The sky is a rumpled blanket of grey, smothering what lies beneath it in shadow. Every now and then there is a slight break, and you can see the light shoot through, a distant sign that there is something on the other side worth hoping for, but the real goal is for the clouds to burn away and have the sun shine directly down on you in its full majesty, to feel the dark, humid shade melt and dissolve as that overpowering warmth and light cascades over you. That's what to aim for, because once you've felt that glory, then it doesn't matter if the clouds come back, because you know that that power is still back there, and any moment now it will shine forth again.

Tunes: "10 More Minutes", Kill Hannah (iTMS); "Here Comes My Girl", Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. (iTMS).

Just incredible. Go Sox, it's about time.

I won't say I want to be just like the AccordionGuy when I grow up, but if my life reaches a moderately similar level of weirdness (and I make it through with enough sanity to get by), I will be content.

Tunes: "Chorus And The Ring", R.E.M. (iTMS); "Lovers In A Dangerous Time", Bruce Cockburn (iTMS).

It's time for: Random Quotes Taken Out Of Context!!!

"It's kinda like Friends meets The Twilight Zone directed by like David Lynch or John Waters or someone."

"I am not an Ibuprofen junkie!"
--"How many have you had today?"
"...Shut up."

"Why the hell is there a spoon in my pocket?"

"It's squishy!"

"But this is a respectable establishment. I'm wearing my best pajamas!"

"...Or a red, like a blood red, but not fresh blood, dried blood."

"You are too weak to defeat me!"

"There's still a spoon in my pocket."

"There's only one thing I know for certain: this is excellent Tiramisu."

Tunes: "Robot Parade" (iTMS), "Damn Good Times" (iTMS), "Exquisite Dead Guy" (iTMS), "She's An Angel" (iTMS), They Might Be Giants.

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh!" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw.
"I just wanted to be sure of you."
A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

"Lovers leave and friends will let you down/
You're the only sure thing that I've found/
No matter what I do I'll never lose/
My old friend the blues"
-The Proclaimers, My Old Friend The Blues

As my parents will testify, I have always needed signs of reassurance. A hug here, a random "I love you" there, always that affirmation of presence. It's not that I necessarily doubt other's love, but that it is extremely comforting to emphasize it. That's one of the reasons these quotes really strike chords within me. In one, the message is sent that all you have to do is call and reach out your hand, and it will be taken and held. The other says that the hand will slip, and you will be left to fend for yourself, alone. I have certainly had experiences that have gone both ways, sometimes grasping the hand firmly, and sometimes losing my grip. It's always painful when the connection is lost, and that can lead one to believe it's better not to try at all, to resign onesself to isolation so as not to fall down further. But the joy-- and that's what it is, joy in its deepest, original pure sense-- of someone grabbing ahold and helping you up is so powerful, so touching, that it simply cannot be neglected for monotony. From a Christian outlook, we are actively called to reach out and take hold of another's hands, and are told ahead of time of the benefits, of the connection between "love thy neighbor as thyself" and "God is love, and where true love is, God himself is there." How, then, can I settle for anything less, without denying not only God, but all the other people reaching out to me? It's one thing to shut myself off and stagnate on my own, but in doing so, I would cut off and hurt my friends and family who are relying on me to pull them up? I can't, and so I keep marching, "further up and further in" as the story goes, continually reaching out for that sometimes elusive brush of skin that says, "Here I am."

Tunes: "Leave", R.E.M. (iTMS); "Solsbury Hill", Peter Gabriel (iTMS); "Sky", Sonique (iTMS).

10-3 WHAT!!!

I am happy
Oh so happy

*Does happy dance*

World Series here we come!

I had to get out of town, escape for a while. I called up some friends and made arrangements to crash with them, then hopped a train. After finding an acceptable open seat (the one next to the infant/parent combo was out, as was the one next to the little old lady who looked as though she'd talk my ear off), I settled in and stared out the window. It's like watching a movie of sorts, with the window as a screen and the passing highways and slums as actors, silently demonstrating their angst and their joy, their apathy and their excitement. Annie Lennox sings that "love don't show up in the pavement cracks", but that's just what's happening here, like careworn creases in a kindly grandmother's smile. In contrast, the tall, foreboding factories stand steady and fearsome, with their grim lights, barbed wire, and plumed smokestacks, give an air of superior brusqueness. It only enhanced my desire to remove myself. I wanted trees, and hills, and nature, not this urban wasteland I call home.

Tunes: "Long Line Of Cars", Cake (iTMS); "Fibber Island", They Might Be Giants (iTMS); "Walking in Memphis", Marc Cohn.

Disgustingly, obscenely, horrifyingly offensive. And just about as hilarious. The puppetry is sheer genius, and, as is typical with Trey and Matt's work, the homemade soundtrack shines through. My primary complaint coming out of the movie was that I felt that they had gone too far with the gay jokes. My friend, who I saw the film with, countered by pointing out that they had ripped on pretty much every other possible stereotype and then some, and that in that context, gay jokes were fair game. I think that what I was unable to articulate before, however, is that the reason that the gay jokes seemed the most barbed and cruel was the casual manner in which they were passed off. Many times it didn't feel like they were set up as jokes at all, but just natural, casual conversation, and that's what stings. Aside from that, though, if you're not easily offended, and want to go see puppets vomiting, blowing things up, and having wild and crazy sex, then march on down to your local theater like a good citizen.

