A Treatise on Hummus

Tesco, purveyors of mediocre foodstuffs in the UK and elsewhere, had an off-brand of hummus that was (as expected) not so hot. It got the job done, but I've definitely had better. I expected Eugene, Oregon to have a wide variety of hummus options, but I've been sticking with Emerald Valley to, you know, go local. And you know what? I don't really like it. But that's not the point here. The point is: how the hell does one spell hummus? I've seen -ous and variants on that theme and I find it all confusing because every spelling is more or less phonetic, thanks to the inner vowel-demons of the English language.

That was less a treatise and more a rant, but I've got to start somewhere. When last I wrote, I was in Anchorage and not altogether happy about that. Now I'm in Eugene and okay with that. Granted that the current apartment leaves a bit to be desired, but I'm once again in a classroom where I'm expected to be a somewhat serious student and my brain, if nothing else, feels refreshed. In other smalltalk, it was absolutely scorching, upwards of 100 degrees Fahrenheit, for a long weekend. Unacceptable. Alaskans are not built for that. Cooler now, thankfully. Also: Lolly stopped by and we'll be seeing Neko Case together and hitting up a bar on trivia night and and and! Very happy to see my co-giraffe.

My current class, a 4-week intensive number on feminist theory, excites me because I'm already starting to argue in my head with some of the texts. Women's and Gender Studies seems, at least at UO, to be a mix of subjects -- mostly sociology and other social sciences -- but without the bullshit that one finds in those classes ("What is a social structure?" springs to mind.) On the other hand, it's Oregon, so we're all middle class white girls. A few queers. Perhaps different religious backgrounds, but I'm hoping discussions take off beyond the liberal democrat baselines upon which we can all settle.

Let's see. Neko Case concert tomorrow. A few new CDs and a book to arrive over the next three weeks. My space bar is acting up. Moving sucks. Nothing groundbreaking to report, but I am alive and will write more. Swearsies.

UPDATE: According to the Pentagon, homos like me are no longer mentally ill. It only took until 2006 to not be crazy in the eyes of the military. God bless America! Link.

This post brought to you by jet lag and insomnia

It occurred to me this evening that I love Alaska in spite of myself. That is, even though I do the same three or four things here over and over and over while I'm here, it's still revitalizing to be back, to have mountains and trees and ocean again. I spent almost all day today outside, and I'd forgotten how euphoric that makes me feel. Not to say the Vienna woods weren't beautiful or that I couldn't have gone for a bike ride in Norwich. Nonetheless, Alaska -- and Anchorage -- have a very odd hold on me. In all likelihood, this feeling will pass when the place starts to feel cloyingly small, as it usually does. That's when no amount of hiking or biking or really great pizza can make me want to stay. A downside of being nomadic is the creeping sensation that no place is really home anymore. Alienation blows.

On the lighter end of things, I'm working on several books at once, which I haven't done in a long time. I haven't written about books in a while.

40 Stories by Donald Bartheleme
His prose is really crisp and cutting, but I've been so fried lately that I can't really pay adequate attention. It's a recent purchase, so I don't feel obligated to rush through it. Which is just as well, since the stories are really dense.

After Babel by George Steiner
Another dense tome. This little gem of translation studies lore weighs on my conscience. I bought it last summer hoping to get a jump on my thesis (ha!) and so far I've made no progress since then, unless you count starting over and reaching roughly the same place at which I left off. Ideally, I'll have this finished by July, but if I can't concentrate on the Barthelme, you know, fun stuff, then the academic reading is doomed until I get my head back to earth. It doesn't help that this guy is one of those theorists who gets condescending when referring to those feminists.

White Teeth by Zadie Smith
This woman does not care about her characters. The book makes me chuckle, but it's so indifferently written (and honestly, a let-down considering the hype it got back in the day) that I'm starting to not care. Has anyone else read this?

