I ONCE HAD A HALLWAY

The year was 2000, I was a senior in college and I had the best hallway in the world. My hallway was off a main hallway and led to two rooms. The rooms belonged to myself and Friend. We spent many a good time in that hallway. I’m not entirely sure why we did because we had two perfectly good bedrooms and one perfectly good (most of the time) common room to hang out in. Even so, the hallway was a special place.

To make the hallway even more fantastic, we decided to decorate it. The entry to the hallway was adorned with purple shiny beads that let everyone know they had entered our world. The left wall was covered with three LARGE pieces of paper that were printed with this black wavelike pattern that were just cool looking. The right wall became the “Wall of Heath”.

It was that year that Friend and I discovered 10 Things I Hate About You. Being Sarah Lawrence girls, we found it particularly amusing that the main character wanted to come to our school. It was even funnier that she was a total moody bitch who read the biggest copy of The Bell Jar (cause that book isn’t all that long) ever. It was also funny that the girl who played her younger sister was a Freshman that year. We liked to try and make her know she wasn't all that cool. It didn't necessarily work. Anyway, we were enamored with Heath Ledger. He was delightfully off in that movie. Just the type of guy we thought was awesome. He was also our age which was nice.

One day, we spent HOURS online looking up various pictures of Heath and named the files things like “really awesomely hot Heath” and “cool Heath with sunglasses”. We then proceeded to print these pictures out and paste them all over our hallway turning it into the epitome of an obsessed eleven year olds bedroom. We knew it was hilarious, we also thought he was incredibly hot.

As I am sure most people know by now, he died yesterday. The details surrounding what happened are unclear and I’m not going to speculate because I just don’t know. I do know that he made me cry in Brokeback Mountain, disgusted me in Candy, and I was/am eagerly awaiting his role in The Dark Night as the sickest looking Joker I have ever seen. The pictures on the wall are long gone. In fact, they were only up for a short while because our hallway was considered a fire hazard and we were ordered to take everything down. Sadly, there won’t be a chance for any more.

1. When the Witch Doctor Life/ throws his silent bones/ some are crowned kings/ while others lose their thrones

2. It was a clear black night/ a clear white moon/ Warren g was on the streets trying to consume

3. Riding round town with all the windows down/ Eight track playing all your favorite sounds

4. Everywhere I hear the sound of marching charging feet boy/ Cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street boy. Street Fighting Man, The Rolling Stones. Identified by Jason.

5. Goodnight/ Goodnight/ Sweet baby/ The world has more for you/ Than it seems

RIP SHOWMAN

This morning I checked my email and saw a link that a champion figure skater had died. I clicked on the link and my jaw dropped when I saw the name Christopher Bowman. I guess i had expected one of the current skaters was in a car crash or something (which would have been equally tragic)Bowman was one of my all-time favorite skaters and I had a huge crush on him (which is a little embarrassing but I was 12 and loved figure skating, who else). In 1991 when the US Nationals were in Minneapolis I took a black baseball cap and put silver puffy paint on it that said “Congratulations Chris”. When I gave it to him I received the sweatiest hug known to man.

He was 40 years old and died in his sleep at a Motel in California. It is posited that it was a drug overdose. He had many problems over the years in that area. Seen as one of the “bad boys” of skating he could easily serve as the prototype for Will Farell’s character in Blades of Glory. As I was reading some comments on the story I was shocked at how many negative things there were about him. People commenting that he couldn’t’ have been that good because they had never heard of him. Maybe they were just too young or maybe they were just assholes.

For those who followed the sport in the late 80s and early 90s, Bowman couldn’t be missed. He had a flair that few skaters have and it earned him the nickname, “Bowman the Showman”. In the article I read Boitano named Chris as one of the top three male figure skaters of all time. Maybe of US male figure skaters…. Regardless, he brought a sense of levity to the sport that is in many ways lacking in this day and age. He’ll be missed.

Bowman’s Short Program from the 1988 Olympics in Calgary. It exemplifies who he was as a skater and you can easily see where he got his nickname.


Bowman’s Long Program from the 1991 Nationals. It’s a more subtle performance, although still great.


1. Every second/ of every minute of the day/ I let my fancy play

2. OOOHH Baby/ Cry Baby/ Cry Baby/ Welcome back home

3. There are people going hungry/ Far away/ They got nothing on their plates

4. Deep in the bosom of the gentle night/ Is when I search for the light/ Pick up my pen and start to write.

5. Glue/ Stuck to my shoe/ Does anyone know why/ We play with an orange rind.

WHAT KIND OF CELEBRATION IS THIS?

