days. For some time I've been salivating at the work and lifestyle of the directors' bureau like many other film students out there, I suppose. The thing that struck me about this article is Mills' unflinching dedication to not getting a "job." While it is a point of pride for me that I've made it all the way through college completely on my own dime with no loan debt to follow me into the "real world," I can't help but wonder if having worked all this time at jobs totally unrelated to my field has allowed me to justify not really ever focusing on my chosen career. Now that I'm getting close to graduation, close to leaving the warm protective bussom of the college student moniker, I'm being forced against my will to make decisions. Right now I'm confused but incredibly comfortable. I have a decent (though dead-end) job, I don't work too many hours but still make enough to cover my expenses, I have a great girlfriend and I live in cool part of a city that I love where there always plenty of activities to satisfy my need for constant distraction. I could go on like this for a while I suppose, without any real concern for the abstract pursuit of a "career." My ambition isn't dried up completely, but experience has certainly made it shrink. School, my last semester, is underway and my anxiety grows in inverse proportion to the number of days before graduation. The "real world" is about to be barrelling down on me like the freight train that killed the psychic. We both should have seen it coming. *love, r.
I've been thinking about this article about mike mills a lot over the past couple of days. For some time I've been salivating at the work and lifestyle of the directors' bureau like many other film students out there, I suppose. The thing that struck me about this article is Mills' unflinching dedication to not getting a "job." While it is a point of pride for me that I've made it all the way through college completely on my own dime with no loan debt to follow me into the "real world," I can't help but wonder if having worked all this time at jobs totally unrelated to my field has allowed me to justify not really ever focusing on my chosen career. Now that I'm getting close to graduation, close to leaving the warm protective bussom of the college student moniker, I'm being forced against my will to make decisions. Right now I'm confused but incredibly comfortable. I have a decent (though dead-end) job, I don't work too many hours but still make enough to cover my expenses, I have a great girlfriend and I live in cool part of a city that I love where there always plenty of activities to satisfy my need for constant distraction. I could go on like this for a while I suppose, without any real concern for the abstract pursuit of a "career." My ambition isn't dried up completely, but experience has certainly made it shrink. School, my last semester, is underway and my anxiety grows in inverse proportion to the number of days before graduation. The "real world" is about to be barrelling down on me like the freight train that killed the psychic. We both should have seen it coming. *love, r.
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