The Best American Non-Required Reading 2005 edited by Dave Eggers, intro by Beck
First: the introduction is by BECK. Second: I have my beefs with the Dave Eggers literary rockstar juggernaut, but this collection is consistently enjoyable and tends to include at least a few of my favorite authors each go-around. Aimee Bender, for one. (Bonus Dave Eggers rant: The guy does good work for the children, which I am all about, naturally. The guy's also got a reputation and an ego, which I could do without. The thing that bothers me is that he plays a seminal rule in the McSweeney's canonization process, being one of the high-ups in a lit organization that decrees what's hip. So the hipster dollar follows certain patterns. Even if these authors deserve the credit -- and they often do, again Bender comes to mind because she rocks -- the creation of an in-club runs counter to my idea of what groups like McSweeney's ought to do. You know, be the scouts for new talent instead of gimmicky, self-conscious hit-or-miss collections that place as much value on design as content.) That said, Third: Tony Millionaire did the cover and there are comics by Joe Sayers and Anders Nilsen in there. I'm 100% justified.

I've also been picking at the last month or so of The New Yorker, but nothing serious. Chances are I'll reread Moby Dick, or at least parts of it before I leave the Land of Whales. On a closing note: Everyone should read more Amy Hempel and A.M. Homes.

Whole lotta walkin' got done

It's the end of an era. These shoes got me through 11 countries (not counting one or two that I passed through en route to somewhere else) and 10 months of hiking, plodding, trotting, dashing and dancing. I wore them to the opera in Vienna and the Grand Bazaar in Turkey and the National Gallery in London and the Erotica Museum in Berlin and hash bars in Amsterdam and the long walk in Auschwitz. Since November or so, I've needed new shoes. I deferred the purchase time and time again, until I was in a cheaper country, until I wore them down, until until. Despite my outcry at shoe prices and ridiculous attempts to be stoic (I ran through pairs of insoles this year too), it was more of a personal mission to see them through the year, however tattered and stanky they may be. I threw them out yesterday, and have since worn only my sandals. Loyalty to objects is a weakness of mine that I can't really figure out. I made sure I tossed them just before the garbage got taken out, so I wouldn't imagine them pining for me from the rubbish bin. Is it strange to consider their life in a landfill akin to retirement, since they don't get kicked around and can stink freely? Is it strange that I'm this sad?

Crumbly Cheese or What the British Haven't Quite Killed

British cuisine is everything people say it is: greasy, gravy-laden and cooked to a second death. I won’t sugar coat it – the food here sucks. In that sense, I’m grateful that I can’t really afford to go out to eat since the over-abundance of Yorkshire puddings (cup shaped bits of fried/baked dough that one fills with whatever is at hand and gravy) would probably kill me. But it’s not all bangers and mash. Crumbly English cheese, the likes of which I was slicing for a sandwich this evening, has its uses. In fact, the best scrambled eggs I’ve made this year were Crumbly English Cheese fortified. Allow me to share. I sautéed some onions and peppers until they started to smell good and added the scrambly egg/milk mixture (I actually used cream at the time because that was all I had – turned out well.) I let ‘em all cook for a couple minutes, then threw some CEC (cheddar or red Leicester – I can’t remember which) on there to melt. At the end, I seasoned with salt, pepper, oregano and a tiny pinch of sugar. Best served with sausages, with the British also do quite well.

Some other folks around the dorm went in on a barbeque together, and I have to say that I enjoy the free-for-all style of grilling better than the organized gathering. At any given point, one to half a dozen people had food of all sorts cooking away -- from chipolatas to veggie patties to mangled cans of corn. It was a little more egalitarian. The tyranny of the grillmaster was broken into a selection of cooking styles and times. Condiments flowed freely, as did beer. I couldn't help but think that it easily topped family barbeques because of a sheer lack of hierarchy. And my burgers totally rocked ass.

A couple of days left in England now -- a handfull of hours, really. The pre-packing panic hasn't set in yet, but hey! I've got all day today and tomorrow for that!

