there was an article in friday's ny times listing this year's grammy nominees, and the love of my life, mr. john mayer, received five, including album of the year for "continuum." i have no beef with this, it was a fantastic album, but it was SAD. what happened to you, john mayer?

"room for squares" was youthful, optimistic and full of happy love songs. even in "love song for no one," lyrics about lacking love are placed against such happy music that it could be used as an intro for a family-oriented 80s sitcom. despite the upbeat electric guitar used on "heavier things," some of the songs started to get more introspective and sad. new deep? come back to bed? split screen sadness? dude, all you did was break up with jennifer love hewitt. worse things have happened, chill out. and daughters? thanks for the PSA, john. all of this turned out to be a downhill slide into complete depression. continuum is the saddest fucking album ever. i'll be lying in bed and alicia will turn on "slow dancing in a burning room," and immediately i feel like i want to slit my wrists. holy crap. john, are you okay? do we need to have an intervention? before this, i thought the saddest music that could come out of alicia's room was joni mitchell. now, she's a sap. somehow john mayer has topped her.

maybe whatever caused this depression is also what caused him to think it was a good idea to date jessica simpson. yikes!

i don't contend to have much sports knowledge. i mean, i can get through a conversation all right, but when it comes down to it i know just as many things as i overhear in conversations at the bar or read in the sports section of the post-gazette at work. however, i still like to weigh in and blindly pick all my hometown teams to win their respective championships.

my family does a grab bag for christmas. at thanksgiving, everyone writes down a list of things they desire to receive, and then the lists are mixed all up in a hat and whomever you choose you are required to spend $50 on. everyone's lists are always forced, so you end up with 2 sets of red fiestaware or some plaid victoria's secret pajamas you didn't really want. as far as purchasing goes, you could get someone easy, which might merely require a trip to bath and body works for some smelly stuff, or you might get uncle doug, in which case you will most likely end up at advance auto parts buying obscure car care products. ANYWAY, after only three years of participating, last year i started writing down things that couldn't be purchased, just to be an asshole. i was bored. i asked for world peace, eternal youth, etc. my last request was a steelers super bowl victory. at this time last year they were barely squeaking into the playoffs -- actually, at this point, they might have been "out of it." but, not only did aunt kathy pull through on two sets of sweet crimson fiestaware, she also managed to get the steelers one for the thumb (probably found it on sale at kaufmann's before it turned into macy's). i didn't even realize i asked for and got this wonderful gift until a week or so before this thanksgiving when i was creating my 2006 grab bag list. believing i now have some uncanny ability to get my teams national championships via this list, on this year's i put down "pitt men's basketball national championship." i think this will work.

the thing is, they actually have a pretty sweet shot at doing this. obviously i am going to believe they will get there, whether or not they are actually that good. i have put some thought in it, and here are some pitt v ...other teams that i would like to see to maximize entertainment value of the tournament:

1. pitt v. ucla -- dixon v. howland. student v. master. the master teaches the student everything he knows, then the student beats the master at his own game. isn't this the plot of the karate kid?
2. pitt v. unc -- i think unc is constantly overrated. they will probably lose five or six games and somehow by the grace of god still end up with a one seed. i sorta hate them. however, if pitt played unc, jim and i would probably not talk for a week or two. he loves them. i will hope for any match up that leads to a high probability that jim and i will end up in a fistfight.
3. pitt v. lsu -- i still love big baby glen davis. i love his yellow feather boa, his victory dances, his resemblance to shaq. i don't think the world has seen enough of this goon.


i'm just saying, you WANT pitt to be in the national championship game, if not only for the reason that maybe the pictures laura wagner put on the facebook of levon kendall singing karaoke at garage door saloon might make it onto sportscenter.
whoever said facebook is bad was so, so wrong.

