12-Step Jesus

Even though I only have two class meetings left, I've decided to get a foam core 'raised hand' to tape to my desk in sociology (my shoulder is wearing out) Lately, Anna and I have taken the "maybe we can think on their level if we're drunk" approach...alas, to no avail. Ross managed to attain a few more enemies today...nothing new, I'm actually surprised there are any left to make. I fear we may be lynched following the final. Know that I love you all, and I wish I had possessions worthy of you for bequeathment.

I received an e-mail from Xian today containing but two words: "you weirdo"

I think Chad put it best in saying, "ha. pot...kettle..."

Yeah, I'm a weirdo. A sarcastic, self-obsessed, depressive, alcoholic weirdo with an inexplicable, if erstwhile, sunny streak. Guess I was made in God's image after all. Praise Jesus and George W. Bush!

Listening to: Doves- Break Me Gently

Chaussettes et Derrieres

I just blew the most awesome thing I've ever made. I know it's the most awesome thing I've ever made because two of my assistants watched me do it and said "that was totally the coolest thing you've ever made." This means I have something to turn in for Final Crit...and it's awesome...and it was FIVE gathers. FIVE! I guess I got something out of Nadege's visit after all.

Inspiration in the form of a five-foot tall french woman. Who knew?Can't wait to see what she makes tomorrow...

My paper is done...final crit (barrriing potential annealing issues and breakage) taken care of....20th Century Final tomorrow...all I can say is:
WOOHOO!!!

And like it's my birthday or something....Google makes e-mail! cara.cox@gmail.com

But WHY is the RUM gone?

A-1's (my house, not the sauce) new hero: Adam
Here's a big, fat public thank you to Mr. Cofer for spending his day off dragging my clogged, wheezing machine into some semblance of updatedness, and for the gift of Jasmin's very first computer ever. Truly, this man should be sainted. I could extol his virtues for pages, but that would border on creepy.

I was avoiding XP like the plague, you know. I'd run into it on other's machines, and the experience was always painful. I was so comfortable, so safe, in my cozy little Win98 existence. We'd been through some times, me and Windows 98. It took a lot of convincing to make the switch:
Me: But...but...XP sucks...
Adam: Eh...
Me: Okay, do it.

So far, all stupid Microsuck bloating aside (most of which has been unceremoniously deleted) I'm excited. Adam, once again for those of you who weren't paying attention, fucking rules.
And so does his car. I know, I rode in it. It has bells and whistles I didn't even know existed. And so pretty.
Some guys have all the luck. And some guys eschew the arts in favor of paying jobs. A role model for us all. Excuse me while I change my major to astrophysics.

In other news, we lost the house, but gained another. One less bedroom, no (working) dishwasher, next door to the landlord, but cheaper, and with better carpet and closets. We looked at it today, and I have to say, we have no other option this close to the end of the semester. It's all good.

Listening to: Rick Derringer- Rock and Roll Hootchie Coo

Still not ever going there

WTF?

Did anyone else know that the Krystal on the strip in Knoxville is a Wi-Fi hotspot....and WTF??

I get to be Ethel

I'm sad for the human race again today. Not that this is anything new. Watching The Children's Hour probably didn't help much. Overstated melodrama, yes, but with real themes at work. And, yes, I cried a little when Shirley McLaine finally admitted to Audrey Hepburn she was in love with her. And even more when she killed herself because it was better than being gay. I suppose you could call the current gay marriage debate progress, considering the mere accusation of homosexual tendencies used to be cause for ruin and suicide. Somehow I just don't feel it's enough.
Still reading Ishmael. If that doesn't make you feel guilty for everything, I don't know what will.

So Jaz and Damien's shows come down this weekend, and K.Y. and Jenny go up next week. Two more shows, two more parties. I swear we do other things here. Just not in the spring, apparently. Jenny has ordered costumes be worn for her opening (perhaps to make the girls in bikinis feel less awkward?) Can one emulate the white trash style without Daisy Dukes? And if so, how?

We have one vote for expatriation. Do I hear a second?

Listening to: DNTEL- This is the Dream of Evan and Chan

Wiener Sezession

What do we have here? A convenient place to hide from paper writing? Affirmative sir, no Art Nouveau in sight. Well, let me just settle in, then.