I was quite saddened this morning when I read a story that a man was beaten to death at a Juneteeth celebration in Austin, TX. Apparently, a car hit and injured, although not critically, a young girl at the celebration. The driver got out of the car to check on her and was attacked. The passenger of the car got out to help the driver and was, in turn, beaten to death. The driver was able to get away.

I understand the anger that can ensue after witnessing a child being injured. I also know that there is no excuse in beating a man to death. What really tore my heart out was that this happened at a Juneteenth celebration.

People were there celebrating the fact that news of emancipation finally reached the ears of the people. Six months after the Emancipation Proclamation people were finally able to be “free”. For a celebration of freedom turn violent and destructive is a travesty. I realize that of the many thousands of people who were at the celebration, only twenty or so participated in this heinous act. That is twenty to many. The acts of these few people mar the celebration of thousands. Instead of being about celebration, the day becomes a day of mourning and regret.

A crowd of twenty falling upon and killing one man sounds like a lynching to me. That is a horrible thing to happen any day but was even more despicable on that day. It makes me wonder how many people celebrate because of what the day means and how many celebrate because it is an excuse to get out in the streets and act a fool. It makes me wonder if the fact that the man beaten to death had the last name Morales had anything to do with the willingness of the crowd to be so harsh. It made me wonder what that young girl will think when she hears about the incident years later; will she blame herself, will she care? It made me wonder so many things that I had no business wondering and shouldn’t have had to think about.

Why are people so full of anger, hatred, and disregard? I’m not stupid, or ill-informed, I could cite many many answers to the very question I just posed. However, I don’t want to. I don’t want to have to think of what in our society contributes to this kind of tragedy. I just want things to get better. I do my best to ensure that they do. I try to talk to people and make sure people understand. I am sure I could do so much more. Unfortunately, no matter how much I do, no matter if I laid down my life for the good of humanity, I don’t think things would change all that much. I don’t believe there are enough people out there who care about humanity and the strains that exist within our society that any true progress will be made anytime soon. I don’t want to feel this way. I want to have hope. Some days I even can se a light at the end of the tunnel. Then something like this happens, and it all goes dark.

1. Well my name is Young MC and I’m cold rockin’ the house/ I came up into the place and now I’m turning it out.

2. My baby’s always dancing/ And it wouldn't be a bad thing/ But I don't get no loving/ And that's no lie.

3. The creator of what’s now cliché/ Had some funny words to say/ all you little things are incomplete/ Why did he speak of us that way.

4. Just before our love got lost you said/ I am as constant as the northern star and I said/ Constantly in the darkness/ Where’s that at/ If you need me I'll be in the bar.

5. Love/ Exciting and new/ Come aboard/ We’re expecting you. The Love Boat Theme Song. Identified by Brooke.

NO TITLE IS SUFFICIENT

This wasn’t a particularly good morning. I had a stuffy nose, lethargic movements, and had to walk to the train in the kind of rain that doesn’t quite deserve an umbrella, until massive droplets fall in your sleeve as you reach up to adjust your headphones. Other than that, it was an inconsequential morning.

On the train, I got the nice seat in back by myself and set upon reading the “paper” to pass my commute. The headlines seemed drab. As much as I love to talk racism, I haven’t been inspired by the “nappy-headed ho’s” comment. I guess I prefer more hilarious racism. That comment was just stupid and mean. I can’t even laugh about it. I like my racism creative, like Michael Richards talking about people hanging from trees with forks in their asses, or completely off base and wrong, like Barack Obama not being “really black”. Mean racism like this just makes me mad. At least the guy is halfway fired at this point.

So, as I am absentmindedly flipping through the pages skimming over most articles, I turned the page and saw something that truly threw me for a loop. We have lost one of our literary giants. Kurt Vonnegut died last night. There isn’t much I can say about Vonnegut that hasn’t either already been said or could be said better by someone else. All I really can say is that I have genuinely enjoyed everything I read by him, even Timequake which was not one of his best works. Given that, it was still better than a lot of the crap out there. His writing touched all different emotions in his readers, from comedy to tragedy and everything in-between. He was truly one of the greats. And that’s all I have to say about that.



Thanks for everything, Kurt.

When You Sleep, My Bloody Valentine- I find myself strangely drawn to this band’s music. It isn’t typically something that I would find myself liking because a lot of it borders on noise. However, it is really soothing and nice noise.

Something’s Coming, West Side Story- I love all things musical. West Side Story is one where I can listen to most of the songs out of context. Even some of my favorites typically need to be in context. This is just great fun to listen to.

Big Eyed Beans From Venus, Captain Beefheart- All I can say to this is Venus on the Half-Shell and some people will understand. Others won’t.

