So a few weeks ago, I wrote a little thing for the school newspaper about the low-quality of the food here, and how swiss cheese should not be on quesadillas. People liked it.

Today I go down to the cafeteria, and one of the foods available for consumption was three-cheese lasagna.

Me: What are the cheeses included?
woman (1): mozzarella, you know, a basic lasagna cheese.
Me: But it says there's three. (I point)
woman(1): Oh, I'll go check.
[woman(1) exits]
woman (2): Have you been helped?
me: Yeah, I just asked what are the cheeses in the lasagna, she's finding out.
woman (2): are you the guy who doesn't like swiss cheese?
me: Yeah...
woman (2) you're our worst enemy.
me: I'm a dick.
woman (2) [to another employee]: he's the one that wrote that article. [to me]: why do you still eat here?
Me: I've got this meal card, you know?
woman (2): yeah, i understand. I want to fill up your car with swiss cheese, your sleeping bag. just, melted
Me: I don't mind being smothered with swiss cheese while I sleep, I'm just not big on eating it.
woman (2): I asked my grandmother if she puts swiss cheese on her quesadillas, she lives in .New Mexico, she said yes.
Me: well, your grandmother is lame. (I almost called her retarded, but decided that lame was much less offensive, and I kind of trailed off as I said it anyway)
woman (2): she told me to do this (gives me the finger with her gloved hand)

I should point out that this exchange was largely jovial in nature. I should also point out that woman (1) returned and told me the cheeses, listing three but saying there was one she forgot. One that she named was cottage cheese, which seemed kind of odd but whatever. I bought the lasagna and some ice tea. The lasagna tasted terrible, as the noodles were undercooked and hard to chew. I feel like there's a dead animal in my mouth, and not like chicken or some kind of tasty dead animal; it's like my mouth is where a raccoon goes to die after receiving some kind of wound.

That's a pretty accurate depiction of what happened, but some of the sequencing might be off. The thing about her wanting my life filled with swiss cheese is very much what happened, as is her giving me the finger, and my feeling this mixture of sheepishness of everyone realizing who I was and pride at finally having made myself an enemy.


I feel like I should give a shout-out to my friend Thor, who said that this blog was one of his five favorites on Internet Explorer. When I said that it was whiny, he said that it wasn't whiny, but was wry.

So thanks Thor. You might not be the god of thunder that is your namesake, but you are truly a king of awesome.

My roommate's watching I Love the '80s Strikes Back. Here's what's cool: They just covered some kinda' underground-ish music. I appreciate this because maybe now there will be more people my age who associate 80s music with more than just fucking Men Without Hats. It was the underground that was on the upswing in 88: They were talking about REM, Jane's Addiction, Sonic Youth. The Sonic Youth was what surprised me enough to actually make me say "yes." the riff from Teenage Riot got played, and Michael Ian Black complained about their dissonance. REM wasn't really underground by 1988, but it nonetheless made me happy to hear them being discusses, even though Green for the most part sucks.

Here's my point: Sonic Youth got talked about VH1. Yeah, VH1 fucking sucks, but I'm just happy to see Sonic Youth in any kind of context.

Just want to clear something up for those people here at college who don't know me very well, or I should say, who do know me very well, and just don't know my past.

The self-deprecation is not fishing for compliments. I don't do that. At high school, I appreciated a select group of people going "Brian jokes, but he's really a good person deep deep down." But I liked that there were a lot of people who probably just viewed me as comedian guy. And then there was the large group that hated me. It's shallow, but it's what I'm comfortable with. I know that people wouldn't hang out with me if they thought I was a total asshole, that can go unspoken. I feel so much more comfortable when I know there are people that think I'm a total dick. For one thing: Most of what I put forth is an asshole pose. I've said this before, but maybe not everyone has heard it: You can't express the sum total of your personality at once, so everything is a pose. If people have seen the part of me that's a good person, when most of what I put forth is TOTAL ASSHOLISHNESS and being contrary, it's like people have seen me naked. Way too many people have seen me naked.

For another thing: It's totally hilarious when people aren't in on the joke, especially when the people not in on the joke suck ass. Everyone is in on the joke, it seems. That joke isn't even some kind of complicated Kaufman-esque gag, it's the fact that sarcasm is completely different from being earnest. I really thought a lot of people at this school wouldn't get that. I expected this to cause me lots of giggles. Maybe some pain and whatever, but mainly just laughter. I can say the thing about hating hippies, no one gets that that's mainly in jest.

Of course, this thing exists, when is pretty much sarcasm-free. But the audience is limited, and everyone knows what my deal is. Well, the people I go to college don't know how many enemies I made, or how much joy that caused me. To both of these things the answer is the same amount: A lot. Why? Because I'm a dick, goddammit, a total fucking asshole.

So I have to write a one-page response paper to The House Of Mirth by tomorrow. I bought the book today, read 99 pages, and started my response on stuff that hasn't even occurred yet. Because I don't have any real information, I think I blew my load in my introductory paragraph.