So look out for this place

in the upcoming flick Stardust, with Claire Danes and Robert de Niro. I believe it's based on a Neil Gaiman book, so chances are, I'll be dragged to it. Anyway, they're filming here, Elm Hill, which is definitely a part of my Norwich stomping ground. The film comes out next year, I believe.

In the Immortal Words of Charlie Brown

From the film Snoopy Come Home, "I hate goodbyes. You know what I need? I need more hellos." A very dear friend left for her home in Finland, and I likely won't see her for a while. My Swiss flatmate Alex took off a week and a half ago. I'm leaving the sordid little burgh of Norwich myself shortly. After I graduated from high school, I realized that there were dozens -- if not hundreds -- of people that I would no longer see and think about. I asked my mom if this had something to do with Growing Up or Coming Of Age or something like that. A military brat who had lived on three continents before reaching teenagehood, she was so used to goodbyes that my seemingly monumental sadness was a bit surprising. Now, I don't always listen to my mom, but she said that the hellos just have to outnumber the goodbyes. It was cold comfort at 18, but it's clearer and more useful now that I've met eine Menge of awesome people who live all over the world, people I will want to know for the rest of my life. It's hard not to be sappy right about now. I leave Europe in less than 5 days, and that's really, really difficult to both type and believe.

In other news, I made an apple pie from scratch last week. Crust and everything. Am I proud? You bet your ass! Until recently, pie crusts were one of those insurmountable culinary goals that I took for granted. "It's so hard to get right and takes so much practice," I thought in my naivete, "I may as well cut my losses and go with store-bought crusts rather than face the shame of inadequate crusts. Well. All of this was before I met Randi the Pie Expert, who conveniently lives in my dorm and completely rocks besides. A lesson ensued. Pies-a-plenty, I tell you what. There's no breakfast quite like cold apple pie and coffee. At any rate, the secret seems to be keeping the butter (and the crust as a whole) cold. Grating frozen butter and then combining with flour -- genius.

Said Finnish friend, Saga, turned me onto funk and soul this semester. I'd encourage all my sassy soul sistas and brothas to check out Ann Sexton (no, not THAT one) and Ann Peebles. And you can never go wrong with Sly and the Family Stone.

The sun is actually out here, so I think I'd best take advantage of that rare light and take the rest of my slides of Norwich. I've forgotten what's on my Vienna roll. Hm.

oh, the anxiety

So I'm afraid of coming home. More than a little bit. I've gotten so accustomed to being away, to sinking myself in this life here, not that life there. The more things I add to the list of Stuff I'd Never Done Before, the less familiar home (Anchorage? Eugene? Portland?) feels.

I have a very tight connection in Boston. Totally banal, but stressing me out.

At any rate, I'm working on getting this thing up and running again. Focusing on my old loves (photos, cooking, booksnmusic, handy things, bitching and so on), but with more diligence, and hopefully, more insight than the typical out-pouring of mental material. I'd like to make this into something.

In the meantime, if you haven't heard of the Swedish singer Jenny Wilson, look her up now now now. The album Love and Youth rocks unquestionably. A bit Feist-esque, but funkier.

Under construction

Not really in appearance, but in content. You know, as in writing here once in a while. Links and stuff too. Maybe even a picture.

Hate to put it down

I'm starting to think that the posting frequency around here is a sign that maybe, maaaybe I should drop this blog thing. The mission at the outset, some rambly freshman-in-college crap about self-discovery, remains unaccomplished. It's a good bitching post and occasional place to stretch my writerly muscles, but it's not exactly topping the priority list.

Anyway. I'm in England. Tomorrow, I'll journey from the sleepy little burg of Norwich to the Big City. Life is generally good, but I still feel bad sometimes. That sounds oversimplified, but when ya gots depression, ya gots depression. But a lot of things counteract that. My flatmates, my friends in any part of the world, the fact that I'm writing again, the fact that I might not have to pay tuition this term, Achewood, chocolate in abundance, good ales, adventures. If I wallow in self-pity, I know I'll regret it looking back on this whole excursion. Sure, Norwich is boring at times and the weather sucks and sometimes I feel like shit, but...you know. Optimism and all.

