Sheer. Fucking. Boredom.

"Type type type" go the keys, "furrow furrow furrow" goes the brow, and thus I get away with doing something completely worthless at work THUS NOT FALLING ASLEEP FOR 3 MINUTES IN MY CHAIR.



Everything here is so fucking soothing. The lights, the soft "crrrrrrrrrrr" of the AC vents, the faint whirring of xerox machines down the hall, all coupled with the knowledge that outside it is cool and overcast and just on the verge of raining... all of this makes Nat a sleepy boy.



Over the past week I've become aware of certain vaguely secretive activities going on around me, things that they keep hidden away in filing cabinets that have fat steel combination locks incorporated into the handle. These are the dealings of players so far above my head I can't even figure out what the hell they're doing even when it's written on the page in front of me... I'd type some of it out but then I'd get ARRESTED HELLO SECURITY CLEARANCE PROVIDERS!!! HI!!!



Time passes, and now I have ONE HOUR TO GO. Bike to home. Metro to train station. Train to Richmond. Car to beach. Feet to porch. Hand to lighter. Lighter to bottlerocket. Bottlerocket to [glory]. THIS, friends, is the trajectory of my life energy on this dreary day.



Sometimes I feel like I'm living in The Office, but instead of funny coworkers I have a lot of uptight Eurobankers and instead of finding ourselves in zany situations we just find ourselves sitting alone, using Access and Excel all the time.



I've been wasting altogether too much time on Flickr recently... there doesn't seem to be a single place in the entire world you can't find an amateur photo of [including Nuuk and Pitcairn(!)]. Unfortunately there's also no shortage of douchebags who suffer from Chronic Self-Portraiture Syndrome... Brush your bangs into your eyes, look up into the air, and cut your eyes to the side a little. THERE. Sexy. No. We don't need another one. Really. Stop. Self-absorption is one thing, sure, but these people don't seem to have any sense of shame whatsoever...



GET OVER YOURSELF, YOU VAIN [apparently CHILEAN from the rest of your pictures] BITCH.





^ this guy's getting the fuck up outta here, and so am i.

Advice to live by

Special thanks to Mr. Keating for bringing this to my attention.

Chalo, chale mitwa...

Another nice long weekend spent travelling. This time around, however, the transfer airport was pleasantly Atlanta, which only partially made up for arriving in the dingy little shitbox that is Chicago Midway airport.


/obligatory plane picture

Regardless, Chicago seems to have changed very little since last time I was there... four? five years ago? Having lived there for more or less a year, I had been feeling an uneasy mix of excitement and psycho-emotional trepidation at the prospect of re-walking the sidewalks of yore, like when you accidentally run into a parked car but instead of stopping you move on but then return to the scene of a crime the next day. You're on guard, you're nervous, yet there's no real threat... and I was just beginning to feel at ease, enjoying the city for itself rather than for its baggage, when-- oh HELLO, FREAKY-ASSED FOUNTAIN IN MILLENIUM PARK.


/the end of the world as we know it

I suppose I'd have found it much less creepy had it been sunny out... but no, it was nightmarish, dark and humid, and the little urchins playing in the water underneath that face only drove home the impression that we're truly living in the End Times. I was still eager to see the "Bean" as it had been described to me, and which I suppose everyone has by this time read about. And yeah... it was pretty damn cool... but dirty.


/mad mad world


/ugh, gross

The occasion for my visit was serving as a groomsman in the wedding of one of my bestest friends from high school, Paul, to his long-time squeeze Ambika. Held at the Adler Planetarium, it was quite the affair:

/panjabi women = hot


/feet


/the happy couple


/"Paul, you've got shit on your neck" -- actual quote


/more feet


/[glitter]

oh and I finally found one:

Draft letter to Clarke re: IMF counterclaims

bu-ya!

Love makes me sleepy

This past weekend marked my first trip ever to Milwaukee, my first "college wedding", and Virginia Slim's first public performance since Kenyon.
w00t!! kinda like riding a bike...

6am tomorrow brings yet another friend's wedding in Chicagooooo (that tawdlin' town), two more red-eye flights, and several more Chicken McNugget layover meals in nondescript midwestern airports... I think this one's gonna be Detroit.

In the meantime, here's a song from Jim Noir... keeps me from going overboard-aggro on the TSA screeners.


Right Click ---> Save As....

MY BOSS JUST SAID "FUCK"