Fuck Bonaroo.
I'm beginning to think KEXP is a just a delusion manufactured by my strained psyche, a private fantasia where psychic DJ's play requests from my soul and no one tries to scare me into buying anything. I have yet to experience an instance of radio satisfaction comparable to it. My time with NPR is waaaaay down since discovering this gem. Sweet, musical, ignorance. It's bliss, you know. Ignorance. Where would U.S. foreign policy be without it? There would be a tremendous burden on arrogance to carry the whole thing off.

Bumper sticker politics and a plug for a radio station...surely I can do better than that...

I called Nero to wish him a happy holiday yesterday. He was at the beach, preparing brownies. Are hate and envy the same thing? Because sometimes I think they are. Today, everyone had a story of "that friend" they called to wish good tidings around twenty past four. Lisa's dad called her. How refreshing, to be so open with one's progenitors.

Anna doesn't want to come back. Can't blame that. Stay on and I'll join you in two years. I'll bring everyone else with me. We'll start a multi-national corporation that somehow saves the world out of a one-room flat in B.A. They'll build monuments to us. Either that or we'll all go on a robbin' spree across the American West, retire out to a palacial ranch in Cholila, and die at the hands of the Bolivian police at San Vicente. I can go either way, anyone else have any input?

I think my time might be better spent scavenging the bounty that is leftover food from Jasmin's party. Our living room looks like we hijacked a catering truck. I think I added three inches of bagel chips and hummus to my overall body mass yesterday alone. This is not the rice-and-beans existence I was leading last week.

"When you don't have any money, the problem is food. When you have money, it's sex. When you have both it's health." -J.P. Donleavy

Listening to: Arvo Pärt- Für Alina

Na acht uur, olifanten zijn niet toegestaan in de bar.

Congrats to Jasmin and Damien on two of the most exciting openings I've seen here as of late. It was almost too much to process both at the same time. Each had its own unique brand of excitement, though. Concerning Jasmin's, we've all been to her studio, seen the figures, in short everyone knew roughly what to expect, but seeing them all in their own little arrangements, each group engaged in silent conversation in the quiet gallery space, was powerful. Damien, on the other hand, operates under the cover of secrecy. He was technically a glass major, so imagine our surprise last semester when he sold all his tools and color and stopped blowing at the beginning of his senior thesis. This piqued some interest, to say the least. In the time leading up to the last week or so, few on campus knew what he was up to. Then the rumor starts spreading last week that his committee may not let the exhibit happen due to extremely questionable content (later the rumor is amended to include something about asshole licking) so there was some pretty heavy anticipation happening. To make matters even more curious, he actually drywalled in the large door opening to the gallery space and put in a real door. With a lock. It turns out his show was about extreme intolerance, and focused almost entirely on this Kansas City minister Fred Phelps (of God Hates Fags fame). He had actually travelled to Kansas city to interview the guy, and videotape his sermons. It was incredible, but the sobering part came when he started talking about how he was on the forefront of the desegregation movement in Kansas. The show itself was very clean, and unlike anything the craft center has seen before. And the asshole licking rumor? He said he put that scene in to make everything else seem less bad, and in the end he was surprised at what they let him get away with once he agreed to take it out. Genius.
The after party was great fun. Jasmin AND Kyle's parents were there for the first few hours, sitting in the living room next to the kegs. This felt a little weird to the rest of us. Jasmin had friends from her old school in Cleveland (Ohio) and other friends from Nashville and surrounding parts, plus craft center people, so at first there was some clique action, but beer (and liquor) is the great equalizer, and soon we were all getting along just fine. Monique's friend (boyfriend?) it turns out just directed a video for Old Crow Medicine Show, a big favorite around here, so he found instant popularity. Even though there was a glut of whiskey and scotch, there weren't any huge wrestling matches, more like little scraps (Eric got punched a lot because he was in tit-grabbing mode), but booty shaking happened at random intervals. Anderson and Ross began speaking in tongues, until everything they said started rhyming with "bone." I guess you had to be there.
Today was kiddie pool revisited, though I spent most of the day on a blanket with my laptop and a pile of library books, watching the others have their fun. Now I'm onto more of the same. Only about three weeks left in this godforsaken semester. Place your bets now folks.
Listening to: Calibre- P.U.R.
Translation of title: Elephants are not permitted in the bar after eight o'clock.