I refuse to self-destruct!

Safely in London, by way of Berlin and Amsterdam. Sorely missing everyone, as I'm traveling very alone. Especially sorely missing Kyle, but maintaining perspective -- I'm in LONDON, for christ's sake.

and realizing just how terrible I've been about this whole blogging escapade for about a year now. Expect pictures in about a week from all major ports of call. For the moment, I'm very restricted in my uploading capabilities.

I had a single room in this long-term hostel, although I have a roomie for the next two days. She seems nice. I woke her up after my extremely long jaunt to the Science and Natural History museums. I wanted to hit the Victoria and Albert (all three are walking distance from this place -- just off Notting Hill Gate, if that means anything), but the Underground workers are all on strike tonight (of all nights!) so everything closed early.

Yesterday, I tooled around the area, hit up Portobello Road, bought strawberries, ate them. There was some reading involved, and some more wandering. Stumbling across a very cheap bookstore (novels I actually want for £2!) made a small dent in my wallet, only exacerbated by the AWFUL F-ING EXCHANGE RATE. Wrote a couple postcards, found a few that I meant to send earlier.

It's probably no surprise to any of you that this is rather difficult. Newly single, wandering alone in the largest city I've ever been to, and living in a situation that could best be described as dorm-like -- all the ingredients for being "in my head" altogether too much. But I set out on this year intent on learning to be alone, and I'm determined to do it.

I miss everyone nonetheless. Your emails mean so much to me. I know I've been delinquent, but I have the time and access to respond adequately now.

My editor sense tingled today.

The Viennese love to hang out their windows, even if their view isn't particularly great. Especially if their view isn't that great, actually. This is a contemplative city -- going to a coffeehouse to read a paper or making a jaunt in the Wiener Wald, alone or accompanied, are two favorite pastimes here that transcend the snooty, opera-going stereotype. It's hard to make friends here -- city slickers are closed-off to begin with, and the Viennese exemplify that one big time. But when you catch a man leaning out his window from your Straßenbahn station and wave, you might get a rare smile. Or if you happen to be ogling the sweets in the window of the confectioner on Langegasse and Alserstraße with a chuckling grandma, it doesn't hurt to say, "Alles sieht lecker aus, oder?" Something intangible about the Viennese has thoroughly charmed me. I think it's because they play hard to get, but stare at the street corners with thoughts in their eyes.


And, because I love Laura enough to do a silly meme:

Five Songs I've Been Listening to Obsessively This Week

all for swinging you around -- the new pornographers
cold cold water -- mirah
sister golden hair -- america
more adventurous -- rilo kiley
woman king -- iron and wine

and because I hate memes and am inclined to rebel generally, one more.

brown-eyed girl -- van the man

I bought an earflap hat so people would take me more seriously as an artist

I have this joke with my friends here. It goes a little something like this: I'm normally pretty scatterbrained -- this everyone knows. So I'd pass off importantish things like directions or train tickets to my roommate Jenn. She's the responsible one, I'd say, I'm just the comic relief. But one day, I kept the tickets. Puttin' on my Big Girl Pants, says I. The friends were impressed. A freeloader no longer, I proceeded to find my way around Vienna, Venice, Florence and Bratislava. I've learned the streetcars and subways here. I'll walk to my friends' houses confidently, without getting lost or harassed. Unless I'm with Americans, I only speak German. The Big Girl Pants are here to stay, right? Well...

Christmas is coming up. Even though I tend toward apathy at best and grinchiness at worst, the lights in the streets and bakery smells have really put me into a festive, lovey sort of mood.

Everyone in my classes won't stop talking about going home.

So now I'm fighting tears because I'm NOT going home and I DON'T have a plan or a clue where I'll be after December 16th. I'm scared, and I don't want my Big Girl Pants because they can't give me a hug. Homesickness, thy name is Erica.