So here I am, listening to Le Tigre on headphones, even though I'm not a lesbian, and writing this.

If anyone's going to be around Philadelphia for Thanksgiving, they should see Liars live at the First Unitarian Church. And if anyone reading this actually lives in the area, they should go to the Manitoba/Broadcast show, not to mention the Yo La Tengo show, or the Built To Spill show.

You know what I want to do? Rock.

But instead it looks like I'm just going to go to sleep. That is to say, not rock.

There wasn't any food I wanted to eat at that little happening. So I came home to an empty floor, browsed around iTunes and found a dude with a copy of The Notwist's Shrink and put it on. I thought I heard some doors open and I was all "Hey, people," but it turned out just to be friends of Ian, the douche that everyone hates.

I am a good judge of character, in that I was the first person to hate him. He was talking to my roommate about role-playing, and I thought "this dude's fucking pathetic." Then he was hitting on some girls in that cheap sexual innuendo kind of way and I thought "this dude's fucking creepy. and unfunny." Then I heard a story that he narc'ed out a group of people, including many a friend of mine, that was smoking pot. Now everyone hates him. I was on the forefront.

So now I'm back, and um, The Notwist are good.

I've written way too fucking much in this thing today. Someone shoot me. Or just grab hold of me and make me do stuff. Otherwise I write. Not a book, not a short story, not a script, just this narcissistic bullshit. People read it, but I can't imagine anyone likes all of it. Shout-outs to bands no one's heard of? Shout-outs to cartoonists, the same thing? Re-telling of stories that everyone I go to school with here has already heard told?

When I wrote "this is a character assassination," as a description of this blog's content, I was wrong. This is masturbation.

So tonight at the college is a little school-sponsored event entitled the Fall Ball. Dress is "As formal as you wanna be" meaning, in my case, not fucking very. I asked two people if going, getting food, and then leaving was a douche thing to do. And both said no. Both these people are planning to go, and it would be their fun I would be wrecking with my not-dancing, wearing the same thing I wore all day, and thinking about how much I hate gatherings.

However, I have resolved this much: Not to talk about my hatred of gatherings at the large gathering. See, I am slowly learning the ins and outs of social decorum.

Not that I'm becoming less anti-social. In fact, I'm probably becoming more so. Now, rather than talk about my hatred of gatherings in the hopes of meeting some kindred spirit and actually having a genuine human connection (which is always what it was, it was never just catharsis and misanthropy) I'll write about it for the fucking internet and my small audience (let's say five people read this) of people I've already met and talk to on a regular basis so I can type it out and not have this actual conversation with them.

You know what softens the blow of the Saturday night home alone? Blasting music out of your stereo. FedEx picked it up last week for inspection to see if they owed money, but instead of doing that, they shipped it back to New Jersey.

No blow is softened, my own personal cancer remains uncured. And so concludes this broadcast. I was thinking I'd have this thing online for a week and then just have it self-destruct but I think I'm going to self-destruct instead.

I woke up from a nap and drank some juice (Nantucket Nectars' Pineapple Orange Banana). I feel so energized, such a good feeling, like my body's made of rubber bands. I want to smash my face against a window. I have all this energy and no real way to release, I want to tear myself apart but not in a self-destructive way. I want to walk through the streets screaming Pavement songs, which is a constant feeling, but now more than ever.

Every building same height, Every street a straight line

If this doesn't feel as energized as it seems like it's supposed to, it's because I lost this post and had to retype from memory. I still do feel that way, only right now it's coupled with wanting to take a shit. It's a weird combo. My ass is full but my arms want to freak the fuck out.

Two words: Goth party. There's a goth party on campus. I don't even know how goths exist at Evergreen- how can you hate everything when acid makes everything so beautiful and full of light? But apparently they do.

In the interest of hilarity, I decided to go investigate with the people I am planning Breakfast Party with. (we make breakfast and we eat it and music plays. Music I own!) One of these dudes is named Cameron. Cameron is a very happy enthusiastic hippy who had the idea of Breakfast Party. He was wearing a V-neck cardigan sweater thing that I'm sure is quite soft. It was light blue. So me and Cameron went to Goth Party.

On the way I asked if anyone had a Sharpie so I could write "I Hate The Smiths" or "Bauhaus Fucking Sucks" on my undershirt/skin. No one did, but on my way in, I said something about hating Bauhaus. Some goth girl laughed but there might not be a direct connection.

There was black electrical tape forming a pentagram on the door. Bang on the door and the door gets opened. Red light and smoke. And cut up black plastic hangs from the ceiling. And garbage bags are taped to the walls. Not filling any one wall, they're just kind of there. I go, I laugh, I see people from my floor who rock Ecko clothing and bust freestyle rhymes and I laugh some more. I make my way towards the door and I can't escape. More people are coming in, including people I'm friends with. I'm sure they were all pretty drunk. I leave, because no one wanted to hear my jokes about goths sucking ass.

But you do, my internet friends.