What can Brown do for you?

So I walk out of my house at 2 this morning, ostensibly looking for Ross. There is a bit of a hubub about B2, upon further investigation I find that Walt Brown, Anderson, and Ross are drumming up support for a fire down at short point. I was thinking more along beddy-bye lines, but I'm no party pooper, especially when it involves a cooler full of beer and a fire. Being reasonably intoxicated already, they've decided to drive Walt's Explorer down the trail. The fire itself was nice, we shot a great deal of shit, just four drunks talking about professors, visiting artists, bodily functions. The real fun didn't begin until we started back home. The boys, ahem, extinguished the fire with their hoses, and we turned toward the car. Here I should probably explain Walt can't even stand without support, but he still wants to drive back home. To make things more interesting Anderson climbs on top of the car. We make it back to housing, but Walt isn't done yet. He starts driving all over campus, running Anderson backwards and forwards into tree limbs at breakneck speed. Then he wants to go to the overlook, but once we get there, he decides we should be at the highway. We lounge around at the sign at the bottom of the hill, but seeking more excitement, we head out onto the bridge. It was eerily quiet, not a car around. We were running around in the middle of the highway, crazy as loons. The stars were out in force, brightly reflecting off the lake so, up or down, it was a sky full of stars. Frickin' amazing. We threw quarters in the lake for good luck (took them 15 seconds to hit the water) Then we outran a semi-truck all the way back to the car. Starting back up the hill, Walt's car began to sputter. Out of gas. We walked up the entire driveway, drunk, at 5 a.m. I've never fallen asleep so fast. To know Walt Brown is to really understand how funny all this is. He's definitely a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde situation, with beer as the chosen catalyst. So mild mannered, yet so entirely insane.
Here, play with this:

Rumbly Mumbly

Hallelujah, I am not a moron. At lunch today someone was discussing taking the Loop trail later today. I mentioned we'd had some, ah, difficulties a few weeks ago in that the trail sorta went missing about halfway through. We consulted the map and discovered two interesting bits of information 1)Part of the trail is currently underwater 2) The trail runs in the opposite direction from where Ross was leading us. "Trust me, I've taken this trail before."
Again, this week was stupid busy. Got an A on my optics project (not bad for a last minute cop-out). I went to a bar with Susan and Josie on Easter around Midnight (technically no longer Easter, I suppose) and we ended up staying out til five a.m. (trying to emulate the Argentine lifestyle I suppose, but no siesta). Needless to say, crit was even more painful than usual Monday afternoon. It snowed like crazy all day Tuesday, an event I was NOT dressed for. Two slide lectures this week, Juan Granados, a clay artist, and Bruce Erikson, a painter. Nice guys, interesting work. Both very concerned with expressing their working-class backgrounds through their art. Yesterday Jasmin convinced me to watch the 5th game between the Redwings and the Predators. We got annihilated. I hope the Preds win on Saturday, because Jasmin may not be very excited at her opening otherwise.
We're having our school picture taken today, this may be the first one since Curt was a student here. That's a long time.
In history of craft yesterday she finally got to modern glass. We get points for correcting her when she makes a mistake, and I should have gotten several, but I got robbed. I'm also a little peeved that we sat through four days of modern clay, and she was done with glass in half a class period. Shameful.
Finally saw (the last 1.5 hours of) Kill Bill vol1. I have to say I was not as impressed as I expected. It was interesting enough, but I don't think the snow scene was worth all the hype. Maybe more impressive on the big screen. The spurting blood was ridiculous. Loved the animated bit, though. As usual, cartoons prevail. Tarantino is alright, but I'll take Kurosawa anyday.
Oops, late for work.
Listening to: The Dismemberment Plan- Time Bomb

The Appalachian Center for Craft Brews

This is intolerable. How am I supposed to get any work done when people keep buying kegs of really good beer????? Jasmin's senior show opening is this Saturday (come one, come all), and the crazy bitch went out and not only rented a lakehouse, but also got a keg of Sierra Nevada (not to be outdone by Charly et al) AND a keg of PBR "just in case." Ludicrous!!! My liver won't stand for it. I also hear Kyle's mom (the unincarcerated Martha Stewart) might be doing the food for the opening itself. Hot damn! I wonder if I have any friends who would be interested in such an event...