For clarity

I will not be returning for the holidays. I'll see Alaskans in June and Oregonians sometime after that, depending on finances. But this is depressing, so read the entry below.

love.

Abenteuer!

Things I've done for the first time in the past six weeks:

Visited Poland, Germany, Hungary and Italy.
LEFT MY EFFING CAMERA IN THE HOSTEL IN VENICE.
Climbed a small mountain to a secluded Italian town.
Felt completely incompetent in three different languages.
Had a layered shot (two, in fact, with names that'll make you blush).
Been mistaken for a Swede, a Brit and a German successively.
Gone an entire day without speaking English.
Taken 100+ photos in a day. Six hours, really.
Made friends with folks without knowing a word of their language (offering chocolate always helps -- he gave me and my friends each a 10 ruble note. Russian money is rather pretty.)
Started Gravity's Rainbow.
Started Harry Potter (the first) in German.
Finished neither.
Studied less than three hours a week.
Tried countless new types of food and drink.
Stayed up all night waiting for a train.
Stayed up all night partying with two Midwesterners and a dude from New Zealand.
Adjusted to the German/Austrian keyboards, more or less.
Felt at home on a continent I'm not from.
Seen a giraffe in the flesh (!!!)
Gotten lost without panicking.
Purchased pizza by the kilo.
Been alone but not lonely.
Eaten organ meats.
Seen an underground Viennese hip hop show.
Smoked two cigarettes in two weeks. Slippery slope, people. I blame Ness.
Text messaged. Extensively.
Purchased a t-shirt with none other than Pope John Paul II on the front.
Neglected my blog thoroughly.

I could continue, but that would probably take hours. Hopefully my emails and pictures (www.flickr.com/users/ericarothman) find everyone well.

08.30.2005 -- Sam's Last Show

Because of Samuel K, I was inducted into the fascinating and seductive world of college radio. Needless to say, I'd like to have a show at UO, during grad school, and probably for the rest of my life. It's been awesome. Bold face indicates Sam's mom's tracks. She was our guest DJ, and I mean it sincerely when I say it rocked.

Blonde Redhead -- Elephant Woman
Scrabbel -- 1909
Rogue Wave -- Seconds

Nobody -- Wake Up and Smell the Millennium
Seachange -- News From Nowhere
Mclusky -- To Hell With Good Intentions

Sufjan Stevens -- The Man of Steel Has Stolen Our Hearts
Sun Kil Moon -- Lily and Parrots
Chemical Brothers -- The Boxer (request)

LCD Soundsystem -- Daft Punk is Playing at My House
Quasi -- It's Raining (giveaway)
Plastic Bertrand -- Ca Plane Pour Moi
Death From Above 1979 -- Little Girl
The Saints -- Messin' with the Kid

The Cripples -- Down Again
Autolux -- Here Comes Everyone
Pavement -- Jackals, False Grails: The Lonesome Era

Wilco -- Heavy Metal Drummer
Ique -- Hamachi
Shonen Knife -- Catnip Dream

The Shins -- Girl on the Wing
Modest Mouse -- Blame it on the Tetons
Radiohead -- Myxomyiatosis

The Dandy Warhols -- We Used to Be Friends
The Clash -- Straight to Hell
The Go! Team -- Panther Dash

X -- The World's a Mess/It's in My Kiss
The Thermals -- How We Know
Nobody -- Jose De La Rues

Carbon Leaf -- Life Less Ordinary (request)
Vast Aire -- 9 Lashes
Boom Bap Project -- 1,2,3,4
Bishop Allen -- Broken Heart (giveaway)
New Pornographers -- The Bleeding Heart Show

08.23.2005 Set list +1!

The New Pornographers -- Twin Cinema
Menomena -- Sista Social Theme Song
Jens Lekman -- A Man Walks into a Bar

The Faint -- Take Me to the Hospital
Four Tet -- Smile Around Your Face
Supersystem -- Born into This World

De Novo Dahl -- Jeffrey
The Cripples -- Contraception
The Moon Knights -- It's All For You