Tunes: Team America soundtrack.

300th post! w00t!!! I will now go celebrate with a pound of cookie dough ^_^

Tunes: "Imitation Of Life", R.E.M. (iTMS); "Light Up My Room", Barenaked Ladies (iTMS); "Trusty Chords", Hot Water Music (iTMS).

...After his whirlwind tour of New England, Si Adam is back at Kafien! Tonight at 8:30.

It's a grey, rainy, completely blah day. So, making an entry in the book of Disgustingly Inappropriate Things, I turn up the stereo and blast out "Walking On Sunshine", courtesy of Katrina and the Waves.

Yeeaow! Um Yeah!
I used to think maybe you love me, now baby I'm sure
And I just can't wait till the day when you knock on my door
Now everytime I go for the mailbox gotta hold myself down
Cause I just can't wait till you write me you're comin' around

Now I'm walking on sunshine
I'm walking on sunshine
I'm walking on sunshine
And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good

I used to think maybe you love me now I know that it's true
And I don't wanna spend my whole life just a waitin' for you
Now don't want you back for the weekend, not back for a day
I said baby I just want you back and I want you to stay

I'm walkin' on sunshine
I'm walkin' on sunshine
I'm walkin' on sunshine
And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good

-(short instrumental)-

Walkin' on sunshine
Walkin' on sunshine

I feel alive, I feel a love,
I feel a love that's really real
I feel alive, I feel a love,
I feel a love that's really real
I'm on sunshine baby
I'm on sunshine baby
I'm walkin' on sunshine
I'm walkin' on sunshine
I'm walkin' on sunshine

And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good
And don't it feel good don't it, don't it, don't it, don't it, don't it and
don't it feel good
Tell me, tell me, tell me again and don't it feel good
And don't it feel good, don't it feel good, don't it feel good
Now don't it feel good
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah yeah, yeah, oh yeah

...But it took me a long !@#$ing time to get here. It took a good 42 hours of transit in a number of forms (pretty much everything except planes and bicycles) to get me from Marlboro back home to Evanston. Now before I go any further about the trip, I'd like to talk a bit more about Marlboro. I still stand by what I wrote before, but reading back, it sounds fairly negative. What happened after that post is much, much more positive. Immediately after that last post, I sat in on a fabulous class (Intro to Hinduism and Buddhism), which started getting me acquainted with some of the students, and afterwards I hooked up with my host for the evening, and was swiftly introduced around: "Hey (insert name here), this is the Prospie." Soon I was surrounded by fun people having fun. There was only one tense spot in the evening when I was told they would have to "test my manhood." Somewhat on edge, I followed them down to the basement, where I discovered the instrument of testing: a Nintendo Gamecube, with Mario Kart lying on top of it.

Then i headed home, by a shuttle to a bus to a train to another train then on foot for twenty mintes back to my house for a quick shower before another twenty-minute walk to my philosophy class followed by my play rehearsal then another twenty-minute walk home to finally sit back and be enthusiastically greeted by my dog (read: she peed at my feet), and not-quite-so enthusiastically greeted by my Dad (he was quite happy to see me, but did not pee at my feet).

So glad to be home.

Tunes: "Raining All the Time," Kill Hannah (iTMS); "1985," Bowling For Soup (iTMS).

Your correspondent now hails from Marlboro, VT, on the last leg of his whirlwind tour of New England and surrounds. Academicall, the college seems in good standing, but I'll wait until my 3:30 class (Intro to Hinduism and Buddhism) to give the final word there. The people are firendly, at least those I've talked to. Because the school is so small, everybody knows everybody else on a first-name basis, and my being a stranger in such a secluded place seems to invite people to overlook me either out of wariness ("What's he doing here?") or awkwardness ("I don't remember his name, so I'll just keep walking.") The campus is stunning, but at a cost: the nearest metropolitan area is a good two hours away, and what passes for the nearest town's (which itself is a good half-hour away) bus stop is a trailer. Still, it makes for good prose:

The sun's painfully bright aura is the only refuge against Autumn's chill and the harsh mountain wind. But it seems to be enough, as young women and men congregate in the fields, eating and laughing, chatting and lying about on the grass. The setting is aesthetically ideal: rolling mountains, covered in warm greens, vibrant yellows, and crisp reds as the leaves slowly turn. The grass still fights valiantly against the change of season, but is starting to fade in the face of the inescapable.

Anyhow, tomorrow I start the long journey home. Until then!

Tunes: "Hope," R.E.M.; "Everything To Me," Rock Kills Kid; "What I Want," Autopilot Off.

I remember sitting with my brother on a balcony over a lake, sketching out our hopes and dreams underneath the morning sun, and submitting to the overwhelming waves of tranquility that swept us under.

I remember sitting with my sister in her third-floor suite, watching the rain falling in a continuous torrent as we ate, laughed, and shared.

I remember feeling like I'm home, like I'm where I ought to be.

Tunes (Yes, I'm gonna try and get these going again):"Feels Like Home," Bonnie Raitt; "Stop Crying Your Heart Out," Oasis; and "Stacy's Mom," Fountains of Wayne.