blog.big-woop.com

"Now tickets to concerts and drinking at clubs, / Sometimes for music that you haven't even heard of. / And how much did you pay for your rock'n'roll t-shirt / That proves you were there, / That you heard of them first? // How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?"

I'm going to Unlimited Sunshine!

C A K E
MODEST MOUSE * KINKY
FLAMING LIPS * DE LA SOUL
HACKENSAW BOYS
ROY WILKINS AUDITORIUM
SAT AUG 31 2002 6:30 PM

Tonight we enjoyed the first post-strike deadline Twins game at Champps. We lost, but we were just happy to be playing. Oakland won its sixteenth straight, God DAMN! We also dropped sixty-some dollars, which wasn't too bad, considering there were eight of us and all I had was Dr. Pepper.

Earlier, John woke me up around half past noon today and we headed off to Chipotle. Yes, the chicken fajita has proven quite the delicious breakfast staple this summer and it being the last real day off before school begins again, I saw to it that I enjoyed myself. This included watching television and painting the garage, as well as a nap at some point, but I really can't recall when. I think it may actually have been last night, when I was awoken by Joe and John returning from dropping someone off, but I'm not quite sure. That may have never actually occurred.

I also had a beer today.

"It's okay," said mom, not knowing it was something I would enjoy drinking. I think she waited a little too long to try and sour me on beer. That's something to do a little earlier on in life. She probably should have tried harder, when I was a little younger, like, say, a fetus. I think FAS would put a pretty good stop to my ever touching the stuff, but instead I don't find it all too unappealing. Thanks, mom!

Peace.
-Todd

I got my braces removed at the orthodontist's today at 9:20A. I got my teeth cleaned at the dentist at 1:00P. I went back to the orthodontist's at 4:20P to retrieve my retainers. If I have to deal with teeth again anytime in the near future, I think I'm going to scream or vomit or do both, simultaneously, which would just be messy and it wouldn't be a good thing... for anyone... especially not for me... or for anyone who may chance to bear witness to such grotesque transpirings.

Peace.
-Todd

Tonight we (Myself, Charlie, John, Joe, Ben, Meg, Emma, the Dad and Aaron) went to the Twins game. We beat the Mariners, who need to get out of this slide if they want to be in the postseason. A loss tomorrow would most likely be crippling. The score, by the way, was 2-1.

Afterward we went to Wendy's and ate us some quarter-pound double stacks, which were mighty tasty, then returned to my house to watch Pulp Fiction, which, I must admit, is a pretty damn good film.

Earlier I watched The Simpsons at John's house and ate his Corn Pops.

Peace.
-Todd

Today I began work on the Quickstop album. I think things should go alright with it, but the band wants to order 1000 copies of their CD. That's too many copies. I think I need to convince them to lower it to 500, which they probably still wouldn't sell all of.

Joe, Ben and I finished the screenplay for Echo, which is going to rock and roll. Afterwards we trekked to Walgreen's and Cub, then took in Ben, John and Jacob, with whom we hung out into the wee hours at Eclipse Records. Guest appearances were made be William and Joe S. as the night wore on. Returning home, John finished his tasty burger, then Ben and I argued for a while about what movie to watch. Enter John, who dug deep into my collection of videos, settling finally on game seven of the 1991 World Series: Possibly the best game of the best World Series ever. So now we are enjoying one of the greatest moments in sports history. I'd say that's a pretty damn good way to end a pretty damn good evening.

Peace.
-Todd

At 9:00A I had breakfast with Amelia. I got to say goodbye to her, as I'd wished. I'm going to miss her, but I'm ultra-happy for her. I know she's going to do great.

Returning home, the notion of sleep crossed my mind, but for some reason I didn't capitalize on the opportunity. I mowed the lawn, scheduled my Senior pictures session and tried to get in touch with my counselor about making some changes to my schedule for the forthcoming school year. This afternoon I lied around a lot and didn't do much, but tonight John, Chris, Ben, Charlie, Joe and I all went out and painted the town red. I took the digital camera, so now everyone can join in our rowdy misadventures with a little project I like to call 26 August 2002.