Band of Bees -- Horsemen
Doug Martsch -- Woke Up This Morning
Beat Happening -- Teenage Caveman

The Long Winters -- Carparts (giveaway)
Smallspace -- So We Say...
Scrabbel -- 1909
PJ Harvey -- This is Love

Boom Bap Project -- Cut Down Ya Options
Z-Trip -- Take Two Copies
Felt -- Morris Day
13 & God -- Soft Atlas

Kane Hodder -- Jason Dean was a Teenage Liberator
The Saints -- Wild About You
Fugazi -- Give Me the Cure
Tiger Bear Wolf -- You Play Guitar

Jack Johnson -- Sexy Plexi (Request)
The Constantines -- Steal this Sound
Preston School of Industry -- If the Straits of Magellan Should Ever Run Dry
...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead -- Baudelaire

Gomez -- Chicken Out (Request)
Ted Leo + Rx -- The Angel's Share
Bettie Seveert -- Kid's Alright
Kings of Convenience (with Feist) -- The Build Up

Sufjan Stevens -- Chicago
alaska! -- Fury of Trees (giveaway)
Jean Knight -- Mr. Big Stuff (giveaway)
Guitar Wolf -- Can-nana Fever (Jet version)
The Go! Team -- Junior Kickstart

Next Tuesday is Sam's Last Show Featuring DJ Sam's Mom. It's going to be poignantly awesome. Also, Sam's mother rocks.

Actually took some pictures yesterday. That's good. It keeps me from moping about not taking pictures. Funny how that works.

I've been making a habit of getting up no earlier than 8:30 (work's at 9), and it's made me consistently 3 minutes late. Except for Tuesday and Wednesday this week, in which I came to work early because of the radio show and my annual respectively. I won't get into the annual too deeply (of course), but apparently I'm at extremely low risk for virtually every STD. woo hoo to that!

The abroad business is starting to make me antsy. I've done a lot of little errands, but moving my bank account (urgh), buying a train ticket from Frankfurt to Vienna ($$), and finally finishing all my trip-related reading and note-taking (whee!) still loom large.

Also: I sympathize with my parents MORE THAN EVER now. My brother (age 16) has been a sinkhole of negativity, anger, sarcasm (not that that's a shock), and this bizarre brand of hypocritical laziness that allows him to complain about EVERYTHING but fix absolutely nothing. The complaining encompasses things as minute as the encrusted salsa on the rim of the salsa jug. And my existence. That pisses him off. If he's really upset, he gets defensive and starts attacking me for the very things that (I think, anyway) he's guilty of. Of which he is guilty. I've been making an effort to spend more time at home to get some time in with my parents, but the boy is making that extremely difficult. The little smart ass is always planted in front of the computer (necessitating, or at least partially justifying the use of the computer at work, right?) usually with the television on as well. You see, he was there first, so he exerts a sort of ownership over the entire basement movie-watching, hanging-out, email-checking area. And it's a monster inconvenience to his schedule for me to do any of those things. Particularly with Kyle. I'll curtail the rant, but the kid is driving me nuts. It feels like he's going out of his way to make me feel like even more of a visitor -- an interloper, even -- in my house. I've got to say, if I could show 15 year old Erica video of 16 year old Adam, I'd've probably cut my folks a little more slack.

Round 'n' round

Happy Birthday to Kyle.

RIP Robert Moog.

Well.

I just had the pleasure of listening to the group I thought I had forgotten or repressed. That's right, America's answer to the Vienna Choir Boys: Hanson. Not just any song either. But Mmmbop. Damn it, headphones exist for a REASON!

Every song that has ever sucked is on this girl's mp3 player and pours out of a nifty little set of speakers. About 9 yards away from my little island of appraisal reports and bitterness. GRAH!