today, i have plans to do the following: on my lunch break, purchase the new dave eggers book. it got four stars in some publication, however, it may have been the pittsburgh tribune-review, so i suppose i have to take that with a grain of salt. also, tonight i will be stuffing my middle ear with hydrogen peroxide-soaked cotton balls. after some mysterious event on sunday, i can barely hear anything. the world sounds as if i am underwater. its one of those ailments that isn't any kind of emergency, but is just excruciatingly annoying. all day i am missing conversations, accidently ignoring people, and tonight i will not be able to sing karaoke b/c i am having a hard time hearing myself talk. other people are annoyed by hearing me respond "what?" 750 times a day.

yesterday, i got to leave work early to drive one of our attorneys up to montefiore hospital. at first i didn't want to do this, because the lady is the most untalkative person ever. i've worked here two months. she just learned my name yesterday. with this hearing affliction, the last thing i wanted to do was make awkward conversation with someone i just met. however, leaving work at three with the only responsibilty of babysitting someone's car while reading chuck klosterman and avoiding a busride home is worth the sacrifice. ironically, she is also the most softspoken person in this firm. of all the things she said, i maybe caught one or two sentences. (also, i hope thats real irony, not alanis-morrisette irony, because if it isn't i don't think i know what the definition of irony is.)

sitting in the car, i realized two things. if someone says what they are doing WON'T take an hour, it almost always takes that much time or longer. if they say it will take an hour, it will take five minutes. also, if you stay with the car, you can park wherever the hell you want. my sole purpose for accompanying this lawyer was to park her car and then return it to her after her meeting, so she could avoid paying for parking/the hassle of parking an oakland sidestreet. fine. after i dropped her off, i noticed several cars parked alongside the driveway curb. i pulled up behind one of them, planning to stay until i looked to suspicious. no one bothered me. no one within a hundred yard radius even resembled a parking official. i was sitting five feet from one of those no parking signs. however, if i had left, i almost certainly would have been ticketed/towed within ten minutes. somehow, the driver's presence in the car makes it entirely acceptable to park that car illegaly. had i left this car at a parking meter outside eat n park with fifteen-minutes too few, i would have immediately got a ticket. somehow, i can park MORE illegally and as long as i hang out, i'm cool. it boggles my mind.

some thoughts on my music collection.

when traveling on foot, i enjoy listening to tunes on my ipod. yesterday i was attempting to avoid listening to sad songs because i wanted to be in a good mood (FYI: listening to coldplay magnifies any sadness you have by 1000). so, utilizing the shuffle feature as i typically do, i skipped all songs that were slow or otherwise depressing. this is what i found:
a. the majority of my music collection is old sad bastard music.
b. the remainder consists of mostly late 90s popular rap.

i listened to some big pimpin, a little deja vu -- uptown baby (i actually LOVE this song, i contest that as a popular rap outfit, lord tariq and peter gunz are vastly underrated), a little of that big pun song about not being a player (oh, its called STILL NOT A PLAYER. i seriously couldn't think of it).

i don't even feel that bad about this. my ride home yesterday was quite enjoyable.

some thoughts on nickelback

I hate nickelback. they are terrible. once i told some kid at gds to play nickelback on the jukebox, and i don't think he realized i was joking. i was. however, the funny thing is, even though i hate them and their songs are not by definition original, interesting or even slightly good, i find myself intrigued. if one comes on the radio, i'm not switching the channel. i figured out why: nickelback songs make you nostalgic for things that never happened to you. everytime i hear "far away," i become reminiscent of an ex-lover i've betrayed but wish i could win back. this person does not exist. "photograph" makes me miss the good old times back in my hometown with my tight-knit group of friends who used to hang out in the woods and drink, smoke and generally rebel-rouse to a harmless degree. this never happened either! i was a loser in highschool. my 4 friends and i went to eat n park on saturday nights. we didn't drink. yet, these songs come on the radio and i wish i could pick up the phone to chat about old times. this, i deduced, is the only reason anyone likes nickelback. they are making millions of dollars selling you fake memories.

fucking canadians.

also, chad kroeger is the ugliest man ever.

