i’m with jared. ready to shelf this thing for a while. tired of staring at electrodes. is reality an mpeg file? is this what God had in mind for us? the internet opens the whole world up to you so why does it feel like you have to be chained to it? is it really the world in there? sometimes i sit here, hand on mouse, poised and ready to steer my eyes and ears to pleasure, and turn my head ever so slightly to the left just in time to catch a convertible breezing by the window, hair in the wind, highway behind, free as a - bird. i’m jealous. i gotta get out. this is no adventure. this is just another self-inflicted useless battle. computers suck. money sucks. am i wasting my time even now? the answer is yes. i’m gonna go do something.

something weird is happening.

last night i got home and my front door was locked. but i dont lock my front door. ever. its one of the nice things about living in a small town…you can leave your front door unlocked and nobody will bogart your stuff. but what may happen is that a conscientious snoop will lock your door after theyve come in, gone through your underwear, eaten a little debbie and moved your globe from the left side of your desk to the right side. yes, thats right, my globe seems to move every few days and i never touch the sucker.

so, like i said, something weird is happening.

i am beginning to wonder if somebody traded me for someone else. that maybe, im not really me anymore. that somebody transplanted me in my sleep with an alternate me. i feel like myself and i look like myself, but im not acting like it so much. over the past 4 days ive probably traveled over 50 miles on my new vintage roadbike (yes, i know new vintage is an oxymoron), i cant stop reading, i have the compulsive desire to study even after im prepared for lectures, and ive majorly cut back in my computer use. although, that last fact is hard to tell because of all the posting ive been doing here. i even feel like making art. a jared who exercises, cant stop studying and isnt hooked to his computer? what sort of doppleganger is this?

but anyway, i just wanted to say that if you happen to be the door locking culprit then ive one-up’ed you. i brought my house keys with me to work today and i wont have to crawl through the window to enter my own house. and i am about to bike over to the hardware store to get copies made and im gonna hide the keys in super secret locations so you cant lock me out anymore. but if you want to come over, thats cool. you know you are always welcome and there is always a little debbie and some ginger ale for you. just stop moving my globe, please. its weird.

oh, m. ward released a new record today. go buy it. actually, buy two copies and leave one next to my stereo the next time you decide to make your secret visit.

i have to do laundry today. and i usually try to schedule certain garments to be worn certain days then recycle them until they can stand up on their own, then do a 3 day washathon at a friends place or at moms. but thats not happening this week. ive been biking too much and am therefore thoroughly soiled and have nowhere to go for a free wash. so its to the washeteria i go. there are a couple in town, and the one closest to me is in what most people would refer to as the “lagrange ghetto.” but its not so bad, and its next to the piggly wiggly, the only grocery in town where you can get just about any cut of pork you desire…snout, tail, innards, ears, whatever. its all there. anyway, the last time i was there i befriended a bum who inbetween loads went into the alley to shoot up or take a piss or do something he wasnt supposed to be doing. he was the first white guy i’d ever seen in there. he actually said, “mmmaaannn, you know, youre the only white dude ive ever seeeeenn innn herrrreee, maannnn.” and i replied, “yeah dude, youre the only honky ive seen in here, too. i know we arent the only two poor whiteys in town. where is everybody else going?” we had a good laugh and i shared a fudge round with him. so anyway, i dont know what the point of this post is other than to invite you along. we can do some laundry and hang out and listen to the ipod and get some little debbies from the piggly or do something we shouldnt be doing in the alley. sounds like a night you cant deny, doesnt it?

ok, so this isnt very succint, but quite perspicacious. it hit me hard, in fact…put words into what i’ve been feeling since the newness of my ipod wore off, as ive plugged in and over the past half year become a full time computer/internet user-owner. my cup runeth over.

http://pitchforkmedia.com/columns/puritan-blister/05-02-18.shtml

…i wish i was smarter. so i wouldnt have to parade around, acting all phony, pretending to be a professor. pretending to be a professor is hard. especially when people really expect you to be one and ask you questions like, “whats the difference between the via moderna and the via antiqua in relation to thomism?”

…and then sometimes i wish i was crazy. not all-the-way-certifiable-nut-job-crazy, but at least enough crazy to where the people who knew me would think i am a genius. because you dont have to really be all that smart to come off looking like a genius. i could probably get away with it on the iq i currently posess, i just need a few more loose screws. or a good drop on the head. or someone to lock me in a closet throughout adolescence. because once those screws start getting lefty loosey then you can answer questions like the one above with something like, “dish detergent or elbow grease, a tub of luke warm water” while you wear your sweater backwards and have messy hair and b.o. and people would think there is some sort of allegorical or deep meaning to your answer and your quirky behavior. but there isn’t. youre just making shit up because you’re crazy. and you cant dress yourself properly or practice proper hygeine. because youre crazy.

but its all a farce, really.

i walk around and pretend to be a professor and you go to your job and pretend to know about what you do and who youre supposed to be. really, we are just carrying around masks and “frontin’.” (thats hip hop lingo. see, at that moment in the sentence i was pretending to be “fly” and “with it.” i just need to bust a sag in my drawls and i’d have that shit down, yo.) we move day to day, always projecting some signifier of ourselves, but never revealing the real thing.