08.16.2005 Set List

Sufjan Stevens -- Jacksonville
Flaming Lips -- A Spoonful Weighs a Ton (Request)
Feist -- Mushaboom

Iron and Wine -- The Trapeze Swinger
Elliot Smith -- Pretty (Ugly Before)
The Shins -- Saint Simon (Request from SPOKANE, WARSHINGTON)

Josh Homme -- Hanging (AKA Ramble Off)
The Ruby Doe -- Red Letters
Hot Snakes -- Hatchet Job
Mission of Burma -- Dirt

YACHT -- Daydreams with Daffodils (Stepper2 remix)
Pepe Deluxe -- Ask For a Kiss
Nobody - Tori Oshi
Malcolm Kipe -- Mans Vents
Erland Oye -- Rubicon

The Mercury Rev -- Black Forest (Lorelei) (Giveaway)
The Boy Least Likely To -- I See Spiders When I Close My Eyes
Kinski -- Hidden Drugs in the Temple (Part 2)

Autolux -- Blanket
Mudhoney -- Suck You Dry
Clinic -- T.K.
The National -- Secret Meeting

Archie Bell and the Drells -- Tighten Up
Stan Getz & Charlie Byrd -- Desafinado
Walter Wanderley -- Summer Samba
Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong -- Under a Blanket of Blue
B.B. King -- If You Love Me

Wesafari -- Shooting Stars
The Wrens -- I Married Sonja
Yo La Tengo -- From a Motel 6
General Patton & X-ecutioners -- Duelling Banjo Marching Drill (Request)

Digby -- Left You Behind (Giveaway)
2mex -- Once Again
Vast Aire -- Supafriendz
Wiley -- Wot Do You Call It

Boom Bap Project -- Following Formulas
Elvis Costello -- The Beat
Viva Voce -- Alive with Pleasure

We only have a couple of shows left this summer, and I'll miss having the show. I heard more new music this summer than any time before (even those frightful years when I listened to the radio -- KWHL, usually -- waaay back when.) I developed a taste for hip-hop -- mushrooms may be next. Maybe. Urgh. Maybe not. Anyway, I need to find out if I can get a show at UO, or even UEA.

Yeah. About that. There's been some confusion, or poor PR on my part. Starting September 14th, I'm in Europe (Vienna, then Norwich) until June (maybe later). Just before (10th or so) I spend a couple of days in Boston, to see folks and the coast to which I've never been (north of the Mason-Dixon line.) So email me your home address if you want postcardage. Which will be happening, unlike email, which kinda doesn't.

Shaking the streets

This job has a fair few perks, but one of the more interesting is that I look at a lot of maps of Anchorage. Which is cool. I like maps. I always have. But these high-detail neighborhood maps get tedious after awhile. To keep myself entertained/not gibbering under my desk, I've been compiling a list of funny street names. The subdivision names are great too. Those will come later, though.

Runamuck Road
Woo Blvd -- Mind you, this boulevard is not named for a notable Anchorage citizen of Asian descent. No. This boulevard is named after the noise people emit on snowmachines.
All Star Circle -- This is in my old neighborhood, but it appeared after I moved away in seventh grade. Around the same time I was listening to some Smash Mouth song...
Bunny Shoe Circle
Shepherdia Drive -- Eh? Sheep?
Habicht Ct. -- Bless you, city planner.
Crataegus Avenue -- Do the people who live on this street know what that word means? Does anyone?
Doggie Avenue
Grape Place
Stroganoff Drive
Pequod Circle -- Call me chuckling.
Sea Parrot Drive
Buttermilk Way
Twenty Grand Drive -- Twenty grand of what?
Klinger Circle -- We got a M*A*S*H fan in the house!
Hottentot Mine Road
Eatwood Loop
Das Acres -- SCHNELL!
Grand Larry Drive -- I bet this guy is so pleased with himself.

Also: I can't seem to type "end unit;" it's always "end unity." My inner anarchist yearns to break free.

Set list for 08.09:
David, Sam's brother, co-hosted; he's nothing shy of an expert on old-school punk.

