I just read this article from the Washington DC City Paper.
http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/display.php?id=236
Women inclined toward me thought he was a squarer Ned Flanders, and women inclined toward him thought I looked like a child-molesting garbageman. Between us, we had most of the field covered.
DYING FROM HILARITY.
DYING.
I AM.
That guy last night had nothing to do with the television show Millenium. WHAT A RIP!
The show was really rockin’. I didn’t know most of the songs because Frank Black has put out like six or a million since the last one I bought, but hey, there’s nothing wrong with hearing new stuff.
Ignoring the ones that conflict with my Wednesday and Thursday evening classes, I could go see all of these shows
Friday, November 10 7:00 PM The Whole The Alarmists with Love In October and Friends Like These
Sunday, November 12 First Avenue 8:00 PM The Decemberists
Saturday, November 25 Varsity Theater 8:00 PM Haley Bonar
Wednesday, November 29 First Avenue 8:00 PM The Black Keys
Saturday, December 02 First Avenue 8:00 PM Doomtree
Tuesday, December 05 The Entry 8:00 PM Shapes and Sizes
Tuesday, December 12 First Avenue 7:00 PM El Vez
Thursday, December 14 First Avenue 6:00 PM Gogol Bordello
Saturday, December 23 The Entry 5:00 PM Heiruspecs
I went down to the second floor of Coffman to visit the kitchen where a nice Mexican lady was preparing mole. She was grinding the ingredients with a Metate y Mano — a hunk of basalt like a rolling pin and another hunk like a small concave table. She conversed with a girl from La Raza (the student group hosting the mole workshop), but my poor command of Spanish left me mostly confused. I would catch words like Maize and canela, but most of the instructions were way beyond my understanding.
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Therapy, work, Physics lab, then a Photography midterm followed by two or three hours in the lab. That was twelve hours.
I didn’t notice until this morning that my car has been egged.
What’s really weird is that it looks like someone tried to wipe off the eggy deliciousness. Maybe they were hungry.
“I hate to break this to you, but my husband also thinks that you look like Craig Finn.”
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Tonight’s increasingly inaccurately named “class” in Mexican Folklore was held at El Colegio, a charter school for the arts and stuff, where they were holding festivities in honor of the Day of the Dead. Sadly, there were no zombies or baseball bats, but there were some great dancers, great food, and an eight piece mariachi band with an amazing female vocalist. Listening to things sung in languages which I don’t understand is like some sort of abstraction of music. I did recognize one particular spanish word which was sung more than any other.
I just won Frank Black tickets off of Radio K. I’m so excited that I just can’t hide it. I know I know I know, uh, something something.
Zach and I have done our best to make the “Wild Wild Midwest” themed homecoming maybe not so terrible. Since neither of us could bear to actually be on the homecoming committee we made our inputs via darkly sarcastic comments from the sidelines. Instead of some weird “celebration of Minnesota history” we got the cowboy and cowgirl theme that we so rightly deserve. Now if only we could enforce some Deadwood-style swearing and maybe some historic recreations of classic whorehouses we’d be fucking set.
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