My nose is running

I cannot tell a lie: the new color scheme makes my eyeballs hurt. But also I just made soup that included onions (red onions) to which I am very, very sensitive.
(I am practicing putting my prepositions not at the ends of sentences lately but haven't made a lot of progress. I think that's because it was a bullshit prescriptive grammar rule invented by the English who had their huge powdered bloomers all in a twist.

This is something up with which we will not put.)

My Thanksgiving was largely traditional and largely "heartwarming." Clark did very well with the unfair amount of family and high school friends present at one event or another, and he even talked to Grandpa Mike more than I think I have ever in my whole inadequate granddaughter life. Clark Bonus: You beat three generations of Maes women in one Scrabble game! 1-up.

I don't have something overwhelmingly provocative to drop on you tonight, and I don't have much time to make up anything really, but I'll drop you a couple proverbial recommendations anyway:

CD I remembered I liked: Electric Light Orchestra's Out of the Blue. I hate using the word epic, but this album is actually kind of epic.
Show I remembered I liked: Fawlty Towers. Better John Cleese than lots of other places and a perfectly good reason to laugh at the Spanish.
Book I remembered I liked: The Phantom Fuckin Tollbooth. Critics acclaim: "It's the best book in the whole wide world." I'm reading it to Clark because he is a baby and likes bedtime stories.

Merry Christmas Season!

It's officially Christmastime here in the Inner Spider Sanctum. More cheer to come...

PS: Calvin, are you really a DJ?

Maybe I'll just write a post.

Butte was most excellent. It was great to see Olive and other, non-GSS friends. I wish I could have been there longer, which is something I never wanted to feel. I freaking love Butte despite all that its many and glaring flaws. It's in my heavy-metal filled, asbestos-ridden blood. I'd like to think my girlfriend loved it there, but I'm probably fooling myself. She took a lot of sick pictures, so I'll post those and get her to write a guest opinion of the place.

School's out in three weeks and I'm having a full-fleged nervous breakdown. It's rough to be a total visionary and try to conform to these plebes' notions of "due dates" and "deadlines." I'll deal, though, and me, Pancho, and Lefty will blow your asses off when it's all over.

Julia: Dig this documentary. Banksy accidentally made it and it's brilliant.

Max: Way cool poem. Is a Mexican hamburger different than an American one???

Olive: Ummm, stay frosty.

Calvin: I repeat: Are you actually a DJ? Post your tunes here for maximum fame and fortune, dude.

Everyone: Comment please! Tell us your favorite Christmas song! Favorite Christmas movie! Favorite Christmas sexual position! I don't care... I only want to be your virtual "e-friend."

Chicago: stop being cold and dark. It's depressing

Bill Murray: I know you're there... is Scrooged your favorite Christmas movie? I bet it is.

Checking in

Hey Bro and Broettes,

I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving. I was especially pleased to hear about Olivia’s shenanigans. On Thanksgiving I ended up running into a Colombian professor who spent the last 6 years in the United States so we went out and got Mexican hamburgers to celebrate. Dank.

Also, I’m going to echo Sam and Olivia in acknowledging, with a mixture of sarcasm and awe, the profundity of Julia’s last post. That’s what we in the English speaking world like to call a ‘think piece.’ I wrote a ‘think piece’ once for the esteemed publication ‘Rat Poison’…but everyone (namely Holt Bodish) hated it. So I haven’t tried to use my brain since.

I did write a poem though. I’m going to go out on a limb and share it with you guys. I’m sure Sam will make fun of it but that’s the only way he can show he cares. I wrote it the other afternoon while sitting in Bucaramanga’s plaza. So here it is. Free verse, babies.

Sitting on the steps

Of the Gubernación

Surrounded by bumangeses

Doing what they do

On a Monday afternoon

Smoking a cigarette

With coffee in a plastic

Cup next to me.

With a green v-neck

I bought this morning

In Cabecera

Two hours of sleep and a

Lingering hangover

From an improvised

Sunday night party.

Any hipster would die to

Look as cool as me right now.

I keep losing the words

Because I focus on my coffee.

A poor man wearing a

Spider-man t-shirt came up to me,

Asking for money for his

Wife and child right when

I wrote “I keep losing the words”

Up above. I give him 300 pesos,

The last coins I had. I chose not

To give him my 10,000 peso bill.

He said something about

Liberty being beautiful

And gave me a thumbs up

As he walked away.

In front of me I stared

At a man picking food

Out of a trash can,

As a man in a business suit

Walked by and stared at me.

Behind me is a statue of

Jose Luis Galan

I know nothing about him

I know nothing about

Colombia except what a

Self-centered 23 year old kid

Sees when he walks out into

These streets, behind a

Glass shield of privilege.

These moments on narcissistic

Introspection are delicious.

My coffee and cigarette are

Gone. I’m going to sit here

In this plaza for a few

More minutes, On my

Walk home I’m going to try

To buy a pirated copy of

A Garcia Marquez book.

Using the 10,000 pesos in my wallet.