Buena Vista Social Club -- Chan Chan (Ibrahim Ferrer, RIP)
Gorillaz -- Demon Dayz
13 and God -- If
Feist -- Let it Die

Aimee Mann -- Goodbye Caroline
Royal City -- My Brother is the Meatman

Siouxie and the Banshees -- Hong Kong Garden
The Lurkers -- Ain't Got a Clue
The Adverts -- New Boys

Joy Division -- Disorder
The Only Ones -- Lovers of Today
The Avengers -- We Are the One
The Stranglers -- No More Heroes

Violent Femmes -- Blister in the Sun (Live) (Giveaway)
Buzzcocks -- Boredom (Request)
The Heartbreakers -- I Wanna Be Loved
Bad Religion -- Billy

Caribou -- Pelican Narrows
Kings of Convenience -- The Weight of My Words
Saint Etienne -- Mountain Rain
TV on the Radio -- Satellite

The Pixies -- Where is My Mind (Request)
The Screamers -- A Better World
Bad Brains -- Pay to Cum

Sleater-Kinney -- What's Mine is Yours
Bikini Kill -- Reject All American
Free Kitten -- What's Fair

The Urinals -- Ack Ack Ack Ack
Talking Heads -- Don't Worry About the Government
The Television Personalites -- Part-Time Punks
Gang on Four -- What We All Face

The Constantines -- Seven AM
The Wrens -- Thirteen Grand
Rogue Wave -- Be Kind + Remind

The Rentals -- Friends of P.
Decemberists -- Everything I Try to Do, Nothing Seems to Turn Out Right (Request)
Lilliput -- Ain't You

X-ray Specs -- I Am a Cliche
The Clash -- Garageland
The Jam -- In the City

The Damned -- New Rose
The Zeroes -- Beat Your Heart Out
Dinosaur Jr. -- Pebbles + Weeds

As I Sit Typing

1. I took the job for the money.
2. The money is good.
3. The job is not hard.
4. So I would make easy money.
5. Easy money is good for spending in Europe.
6. Europe is where I'm going.
BUT
7. It's 12:07 and I'm almost out of work to do.
8. I probably won't make it to 5:00 without going nuts.
9. I want to make it to 5:00 because of the money.
10. Communism has always looked good to me.
11. Now it looks better.
12. I want to be a farmer.
13 (Question). Who will raise goats and sheep with me?

The phone just keeps on ringing and ringing blblblblb blblblblb and Wayne's voice mail picks it up always after 3.5 rings and it's not like I couldn't go get it, but he never told me to in fact he told me not to bother because it'll always be angry clients impatiently sighing about the "status" of their inspections wanting times and dates as if theirs is the only inspection that ever there was. Wayne is Canadian and was an Olympic alpine skier and he lets me have time off if I give him plenty of notice but his phone makes me murderous and it's a little funny that I even have a phone because it doesn't ring blblblblb blblblblb. For some reason I miss Prof. Peppis right now. I bet his phone rings a lot too. Maybe that's why he's so pissed off all the time. Maybe he wants to throw some phones out windows too because that wouldn't solve any problems but the waste would be gloriously destructive as would the subsequent firing in my case. They tried to have a meeting but the phone kept on ringing blblblblb blblblblb. That bringly noise.

This file is a soap opera.

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I'm telling you, the places my mind goes during work. I wish I could read and type at the same time. Then I'd be set.

Semester school kids will leave soon. Troubling, this. It means not only do I have to say goodbye ONCE AGAIN but also that I have almost a month of Anchorage time after the bulk of my buddies leave. Ridiculous. Also, schools in the 'rage are starting earlier this year, which means less time with the parents and brother. RIDICULOUS.

In positive news, Sam's brother David will be co-hosting the show with me tomorrow. I'm psyched. Lot of old school punk. Hip Hip Hooragent Orange!

Dad and I are going to start a porter when he gets back from his tennis trip. Those kids and their tennis. The amber turned out okay, but I think it needs to age a little more. If anyone in town wants to try some, come on over.

I need a haircut. Preferably not the same one I've been getting for a couple of years. Something with a modicum or three of sex appeal might be nice.