Peace.
-Todd

Jesus fucking Christ! Is it possible to get writer's block on a weblog? Isn't the whole point that I write about whatever little it is I do so that four or five random people can laugh at what a loser I am? God Damn! I've done all sorts of crazy random shit recently, but I can't even begin to think about how to write it all down!

On the 24th John, Brendan, Emily and I went to music stores and I foolishly all but emptied my wallet on various albums to which I haven't even finished listening. My brother and I stayed up late the night before and watched episode after episode of the Simpsons from the DVD that Joe lent me. I stayed up until about 9:00A on the 25th to sort through my purchases from the night prior. Having finally fallen asleep, I woke up around 1P and picked up my bicycle at Joe's house. Afterward, I returned home and aided my father in laying sod. Arriving not long after was John. After another trip to the record store, we went back to John's house, and picked up his father, with whom we went to the driving range. John and I returned home, ate, watched The Little League World Series, got wrapped up in pointing out to anyone who would listen that Louisville's pitcher is obviously either too old to be playing little league or is on testosterone shots. Either way, the kid looks older'n I do. We hopped back in the car after enough and picked up Joe with whom we went to the record store and to whom I expressed surprise when I thought about having picked up my bike earlier. It seemed like days between then and now. My schedule is THAT fucked up. I should probably go to bed now, though, seeing as I got four hours of it last night and only slightly more the night before. It's getting pretty late tonight, too. And I have to be up at 9A! Fuck.

Peace.
-Todd

I can see the sky begin to lighten toward blue and I feel miserable. I have been in and out of bed about fifteen times, and with each attempt feel more and more unfortunately awake. It can't be insomnia. I'd assume something like that would be more gradual, and this has come on all at once. Perhaps the rather bland act of typing may dull my senses enough to give me a few good hours of rest. My eyelids do feel somewhat heavier, and my mind seems to be clearing, but as soon as I lay back down every thought that I've been dreading will rush back into my conscience and I will be up again.

Peace.
-Todd

I wake up at 11:15 and I am entirely distraught. I'd planned on having breakfast with my girlfriend (who is leaving for college in a week) at 9:00. I go anyway, in some random hope that she may still be there, even though she started work when I woke up. I sat alone and waited. Then I woke up. It was a dream. It was also 11:00. My dream just became real. Fuck.

I can't believe I did that. How I slept through my alarm going off at 8:30, my phone ringing not long after nine and the doorbell ringing shortly thereafter, I'll never know. I feel absolutely horrible. I called her as soon as I woke up, even though I was sick to my stomach (and have been since I first looked at the clock this morning). She was ultimately forgiving and perfect and amazing. Then she said she'd call me during her break, which I probably missed somehow.

I feel like shit.
-Todd

"Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great."

Everyone should immerse themselves in the wonder that is Ben Folds. I can say, without a doubt, that he is truly amazing. Anyone believing otherwise should take the time to pull their head out of their ass and listen to Magic off of 'The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner' and both Fred Jones pt. 2 and The Luckiest off of 'Rockin' the Suburbs,' because these three songs best exemplify into what I believe music was intended to evolve. The rest of his songs are not without their charms (Brick and Still Fighting It come to mind), but these three are especially amazing. They are masterpieces ('Masterpiece' is one of those words that I believe is still respected enough to not be thrown around, but these songs are just that).

Today I met with Jeremy, Maggie, Hattie and Keegan. The latter three (as well as myself) are concerning themselves with college applications and the coming school year. I'm frightened. Hattie's current crisis is with finding a good reference. Keegan's, writing a good essay. Mine, how to spell the names of half the schools I'm applying to, much less find them on a map. Hell, I've never heard of Appleton, Wisconsin! Shit, I didn't know that's how you spelled Illinois! I'm drowning in the fucking kiddie pool while my friends are preparing to swim the English Channel. Speaking of which, tomorrow I'll be saying goodbye to Kate and Liz, and to Kelsey not long after. That makes me sad, which makes me kinda want to go bowling tomorrow...

Yeah... bowling.

