Hard Times

Terrible ticking noises started to come from my laptop late last night. A conversation with a kind Indian man at tech support confirmed that the hard drive is shot.

I back up data semi-regularly, but I did lose a few things. I lost some blog ideas and I lost some more personal documents (letters written but not sent, child pornography, etc.).

Post should remain semi-regular even without my own functioning cpu. Advice is accepted, particularly if I should buy a new laptop now, wait for this new Windows program to come out, what not to buy, and so on.

Read What I Read

The American national mythology revolves around the idea that the promise of America is best seen in the West - wide open spaces, don't fence me in, home, home on the range, etc. Metaphorically, that might be true. But economically, the real place to witness the promise of America is the Midwest, where, for most of this country's history, the products of the range were manipulated for fun and profit. When the cowboys serenaded their stray calves to "Git Along, Little Dogies," they left out the part where the little dogie is railroaded to Chicago to be slaughtered by some underpaid, overworked immigrant, en route to its manifest destiny as a New Yorker's supper.

--Sarah Vowell, Take the Cannoli

No Ann Ardor

Really, this is the same as Lawrence. The school is bigger, and there are a disturbing number of ice cream/custard shops here given the population, but it's basically the same as any Collegetown, USA. Restaurants and shops, shops and restaurants. A river.

It's not trashy, but it smells like it. For some reason - a bad one, I think - rubbish bins and dumpsters are located near the sidewalks.

A friend once said that she didn't really mind the smell of skunks, and I think I understood her, even agreed with her. The same cannot be said of garbage. Garbage is foul, awful, horrible - well deserving of its name. It's locked in a battle with rotting flesh and feces for a #1 ranking.

Ann Arbor: get it together, and put that stuff in the alley.

* * *

I'll be home tomorrow, and while my class hasn't taught me much...fuck. I should mention something about the class.

Shawn and Phil were in a class together in college - an English class, I think. All of the students were saying their names, their majors - you know how it is. Phil encouraged Shawn to spice up his introduction, and when it was Shawn's turn, he unleashed this nugget:

"I'm Shawn, I'm a sophomore, and I'm an architecture major. Oh yeah, and I'm a Pisces, for all you ladies out there."

I thought of Shawn's line this Monday when my fellow students were introducing themselves. It's a small room with only a dozen students. I'm nearly the last to go, and I mimic Shawn's line, substituting my job info and my own Zodiac sign, axing "for all you ladies out there".

I didn't see anyone smile.

I could have used a fun night out this week, and I considered making an announcement in class, inviting everyone to meet at the brewery for some good times. In the end, I decided the odds of enjoying myself around that group were too low to risk the effort. So, last night, I sampled 4 ounces each of 9 beers, ate two soft chicken tacos, and finished my book. There was a loud guy at the bar, talking at the unlucky man to his left about his career and so on. I feel like this trip has taught me something about That Guy. That Guy is in our bars, our coffee shops, our museums, our parks. He was at Borders today, asleep in a chair, snoring. He's out of place and he's strange, but it's important to know why he's there. He's got nowhere to be, and nowhere to go.

Ann Arbor Arbor

Went to the Nichols Arboretum today. As in, from 1:30 until 5:00. The pamphlet says it "celebrates the dramatic topography", and I guess I'd have to agree.

I actually walked through the arboretum to UMich's north campus to see something called "The Wave Field". It was listed as an attraction on the Visitor's Bureau website, so I googled it:

A pure earth sculpture, made entirely of soil covered with grass, 'The Wave Field' collapses the boundaries between nature and art, earth and water, object and pedestal. The sculpture, which took over two years to complete, is approximately 90 feet by 90 feet square. The waves, which rise from the natural ground plane to five or six feet high, make a subtle transition into the piece, blurring the distinction between the sculpture and the space in which it exists.

I guess I'd agree with that, too. But I also might say that it's a little disappointing. I mean, two years for this?


Anyway, then I walked back through a different path in the arboretum, and came up to the dorm. I'm going to go get the sampler at one of the downtown breweries, and probably finish High Fidelity.

Bobby, thanks again for use of this camera. It makes me feel like I have a purpose, if that makes any sense.

$40 a Day: Ann Arbor

The day starts at 8:00 a.m., and you're feeling a bit peckish. Why not treat yourself to Hostess Frosted Donettes? You already ate a handful yesterday morning, but according to the box, they're fresh until August 1st. At $2.79 for the 14 oz. box, you've got a big breakfast with a tiny price.

Cost = $2.79 divided by the 4 breakfasts you can get out of one box = $.70

Break time! The university has generously provided coffee and tea during the interval. Have a cup of English teatime, free!

Class is over, and it's time for lunch! The weather's looking a little sketchy, so why not look at shit on the internet until the showers pass?

Now that the skies have cleared off a bit, grab your backpack and head west! The art museum doesn't serve any food, but you're just looking to kill time. Check out the modern art exhibit - ooh, don't those Warhol soup cans tempt your taste buds? It's 2:30, and it's time to find a great meal!

After ambling around downtown Ann Arbor for a half hour, you decide on Gratzi, because it's open and Italian sounds nice. You're the only one in the restaurant, so why not sit at the bar? Enjoy Gratzi's huge, classical painting-style mural while they prepare a signature dish, Pollo al Marsala. It's on the happy hour menu, so it's even cheaper than you'd think! So why not take that money you saved and buy a glass of shiraz? Enjoy its redness as you taste the bread and olive oil. Feeling frisky? Eat a few of the bar's pistachio nuts! They're on the house!

Cost = $10 entree + $6 wine + tip = $19.00
Total so far = $19.70

You're kind of sleepy from the wine, plus you've uncovered every hidden treasure downtown Ann Arbor has to offer - why not trudge back to your dorm room and look at shit on the internet all evening? Sure, you're kind of hungry again around 10:00 p.m., but you'll be asleep in a few hours, and you don't get hungry when you're asleep!

Total for the day = $19.70

See you in the morning for lil' chocolate donuts!

Blessed Saint Nick

Why is failure the first thing I think of when I find myself in this sort of situation? Why can't I just enjoy myself? But if you have to ask the question, then you know you're lost: self-consciousness is a man's worst enemy. Already I'm wondering whether she's aware of my erection as I am, and if she is, what she feels about it; but I can't even maintain that worry, let alone anything else, because so many other worries are crowding it out, and the next stage looks intimidatingly difficult, unfathomably terrifying, absolutely impossible.

Look at the things that can go wrong for men. There's the nothing-happening-at-all problem, the too-much-happening-too-soon problem, the dismal-droop-after-a-promising-beginning problem; there's the size-doesn't-matter-except-in-my-case problem... and what do women have to worry about? A handful of cellulite? Join the club. A spot of I-wonder-how-I-rank? Ditto.

--Nick Hornby, High Fidelity

First, I saw High Fidelity the movie. My boss had read it and recommended the film. I loved it - it's still one of my all time, top five movies, but I never read the book until now. I read About a Boy - it was the first book I ever read in under 24 hours - after borrowing it from my boss. From there, I read Speaking with the Angel, which he edited and contributed a short story to. Then, waiting for a week to pass and grad school to start, I read the brand new How to be Good. I've read The Polysyllabic Spree, and after High Fidelity, I'll be down to Fever Pitch and his latest, A Long Way Down.

But part of me is comforted in knowing there's books of his yet to be read, and I hesitate to finish them off and be left with nothing. Even as I read this novel, I try to savor it in small bites, rationing it as best I can.

Photobooth

Tornado Slide's photoblogging this motherfucker at my Flickr account!

They're mostly in order, but it's not perfect. I'm so fucking sorry.