Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator

Un film de Jean-Luc Godard

- I finished putting together my desk this weekend, adding a kluged-together little riser that I made out of spare parts from non-desk-related IKEA furniture. This, combined with clearing out all the empty cardboard boxes and baking something1 for the first time since moving in, constituted the final steps towards actually moving in here rather than simply occupying the space, and I guess it's about time that I admit to myself that yes, I actually live in San Antonio, at least for a while. Still, as long as there is an Amarillo and an Indianapolis, I can say that it could be worse. At any rate, now that my desktop monitor rests on this little riser, I'm adjusting to having a few inches more desk space, and while I can't actually claim that the change is having a positive effect on my posture (I don't have to look down anymore, but I still slouch like a motherfucker2), it's fun to pretend that my eMac is the drummer in a '70s prog-rock band.

- Hey, whose idea was it for me to spend vast swaths of my mostly-free weekend sleeping? I mean, which one of you suggested that I drink gallons of vodka lemonade, sleep for ten hours straight, wake up and watch about an hour of HDTV3, and then take a five-hour nap? Because whichever one of you it was, you're a genius and I intend to consult you on all my future plans.

- Here, as was pointed out by tomb_lock, is Chapter the First of me finding something nice to say about SATX (Chapter the Second should be along in about a year): for Mother's Day, I took my mom to brunch at this Mexican joint called "Picante Grill", a family-owned place that specializes in central-country fare rather than the typical snooze-inducing Tex-Mex. It turned out to be a good decision: the food was absolutely amazing, and included one of the best mole dishes I've ever had. There was also a pork in spicy pumpkin sauce that was killer, and the second-best ceviche I've ever had in my life4 (and the best I've ever had in the US). Unfortunately, I talked to the owner and his wife (who's the head chef), and they said they only make the ceviche for special occasions, but the rest of the food was good enough that I'm sure, especially given that it's only a few blocks away, this place will head to the top of my regular rotation.

- Unfortunately, right after that, we headed for Half-Price Books, and to kill some time, I decided to flip through their used records. Now, Half-Price is actually a decent used bookstore, for a chain joint, but their music selection tends to reflect the tastes of the successful upper-middle-class Texans who populate my neighborhood: shitloads of Rod Stewart, Genesis, Gloria Estefan, Boston (for the handful of rowdies), and more Jimmy Buffett than I ever dared to imagine existed. There was exactly one (1) rap album in the whole store, and it didn't even have the token selection of "my son, who was into that crazy punk music, died, and I'm desperate to unload his record collection" discs you usually find. So, to wash the taste of that out of my mouth, I decided to take a look at the jazz section. You may have heard of jazz, the improvisational musical artform created by African-Americans: but if you had never done so, and your first exposure to it was in the jazz section of the Half-Price Books store on Broadway in San Antonio, TX, you might become convinced that jazz was a type of music which was created, written and performed by 90% white people. Seriously, I bought a vinyl copy of Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool, and that purchase basically halved the representation of blacks in their jazz section.

- This weekend's big-ticket purchases: an airplane ticket for a trip back to Chicago the week of my birthday (August 3-8)5, and a pair of tickets to see the San Antonio Missons6, the local minor league ballclub. I'm going on "Dollar Night" (dollar dogs, dollar beers, and $200 DWI citations on the way home) to see the Missions (an affiliate of the San Diego Padreszzzzzzzzzz) play the Midland Rockhounds (an affiliate of the Oaktown Athletics). It's also, according to the Missions website, the night of an "unstructured hat giveaway". I have no idea what this could possibly mean. Do they mean the hat is unstructured, and they just hand you a sew-on Missions patch, some thread, some cloth, and a piece of cardboard? Or do they mean the giveaway is unstructured, and that there are just hundreds of boxes of free hats strewn willy-nilly all over the stadium and it's a mad dash to glom as many as you can? Personally, I've decided that what they mean is a "post-structuralist hat giveaway", in which the brim of the cap contains the claim that all verbal signification is located at the nexus of uncountable semantic inputs and that experential data can no longer be said to consist of isolated elements plucked from measurable space.

- Hey, it looks like a certain Major Metropolitan Newspaper Conglomerate is finally going to pay me the $800 they owe me! And all it took was two solid years of constant nagging, cajolery, detective work, base pleading, legal threats, and endless frustrating phone calls and e-mail trails! Pleasure doing business with you, MMNC!

- Have you ever been driving around7, and your directions are really bad (like, say, you got them from the notoriously jittery MapQuest, which you keep using no matter how many times it has steered you wrong, because you're an idiot), and you're not quite sure where you are and in an attempt to right yourself, you hop back on the nearest freeway but you go the wrong way, and you're not aware of it right away, but eventually you've been driving at 70mph for 15 minutes and none of the street names look familiar and you begin to suspect you're not even in the right county anymore? Have you ever done that, and gotten so hopelessly lost that you just go "fuck it, I'm just gonna drive around aimlessly at 1AM for two hours and see what I can see, because what else am I gonna do with my precious time on this Earth"? Yeah? Me too. It's kinda fun.

1: Baked ziti with parmesan cream sauce.
2: And how does a motherfucker slouch? "I'm slumped down in my chair with my back at an odd angle! Plus I want to fuck your mother!"
3: Sports programs look spectacular in HDTV. News shows look good, but who cares? Pornography is actually much more frightening in HDTV, there being a limit to the degree of realism one desires when watching other people fuck.
4: Cue "the best ceviche I've ever had" story, which I've told maybe a milliard times.
5: Actually quite cheap given that I'm flying on off days; it was under $200, the first time I've hit that target for air fare in years.
6: Also not actually that big a ticket, because it's minor league baseball, and no one in their right mind is going to ask you for more than $6 to see a AA team.
7: Like, for example, you're looking for a Target store and the Botanical Gardens, which might seem like an odd combination, especially for one o'clock in the morning, but remember: for the purposes of this illustration, you are me and no activity is too bizarre for your lonesome drunken lifestyle.

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