some thoughts on 316 s bouquet

sometimes you'll be lying in bed and a calm will creep over the apartment, i'd imagine much like it would feel if you lived in a shanty house on chickenlegs near a beach while there is a tsunami looming offshore, not close enough to see yet but there nonetheless.
then, slicing the calm will be the dulcet tones of darryl hall as "rich girl" tears into the air at maximum decibel levels. the last time it happened i literally jumped.

needless to say, we have a good time.

so i was reading the city paper today, and its tool bag editor chris potter had some words about the sienna miller incident. basically, in additon to saying that she should be ashamed of what she said, he said that the people of pittsburgh acted immature in their response. he basically accuses pittsburgh of being way too defensive when attacked by the media/b-list celebrities. the outpouring of hatred towards her, as he cites in headlines taking cheap shots at her "semi-fame" and other reactions from the last few weeks. i have some thoughts on this:

get a life. fuck if i want to be from a city that lies back and takes obnoxious, uncalled for criticism without reaction. sienna miller is a bitch. she is pissed because she's getting paid nothing to do low-budget movies in cities that aren't london, nyc or la. boo hoo. first of all, a headline calling sienna a "semi-famous" actress isn't an insult, it's a statement of fact. she's done rather obscure movies, other than alfie (which bombed). she is more or less famous for her crash-and-burn relationship with jude law. she's not julia roberts; she's not making $20 million a picture. sorry, "semi-famous" is pretty accurate.

regardless, even if it was an insult, she deserves it. she is working in a city and thought it appropriate to trash talk that city to a national publication, and not even intelligently. a coworker of mine had a friend who happened to run into sienna up on mt. washington after a day of filming at the lemont -- apparently, all she did was feel bad for herself because she's all alone in this city, has nothing to do and is regretting taking a job in such a small-time movie. GET OVER YOURSELF. you're not hot shit, and apparently you aren't even a nice person, either. before she trashed pittsburgh, there were 250,000 or so people here who would have opened their arms to her. i don't doubt that for a minute.

pittsburgh may not have the size or glitz of NYC, but one thing we do have is a population that is fiercely loyal (unless your name is kordell stewart). no matter what happens here, or where they go, pittsburghers will always love pittsburgh. who can say they wouldn't step up and defend themselves when attacked? potter's article cited pittsburgh's constant concern with its national image as a reason for its defensiveness. we should be concerned with our image -- its shit. unless you're from here, chances are you are either a. not a fan of the city or b. unconcerned. in a city that has a floundering economy and is searching for an identity to replace the one given by the steel industry, of course our national image is important. pittsburghers will give anyone a chance; any person from here will lend you bus money, chat you up at the bar or demonstrate their friendliness in any other way possible.

i expect nothing less than defensiveness from a city that gets so much criticism. a few weeks back i spent an hour in kopy's on the south side listening to some jackass from philly talk shit on steelers fans and eventually the city of pittsburgh in general. he was mad because the fans gave him so much shit for being from philly (this coming from a guy from a city whose fans booed santa claus, threw batteries and made fun of TO for his suicide attempt. classy.) i tried to reason with him, and tell him that yeah, philly is a wonderful city but pittsburgh has much to offer, too. he refused to understand. okay dude, then don't live here if you hate it. go to temple.

basically, i think any reaction we give sienna is warranted and frankly, i hope she feels terrible about it. anyone with such a low level of class doesn't deserve our respect unless its earned back. waving your actress flag to a bouncer at a bar when you forgot your ID won't do it.

basically, chris potter, who are you to criticize your city's response? a semi-famous editor of a mediocre newspaper? yeah i thought so.

man, i'm so mad. go pittsburgh.