Viejo Indecente

Another religious holiday, another mockery made of it by my friends and colleagues. Two years ago there was the Easter Beer Hunt, a moderately organized, entirely drunken festivity. Last year was the OK Ball (crouquet, but featuring more booze) tournament, which Ross won because he was the least drunk in the Championship flight. Chris was the cigar-smokin', crown-of-thorns-wearing, AA Easter Bunny for that one. This year, the majority of the crowd chose to forgo all structure and start drinking gin at 10 a.m. Then there was Ham Quest 2000. These people are just silly.

I swear I posted yesterday. Not entirely sure where it went. Might be hanging out with my mind somewhere. Vegas maybe.

I think we found a house. It's definitely a house, walls, floor, roof, whole caboodle. That's about all I have to report. Lovely country-style wallpaper boarders around each room. Really charming.
{{gag gag gag}}. They offer dial-up and ludicrously (over) priced DSL in Smithville. I can't wait! I just keep telling myself dishwasher, dishwasher...

Let's talk about how much I want to go to Argentina this summer. Mucho. Now let's talk about how much I can't. If I am to afford to eat next year, my ass is working every week and saving $ the majority of the summer. Paris Hilton can trade situations with me anytime, and when that goes through I'll be set. Until then: financial outlook cloudy.

Okay, time to work, really. I mean it. I'm out the door. No one can stop me....
{{Sigh}}

Listening to: The Masters

Two Drawings by Children

Here's a shocker for ya: Ross, the workaholic, punked out on the Murfreesboro evening. No opening, no Thai food, no raucous party afterward. This makes procrastinating my optics project much more difficult. Having over two decades of practice under my belt, however, serves me well.

I get to drive to tech 5 days a week next semester! 8 a.m.! For math!! And Science!!!! If we take the house we looked at today, my commute will be over an hour!!! Kill me now!!!!! Really!

Received my first personal electronic communication from Rachael since she moved to New York requesting we "get caught up or some shit." I'm still pondering my response. I think my preference leans toward "some shit" as a recent "get caught up" experience with another friend who moved to New York ended, erm, oddly. Lest you, humble reader, fall victim to the same fate as aforementioned friend, I offer this advice: If your girlfriend, after surreptitiously reading your e-mail, threatens to stop talking to you because you e-mailed someone you dated for like 3 months over two years ago and 643 miles away, GET OUT! It can only end badly. I foresee murder-suicide.

I heart NY as much as the next bitch, but I harbor suspicions it takes a certain type of crazy to live there full-time.

If you haven't heard the new Modest Mouse album...you should visit any location on the ACC campus.


Listening to: The Stranglers- No More Heroes

Faster than you can say General Tso's Chicken

My car works!!! $2.57 on parts and a Rogue of Kyle's choice for labor, I have had more painful car repair experiences. Especially those transmission-related.

Unfortunately it still looks like I won't make it eastward for Easter. I forgot I was charging on Saturday night, plus I have a critique on Monday for a project I will be coldworking all weekend. I will, however, make it to the opening in the 'boro Saturday and should be able to partake Thai food afterward. Oh, yellow curry, how do I adequately praise thee?

I am at a shocking loss for words (even though listening to NPR is itching my complaint cortex) so I'm going to take my bike to Short Point. See you suckers later.

Listening to: All Things Considered
Smelling: Something delicious on another's grill :(

ode to the Margarita

After a day like yesterday (apologies for the dramatics, clinical depression sure is a bitch sometimes...) anything I say is bound to appear overly cheerful. I got a new CD burner in the mail (Jen rocks my fucking socks!)!!! Still working out the kinks, but I finally succeeded in getting the bay to actually open when I hit the eject button. Also, Jessie brought me a new tape full of cable-y goodness (I can live without the bulk of cable, but I go to great lengths for Adult Swim and Chappelle's Show); maybe one day I'll actually have time to watch some of it! I bought Lisa's turndown (an odd concept since I actually receive money in exchange for performing a service, but whatever) meaning I have the pleasure of dragging my ass back to the hot shop in 4 hours, seemingly rendering the act of going to bed pointless. Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin my chances for sleeping through art history tomorrow...now that's tragedy. What to do with four hours? Continue working (rather, begin working) on my Kandinsky paper? Re-organize my glass notes? Clean my room? Demon alcohol, illicit drugs, and bootleg cable?
Some of life's big questions have easy answers....