Peace.
-Todd

Tonight Ben, Sam, David and I came up with our most creative scheme yet: We made a sign to bring with us to the Twins' game tonight which read "PEDRO: BRING BACK THE GHERI CURL!" This statement is in reference to the absolutely horrid hairdo Martinez sported while with the Montreal Expos. Pedro was so upset, not only did he give up his first run in 35 innings pitched (a towering home run by David Ortiz), but he would actually allow another four! On the other side, the Twins' Joe Mays pitched an almost flawless game, not allowing a hit for five and two-thirds innings, or a run for the entirety of the game.

Afterwards, the four of us went to Ginkgo, where I purchased Charlie Parr's CD "Criminals and Sinners." It's outstanding. We also fit in a trip to Eclipse, which was nice.

I came home around 1:30 and redesigned the splash page.

Peace.
-Todd

This is what things look like now. The background photograph is by Russell Lee. I found it while perusing the Library of Congress' American Memory Project. While looking for pictures from around my neck of the woods I ran across a collection of amazing photographs take in War-era Minneapolis-St. Paul, many of them focusing on a group of migrant farm workers resting in the Gateway Distric of Minneapolis. As it turns out, most of these photos were taken as part of the Farm Security Administration - Office of War Information's wartime collection.

Headed by former economics professor Roy E. Stryker, the collection was intended as a document of cash loans made to individual farmers by the Resettlement Administration and the construction of planned suburban communities. Its second stage focused on sharecroppers and migratory agricultural workers. Photographers involved included Lee, Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, Arthur Rothstein, Marion Post Wolcott, Gordon Parks and Carl Mydans.

I plan on creating a site for Lee's photography of Minneapolis and Saint Paul, as well as for others' work from the same era.

Peace.
-Todd

I don't know how long it's been since I plugged Chickenhead. Frankly, yesterday would be too long ago. In any case, this is the most amazingly hilarious collection of parody and satire that I've ever seen. Hell, it's a lot better than the shit you're reading right now. So, because you've visited big-woop.com, you now owe it to yourself to peruse the hilarity within the pages upon pages of Chickenhead. Don't leave for a solid forty-five minutes either because it's just that damned good.

So, the next version should be around shortly, because once again I've gotten bored with the way I've presented myself for the past few months. Up next should be something not entirely unlike what I've done recently because I'm too lazy to come up with anything else.

I also finally got around to scanning my photos from the Vermont Arts Institute.

Peace.
-Todd

Amélie était le meilleur film que j'ai vu récemment.

Paix.
-Todd

My problem wasn't as big as I thought it was. That makes me glad, but part of the problem remains. I should be able to get around the rest of it on Monday between the hours of one and four or on Thursday, though.

Peace.
-Todd

I haven't written recently. No one cares, though, so it's alright. I've kinda had a lot to think about since coming home, and because of said mental impedence have been unable to fully enjoy my first week back home. I may have simply created this problem in my head, but I worry about it just the same. It would be great if it was my own creation, but a lot hangs in the balance. Namely my sense of well-being. Having replayed the situation over and over in my head has only made it a bigger problem to deal with, and despite knowing I should figure it out as soon as possible, I dread what may be the outcome so much I've refused to act on it, and that has lead to mild insomnia, which is not good.

Check this out. It's damned funny.

Peace.
-Todd

I'm HOME!

Peace.
-Todd

I'm going to see Bob Dylan tonight at the Worcester Palladium with my cousin Seth. Man oh man am I looking forward to it. I thought I'd never forgive myself for having missed him in Saint Paul, but now I'm redeeming myself... in a sense. I'm going to Harvard Square today as well.

Yesterday I went boogie boarding at Hampton Beach in New Hampshire. It was pretty sweet. I really like it in Boston. It's pretty nice here, except for the traffic, which is insane. The only other problem with Boston is the massive inferiority complex it suffers from. Nowhere else does anyone wish more that they were New York. They have their own version of Central Park, their own version of the Subway system and their own version of a baseball team, none of which can quite match up, the latter having missed every opportunity at a ring since 1914. It's actually very nice here, though, because Boston still maintains some of the colonial beauty and luster that New York had (as far as I know) never really obtained. Boston's version of Park Avenue is a lot less irritatingly posh, though.

Peace.
-Todd