GHOST FISH

About a month and a half ago one of our clown loaches disappeared, it was our bigger one named Bunsen. At first we took little notice because the species tends to hide a lot and that particular fish was no exception. Beaker, the smaller loach, hid a lot less and was always more outgoing. They both spend a lot of time in a little plastic rock cave thing and we figured the big one was just hiding in there. As time went by, we were a little curious as to why we hadn’t seen Bunsen but as they are nocturnal and hiders we just figured we missed it.

About a month later, neither Tony nor I had seen Bunsen. We hadn’t seen it come out to eat we hadn’t seen its tail when peering into the cave Bunsen was gone. We figured it swam up inside the little rock and maybe got stuck and died. Strangely though, there was no body. We have many scavenger fish, two catfish species (Maybe and Mr. Snodgrass), a flying fox (Jet Screamer), and Beaker. However, none of the fish seemed like the type that could eat an entire fish without us knowing. The only possible culprit was Beaker. If Bunsen had died in the cave Beaker was the only other one that went in there. It would have been a really big meal for Beaker though. Of course we had cleaned the tank while Bunsen was missing and had moved the little cave thing we didn’t see him. When we decided he must be dead, we did another tank cleaning and even took the rock out of the tank and shook it out over the toilet to try and get a body (or whatever was left of a body) out. Nothing came out and we saw nothing in the rock. We chalked it up to mystery.

Today, while watching TV, I saw a glimmer in the rock out of the corner of my eye. Beaker was swimming around and the rest of our fish don’t go in the rock. I told Tony I thought I saw Bunsen. He told me I was seeing things. But then he poked his head out of the cave. Tony saw it too it wasn’t just me. Then he came out and swam. The thing was just fine. We don’t know where he was, we don’t know how he got back in the cave, (if he ever left), we just know he is alive and well. I looked online and saw nothing about loaches hiding for that long. It’s a total mystery.

I'm leaving for that LGBTQ youth in DCFS conference in the morning so I will be absent until Thursday. Here are some tunes to remember me by.

1. Cars and girls are easy come by in this day and age,Laughing, joking, drinking, smoking,till I've spent my wage.

2. A pretty girl is like a minstrel show It makes you laugh It makes you cry You go

3. The world is spinning too fast I'm buying lead Nike shoes to keep myself tethered to the days I try to lose. 19-2000, Gorillaz. Identified by, Shadow Falcon

4. lying on the floor four stories high in the corridor between the asphalt and the sky I am caught like bottled water, the light daughter. Work Your Way Out, Ani DiFranco. Identified by Brooke.

5. I met him in a swamp down in dagoba where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbonated soda. Yoda, Weird Al. Identified by Mom.

PROBLEMS WITH THE TRAINS

So remember yesterday how I was all delayed on the train? Today I found out that there had been a gap in the rail on one of the other lines. I am very glad I wasn’t on that line and that they got the problem fixed. Apparently, yesterday was just a very bad day for trains in Chicago in general. Before my delay some electricity went out on the brown/purple line track and they had to get workers out there to hold up signs for the train conductors. That is super special. Then, Tony got stuck on the trains later in the day because apparently someone launched herself in front of the brown line.

I am going to be a very mean person for a paragraph or so here, consider yourself warned. Suicide is always a selfish act in my opinion. Only someone incredibly self-centered would take themselves out and leave such a mess for their friends and families. However, suicide by public transportation is a whole different kind of selfish. You know that it will hold up the lines and keep people from getting where they need to go. Your death could cause someone to be late to the job interview of their life and change their path forever, possibly resulting in another suicide down the road. Maybe someone was on their way to the hospital for the birth of their child. I don’t know why they wouldn’t opt for a cab in that case but maybe they just didn’t have cab money. Is your death so important that keeping someone from the start of their child’s life is ok? Then think of the train conductor. They have to live the rest of their lives knowing they ran someone over. Even if that conductor were me (and hopefully whoever was driving isn't quite as callous as I am), I would feel bad (on top of being really mad at them for taking my time and making me have to write up some sort of accident report) about driving that train and may have to quit my job.

Then, on the generally uneventful Metra, some unassuming Police officer was shot and killed in his squad car. It actually happened at my co-worker’s stop right around the time she was getting off the train. She saw the guy’s car in a parking lot across the street with the lights on. I guess he patrols from there sometime. However, these people said they noticed him in his car and reported it, which she says is crazy. As his car was parked in an empty lot across the street from anything and it was dark, how did these people see into his car, past the beams of the headlights, and notice he was slumped over. So the question is, why were they close enough to see?