and there are a lot of reasons why we do this. but i dont have anything humorous to say in conjunction with them. but in case youre wondering, yes, “dish detergent or elbow grease, a tub of luke warm water” does actually have an allegorical meaning in response to thomism. actually, its metaphorical. ill just let you try and figure it out. that way, i look smart. and my sweater doesnt even have to be backwards.

so everyday i peddle fast and furious on my vintage bicycle, to campus then back home, back to campus, over to the art building, back home. loops and loops from one place to the other, throughout the day. my ipod earbuds are always snug in my lobes, my multi colored scarves tied in big knots with the tail ends flying behind in a trail of wind and pace. i pedal slightly bowlegged, as to not get my bell bottoms caught in the chain. and i am never without one of my many army surplus shoulder bags. in new orleans there are thousands of people just like me (sans scarves…because its freaking hot down there). but here in lagrange there is no one. i am a lone cruiser, a solitary hipster of speed and style.

its nice to feel unique. we all strive for individuality, and despite how in some locales my choice of cycling is cliche, here in lg i am novel. special. when i meet people for the first time they say, “hey, youre that guy who rides that old bike,” which means people notice. it means people talk. sometimes people wave as i pass. drivers stuck in their cars often smile at the sight of me, and i cant help but think that maybe behind their smiles they are mulling over how free i look and how they, in their suv cages of fume and consumption, arent having nearly as much fun.

except sometimes…like the other day…

i got run over by a middle aged woman in an old silver buick.

ok, so i wasnt run over EXACTLY, but it was pretty close. sideswiped is a better word. yeah, sideswiped. i was cruisin down main street and she was driving right next to me, to my left. apparently, she didnt know i was there and decided to make a right hand turn and thus, the sideswipe. fortunately i turned to the right to try and parallel her, rubbing up against her car, grabbing onto her roof, shutting my eyes in hopes that i wouldnt get impaled by the radio antenna. because a radio antenna through the eyeball would suck. anyway, after the buick and i became untangled and i regained control i lifted my left hand into the air, my middle finger saying everything i couldnt vocalize. i wouldve raised both hands and given her “the double,” but i havent mastered the no-hands trick quite yet. my bicycle is a little too squirely for such shenanigans.

the whole incident shook me up a bit. ya know, its not everyday one gets sideswiped by a buick. so i peddled home and took the afternoon with a book and a few glasses of ginger ale. you could come over for some ginger ale if you want. its good. and i always have some. its a nice post bike ride beverage. or, if you prefer we could have it before a bike ride and we could peddle over to the confederate cemetary and read the headstones. or bike through the projects and play with the kids or find an abandoned building to sneak into it. it all sounds good to me. just keep an eye out for the buicks.

12 years ago was 1993. i had braces. and glasses. big, round glasses with turtle shell rims. i combed my hair, tucked in my shirt and wore what my mom bought for me. i hadnt yet kissed a girl. i was in the youth group and thought it was cool. somehow, i had made friends with a lot of the older guys in the youth group. years later i realize that they were band nerds, high school rejects and geeky youth groupers. but then, i was a sheltered, preppy mama’s boy who didnt know the difference and was happy for their acceptance. they liked “christian alternative rock,” flannel was all the rage, and everyone wanted to be grunge. and so did i, despite my forced wardrobe of jc penny fashion. anyway, they liked me, so i automatically thought everything they deemed as cool was really for real cool. including the prayer chain. you see, the prayer chain was the youth group grunger’s alternative to that sinful seattle sound. but unlike ccm’s answer to hip hop with phonies like that dc talk garbage, or their answer to guns ‘n roses with bands like whitecross and petra, the prayer chain were actually good. they “rocked,” they were “edifying,” and your mom still didnt like the sound of it (which automatically makes any band worth listening to when you are 15. you know, for rebellion’s sake).

i found my old copy of the prayer chain (not my original, mind you. i had the tape before the cd) hiding deep in my record collection the other day. amazingly, its still “rocks.” really. and i remember ALL the lyrics. but maybe my love for it is awash in sentimentality. afterall, it was with “shawl” that i, in all my tone deafness, mimicked lead singer tim taber and created my very own and very mean grunge howl/scream (complete with eddie vedder-esque facial expressions for maximum effect), learned how to head bang, how to mosh and how to crowd surf…all while never losing the perfect part in my carefully combed hair, never ever letting my big round turtle shell rimmed glasses fly off my face and certainly never letting my shirttail get uneavenly tucked. because mama wouldnt approve of that. neither would my private christian school teachers. you CAN’T be out of dress code or its “d-hall” for you, buddy.

so, here’s to the two jasons, billy davidson, and chris callahan…wherever you guys are. thanks for driving my no-license-jc-penny-wearing-dork ass around town, taking me to the rock shows and for always having the prayer chain in the tape deck. and here is to this week’s special record…one that i have resurrected and listened to at least 8 times since finding it a few days ago. THE PRAYER CHAIN: SHAWL.