i'm promising myself i'm going to write more frequently. it's october now; it's been since early august. that's sad. october is my favorite month of the year. perfect weather -- days that are chilly, not needing a jacket to be outside quite yet, but past the days of sweat-soaked clothes and constant sunlight. i prefer when it's overcast. i hate sun. call me dreary and pessimistic if you must.
i'm keeping my window open as long as i can. i need to be cocooned in the down comforter to stay warm, but it's worth it: nothing makes a bed feel more comfortable than the snapping of october air in the window. it does, however, make getting out of bed the most heartbreaking thing. and showers in the morning are terrible. still, i'd rather be cold.
i'm having that itch again -- i want to get out of my apartment, the city, this state. maybe i just want something from home -- a connection with a person, a chance to sit on the red-plaid couch and watch television, or to drive to wal*mart or blockbuster. i never claimed to love greensburg, and i'm sure i'll never go back, but sometimes just unapologetically leaving a place behind feels too empty. if i've got nothing to salvage from twelve years, are those twelve years gone? what does it mean if i didn't leave my mark on that place? and i'm wondering how i will reflect on pittsburgh next year or a few years down the line -- i hope i feel differently. all i want right now is to go home and have someone welcome me, but it's changed so much since i lived there. maybe i learned a lesson about so frivolously letting something go.

only a few more days until i move into the apartment on south bouquet. alicia is on vacation until sunday, so she'll be moving in monday. i picked up the keys yesterday from our landlord, an older woman who lingered at the foot of the steep cement stairs outside our place while i stood on the porch, fiddling with the lock for the first time. the apartment is a little more run-down than i remember -- it's weird, when you're looking at apartments, desperate just to sign a lease to guarantee not being homeless in the fall, how even the worst apartments don't seem so bad. then in august, empty in the interim between tenants, the living room is smaller, the tile is grimier, one of the cabinet doors in the kitchen has a fist-shaped dent in its lower-left corner.

august is one of my favorite months of the year, not because of the weather or the fact that school is still out (its hot, i'm always anxious to go back), but because oakland is completely in motion. for a few weeks, dumpsters on sidewalks are full of the remnants of the old place that aren't important enough to drag across town. on my way to work today i was tempted to garbage-pick -- there were a few beige chairs, seemingly untainted, that would be perfect to fill up the kitchen table. i had to catch myself. cars are packed up, u-hauls park on front lawns. in the week before school, traffic lines the streets as the live-at-home-for-the-summer students return. then there's all the excitement of a new place: buying furniture, kitchen appliances, new sheets for the bed, new bath towels. meeting new neighbors. carving the groove of how things will be for the next eleven or twelve months -- which way to walk to and from the apartment, which chair is yours in the living room, where certain pieces of permanent decor reside about the apartment. all of this while it's still 90 degrees out; you can have something new, and still hang on to summer.

something i will miss about my apartment on neville street (things which might be impossible to call right now, with little distance, as the things i miss about mckee place were things i hated or was indifferent to when i lived there):
an across-the-street neighbor plays the saxophone, usually in the late afternoon. he's not any good; i never realized how difficult it must be to master this instrument until the warm months of this year. he usually plays scales, the notes separated, not smooth. i never figured out the musician and i don't know why i attribute them with a masculine pronoun. i'll miss laying on the couch, or sitting on the back porch, listening to him practice for hours in the afternoon. this is a phenomenon that doesn't occur where i grew up, where houses are too far apart for the neighbor's noise to drift in. the only time i can remember was driving past the house at the bottom of penn adamsburg road -- an old man lived there, played the organ all the time. that is one of the things i love about the city; even in an empty apartment, you can feel the presence of people living in houses not spaced out by green and miles of back roads.

i ran into my friend brandon at bootleggers wednesday night, haven't seen him in months, maybe a year. he used to hang out when we lived at mckee. he told me he'd just been thinking about that year, how he had such a good time and it may have been one of his favorite years ever. it seemed like all we ever did was play beer pong in our living room, considering whether or not to skip piano class on thursday morning. we drank american light, we pissed amber off, we woke up to the smell of leftover beer and cans strewn across the living room and kitchen.

someone in those houses around mckee-louisa-meyran played the bagpipes: my favorite thing about mckee place. i just bought a typewriter on ebay, a smith-corona silent from the 40s. i hope its loud; i can make up for never becoming good at the guitar by filling south bouquet street with the click-clack of typewriter keys.