This is the worst part

"Everybody dies frustrated and sad, and that is beautiful." -TMBG

I'll start on a positive note, we'll go downhill from there. Just a warning.
This weekend was beautiful. Celebration day was insane and the weather couldn't have been more cooperative. The after party was only slightly off the proverbial chain. I'd post pictures, but I haven't gotten that committed to this endeavor just yet. Lucky for you, Adam has some great ones. You know, there are some certifiably cool people here (many in the category "too cool"), but they have nothing on old friends. Never will. All trail disappearance aside, we had a refreshing hike Sunday, enough to make me forget how hungover I was. The whole weekend was a fantastic escape from the drudgery that I have felt as of late.
The days since, I'm afraid to say, have been not so idyllic. Monday marked the worst migraine I've had in years and confined me to bed most of the day. Needless to say, my blowslot last night was pure pain (ever stared into the sun with a migraine? yeah.)
Today was a disaster. I met with my advisor and the fact I have two semesters standing between me and beginning my senior thesis really started to set in. After dealing with the usual amount of bullshit errands that accompany any day at Tech (if the Craft Center is heaven on earth, Tech is purgatory at best) I spent the majority of my classes locked in the usual internal dialogue of self-critique (today's flavor-incapable of love and destined to die alone) and circular rumination on why the human race sucks. By the end of the day I was close to melt-down. Ross exhibited nothing but utter confusion (who can blame?) and took my foul mood personally (I suppose telling someone they're better off without you will do that). I don't really remember what happened when I got home, but I dreamed I lost my lower teeth and woke up choking on my own drool. To cheer myself up I watched Blade Runner. That worked.

Listening to: Patty Griffin-Not Alone

It's almost Celebration, bitches!

If Jamie is going to secretly post pictures of me on the internet, I'm going to secretly link all my friends to her blog. Only fair. The picture at the bottom does the bruise no justice whatsoever. Anderson and I have scheduled a rematch for Saturday, weather (and intoxication) permitting. Okay, I've scheduled a rematch; never underestimate the element of surprise, grasshoppa.
Jesu Christo, what a frickin' week, and it's not even over yet. Got my pieces into the gallery today (Look ma, I's a artist!). I was ready to never make another one of those damn things again, then Gail says "do you have any more of these? I'm going to want more when I sell these." "When" she sells them, not "if." That's a high you don't get from the reefer. Luckily, I've gotten pretty good at cranking them out...but is this really how I want to spend my slots?
I discovered (thank you, jesus) that the villain of the mystery "Where the hell did 2nd, 4th, and Reverse go?" is a tiny piece of plastic that holds my rear gear linkage in place. I had visions of a summer spent rebuilding my transmission. Now I can go back to my fantasy of tropical beverages brought by a hot latino poolboy (also, currently accepting applications for one hot, latino poolboy....oh, and a pool, references required). I become more and more tempted to take Jen up on her offer to live at the beach all summer as the semester drags me along kicking and screaming.
However, the rest of this week is joy. The tents are going up around campus, Brian finished the giant grill, people all over campus are cleaning out their studios for the VAS sale, and family, friends and other loafers are already arriving. It's Celebration '04, baby. Charly promises a keg of either Sierra Nevada or Bass (I'll have the Bass, por favor) for the after-madness, a refreshing change from the ubiquitous budget diet of Miller High Life tallboys. If anyone ever wondered just what was keeping the Miller Co. afloat, I have your answer.
I had originally intended to muse upon the fact that one of the reasons I chose the fine arts was to escape the inexplicable evil that is science/math, yet Wednesday's glass class was all Fibonacci annealing cycles, Coefficient of Expansion Compatibility, and GB4 programming. This happens often. My whole life now revolves around gravity and centrifugal force (maybe it's revolving around me, ha ha), and the effects of certain color producing minerals on those forces. Glass is an awesome enough material for me to actually care about these things, though. That's a scary thought. Could a masters in glass chemistry be far off? Um.....yes, yes it can. Quite far.
Listening to: The serene clickety-clack of the keys, and the grumblings of my poor, neglected stomach
Dreading: Working for Charly at 9 a.m. What divine torture will he come up with this time?