Getting Fat with...

happy effing thanksgiving bloggers/readers/ those unfortunate souls who happened to stumble this page. now i could go off on a well-deserved rant about pilgrim and indians and rights and suffrage that eventually followed...wait. what? yeah, not going to happen. but what DID happen yesterday is that i stuffed my face hole. twice. and then i had pie. to tell you the truth by this time i was kind of getting sick of pumpkin, and i could have really gone for a slice of chocolate cheesecake... but my sister, in some sort of stroke of passive agressive-ism or selfish genius NEVER TOOK IT OUT OF THE FREEZER. so i was stuck with pumpkin. but i globbed so much freaking cool whip on it it could have been not pumpkin....just a big glob of cool whip i guess.

i honestly did try to help with the cooking, but my sisters and the head chef (i.e. my older sister's baby daddy) seemed to have collectively decided before i got there that all i was to be trusted with was the mashed potatoes. and even then after i got done peeling them all decided that my cognitive abilities stopped there and took over, whisking me out of the kitchen with promises of disney movies in the back room. so i sent the remainder of the day drinking wine, sneaking bits of food when backs were turned, listening to sister's baby daddy scream about how worthless the cowboys are this year, and diffusing arguments before they could turn into world war three and ruin my ever having any chance of turkey and green bean casserole. we had planned on taking a bunch of family photos but i think we waited too long and by the time everyone congested into the living room my youngest sister had chaged into her sweat pants, her son was screaming about his buzz lightyear toy half way across the room and my one and only niece refused to stay in her dress, so we put the kibosh on that idea real quick which is all good and well with me.
and russell showed up and that part was uneventful... mostly because i held a super-secret meeting with my family before-hand and told them to behave in what most people would consider a "normal manner" . it seems to have fooled him....for now. and then we got home and watched that weird al star wars song which was still awesome. and when i woke up this morning the poo i took has to be what having a baby feels like. especially after a bowl of granola. AND TONIGHT I GET TO GO TO BUTTE AND SEE SAM AND RACHEL AND GET REALLY DRUNK WITH THEM. but for the whole day i will be over and afore-mentioned sister's house helping er with all of those pesky left overs.

sam. see you tonight, much later than i would like because russell is stoopid.

julia.... thanks for making the rest of us look legit.

max.... i hope you got some semblance of turkey and trimmings yesterday.

calvin.... wtf.

Another blog recommendation suckas

My friend Jon is part of Pack of Strays, and offers streaming playlists of whatever shit he's been into lately. His radio show is on KBGA 89.9 Mondays 12-2.

Hey Canadians!

One of you searched "testicular cancer november no shave" and found our site. Sorry we couldn't help you with some solid medical advice or something :(

late breaking news: apparently No-Shave November raises awareness of men's health issues in some nebulous way. i did not know that.

Welp

Julia made GSS' first "try-hard" post, making the rest of us look like idiots. I hate to knock it out of the headline position with my childish language and tenuous grasp of sentence structure, but I wanted to seize this moment of intelligent discourse to say my own piece.

No, Julia, other artists have not commented on my blog, and I'm pretty sure no one at this school besides my gf (girlfriend) has seen it. SAIC is the sort of place that shuns narrative storytelling, which my current Pancho and Lefty work is, in favor of conceptual work, which I'm terrible at. The stuff I've shown in class hasn't gotten any negative reactions, but a combination of distrust of artsy morons and low self esteem has forced me to keep my head down and work on my piece in solitude until it's something I'm a little more comfortable showing off. Thankfully, two of my animation teachers are commercial animators (one is the animator of the Trix and Lucky Charms commercials) so while everyone else is showing pieces about their menstrual cycle or whatever, I can talk to them about like Duck Tales or some shit.

I'm not really sure why conceptual work is hard for me to do... I just don't want to fucking do it, man. I want to build new stuff to make people happy, not poke around in my own brain trying to find and explore like my repressed and shameful sexual fetishes. The School of the Fart Institute.

I've been totally horrifying myself lately with thoughts like, "in Montana, I wouldn't have to wait so god damned long to cross the street. No one would be honking their horns in Montana. A man is surely more free in Big Sky Country, yes sir." I never wanted to be one of those small town assholes who thrive in quiet solitude, but I can't help it. I've started listening to Johnny Cash and Gordon Lightfoot of all things and just being totally lame. I have multiple pieces of Montana clothing and hipsters are always like, "you aren't really from Montana, are you?" and then I'm all, "yes, asshole." I just want my snow and my fresh mountain air.

ladies: in montana it's okay to make out with a horse

Chicago has been more than good to me so far, though, so I guess I'll deal.

Other current mind-boggling music obsessions include:

The song Highwayman - Johnny Cash in space? Yes, please.

Billy Joel - I don't understand this one, but Movin' Out is a good song.

Fucking Wagon Wheel - I hate this song, but it makes me think of MT so I've listened to it about 8,000 times in the past few weeks.

That's all I've got. Read Julia's post below. It's much better.

PS: Hell yes 6,000 hits

we're big in fiji