Huh, this has been an utterly depressing post. As a transition between this horrid stuff and the wonderful music that I enjoy so much I will give you one of the cleverest misheard lyrics I have come across in a while. “Lady Elaine, lay across my big brass bed,” for those of you who don’t know the lyric is “Lay lady lay, lay across my big brass bed,’ and Lady Elaine is a very strange, and rather unattractive, puppet from Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. Why anyone would want her laying across their bed is a total mystery to me.

Yesterday people guessed almost all my songs. I was very impressed. Then again, as I said, those songs were pretty easy. We have one left and anyone who hung out with me in 8th grade should know it. I don't think many people in that category read this though. Four new songs will follow.

1. This pig harassed the whole neighborhood. Well this pig worked at the station. This pig he killed my homeboy so the fucking pig went on a vacation. Pigs, Cypress Hill. Partially identified by Monica and fully identified by an unknown person.

2. It’s a still-life watercolor of a now late afternoon, as the sun shines thought the curtain lace and shadows wash the room. The Dangling Conversation, Simon and Garfunkel. Identified by (I called it again) Mom.

3. When I had you to myself I didn’t want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd. I Want You Back, Jackson 5 (certainly not Puff Daddy) identified by a different unknown person.

4. I am walking out in the rain and I am listening to the low moan of the dial-tone again and I am getting nowhere with you and I can’t let it go and I can’t get through. Both Hands, Ani DiFranco. Identified by (who called it) Brooke.

5. Monday morning wake up knowing that you’ve got to go to school. Tell your mom what to expect she says it’s right out of the blue. Expectations, Belle and Sebastian. Identified by (3 of 4 ain't bad)Monica

Damn, this shit is easy too. Well maybe not quite as easy as the last group but there are some readers out there who I know are perfectly aware of what those last four songs are. Like I can almost promise that my Mom knows 2 and maybe 3, Monica has 3 and 5 (unless Jaclyn gets 5 first), and Brooke has 4. I suppose I could be wrong though.

GOODNIGHT SWEET PRINCE

I miss Steve Irwin. I have to admit that in recent years I have looked to other wildlife daredevil types rather than the old staple Crocodile Hunter. My favorite is the guy who yells the name of whatever animal he encounters "Octopus, octopus, octopus" and is in general a total spaz. However, you can never discount the original. He truly was an entertaining guy.

Ok, so I had just written this very sweet post about Steve Irwin and it got deleted somehow when I tabbed away from the page. I only hope this recreation of the post is as endearing and wonderful as the original had been. I’m sorry if it isn’t.

There was a time when shows about some guy running through the wild were rare and, if they existed, were very dull. Not anymore. Who do we have to thank for that? Steve Irwin. He brought an excitement and enthusiasm to nature shows that had been sorely lacking. He allowed us to look at our primal instincts. He let us all revert to a conquer or be conquered relationship with the natural world around us. He fulfilled something that most of us are lacking in the concrete jungle, a true relationship with Mother Earth.

I would be lying if I said I never wanted to see him get his face bit off. I think that is part of his charm. Because he was playing with the unpredictable, there was a sense of urgency and danger in everything he did. Every episode triggered my “fight or flight” response. It also triggered my long suppressed bloodlust. You would think that he was mauled by a croc or something but I knew that couldn’t have been it. I mean he had those crocs in check. It was apparently a freak stingray accident. See a stingray can hurt a human but generally won’t kill. This particular sting just happened to pierce his heart. Part of me really wants to see the footage of this accident. Don’t lie, part of you does too. Or maybe you don’t and I have just been revealed as a sick and twisted individual. Oops. I also wonder if his wife was shooting this footage, I heard she did a lot of the camera work on his shows. That is so tragic to think about that I don’t want to and will now stop.

Instead of continuing with the unidentified songs I will instead select a few to go down in history as Odes To Steve Irwin. Wanna hear it, here it goes.

Little Wing, Jimi Hendrix- Not only is this one of the greatest songs ever; it had a line that just fit. “Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and a fairy tale. That’s all she ever thinks about, riding with the wind.” See change she to he and you got a Croc Hunter theme song. Just nature at its best.

Let’s Do Everything For The Fist Time Forever, Of Montreal- Ok so I happen to be in the midst of a sick Of Montreal obsession but this song is just sweet and youthful and magical, like Steve Irwin. I want to watch TV like I was watching Croc Hunter for the first time and have that same excited exhilarated feeling forever.
Don’t You Forget About Me, Simple Minds- I won’t forget about you Steve, you will always be in my heart. Let’s give it one big “Crikey!” for old time’s sake.