That said, if they had been playing Liars- Fins To Make Us More Fish-Like (who aren't goth but are dark and INTENSE like goths and dancey so it's a party, hence it would be perfect for GOTH PARTY)
I would've gotten the funk out.

Speaking of getting the funk out, when I went to the comic shop on wednesday, the clerk guy asked if I was the dude who just moved here who was friends with Jim Mahfood. I said no, but the clerk says "yeah, there's some dude who moved here who's friends with Jim Mahfood, he asked that if he comes up to visit or something, would the store want to do a signing? I said yeah." So yeah, Jim Mahfood's pretty fucking cool. Also: the store has like a comics fair thing in March or something. In 2003, the guests of honor were Craig Thompson and Gilbert Hernandez. I was so worried about this shop being super-suck-ass and geeky because its name is Danger Room Comics.

The irony is that no one knows who Jim Mahfood, Craig Thompson, or Gilbert Hernandez are and I am coming off like the biggest geek in the world. I am aware.

But seriously, consider the geeks at The Evergreen State College Goth Party. (sure, I was one of them technically, but, FUCK YOU!) My roommate's there now. I told him there was a girl wearing a VNV Nation t-shirt and that was the clincher, he just had to go. Today's his birthday. He's going home in the morning. I'm going to Breakfast Party where I will rock the pancakes (and the Built To Spill, Sonic Youth, Manitoba, Neutral Milk Hotel and Pavement that people told me to bring) something fierce.

You should all read The Believer and Arthur. These are the only things that matter, for these are the only things that are good and pure.

http://www.arthurmag.com

http://www.believermag.com

Arthur is free. The Believer is not. Hence, I don't actually own any copies of The Believer.

Someone just walked into my room and informed me that tomorrow, at 12:30, is Topless Revolution. Everyone take off their shirt, be comfortable with their skin, etc. I predict the gender breakdown to be 90% male at this event. That is all.

That seems so inconsequential a thing to post, but let me explain why it needed to be said: That is how life works.

Best compliment I have ever received: Evie Nelson on a piece I wrote and had published in the school newspaper: "It's very 'I read McSweeney's.'"

It's an even better compliment for not even being, you know, real. It doesn't say my writing is good on its own merits, or even that it had any of the kind of quality one would find in McSweeney's.

Just that I'm a hack.

But a hack for Things That Are Awesome.

Oh- I listened to that Rapture record I mentioned yesterday, and it's not that good.

I sure do start off paragraphs with the word "Oh" a lot. See any e-mail I have ever sent for more examples of this.

Good day for new music. New Shins record out, Echoes came out, a Yo La Tengo EP, the Hedwig And The Angry Itch tribute thing came out, the new Blow record, and the new Strokes record.

None of which I will buy in the foreseeable future. The Shins record eventually, and maybe the Rapture as well. But I just listened to the Strokes record, and it's not very good. I'm not a music critic at all, just an opinionated asshole, and yeah, not. very. good.

http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2003/01/07/draft/index_np.html

http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2003/10/17/army/index_np.html

Both of these articles are really interesting. How weird is it that the guy who brought up the draft legislation is a Democrat, and maybe not even a total dick?

There's a drum circle outside my window.

I didn't think it would be this bad, really I didn't. I really don't even want to have one of these damn things, too much navel-gazing. But fuck, when there's a drum circle beating in your brainpan, what are you supposed to do?

I guess this will be read largely by my friends, who now have every right to hate me. This is terrible.

So here's the summary, which brings us to where we are now. Spent most of my life in the suburbs of Philadelphia, with the past summer actually being spent in Philadelphia, living with my brother. Then I moved to Olympia, Washington to go to The Evergreen State College.

Today in The OlyWa, Olympia's free newspaper du jour, there was a review of the book Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs, the book by Chuck Klosterman, ex-editor of Spin. Apparently, in the book, there's a line about people attending Evergreen because they don't want to attend life.

I'm of two minds about this. The first mind says "Fuck you, dude that was involved with Spin, you totally unfunny if-only-I-was-Douglas-Coupland asshole." And continues on that tip for a while. The second says "well, that's what I've always thought college was."

And when I say "always," I mean since sophomore year of high school.

Oh, so in the realm of good news, iTunes is available for PCs now. I downloaded it, and am able to access other people's music in a much easier way than dicking around on the workgroup network bit. I'm listening to Dinosaur Jr.'s Bug on my headphones now. I wish someone had You're Living All Over Me, as I've been feeling the urge to hear In A Jar.

The Olympia economy sucks though, jobs are hard to find, and CDs are 2-3 dollars more here than they would be at AKA Music or Spaceboy in Philadelphia. (this is before sales tax, which is 8.8%) I've decided not to buy any more music or rent any more DVDs until I go home for Christmas break. Just stuff I can't get for free, like books and comics and food.

Oh hey, in the between-track lull, I could discern that my roommate's listening to the All-American Rejects. Ugh.

I met a dude tonight who was posting flyers. He's from Omaha, and is going to try to get The Faint to come here. The Faint aren't good either, but I'd see them, probably. Just to seek refuge from the hippies.