Another Fifty Years

          New Year's Eve. Most of the Boston birds have flown their coops, but a few friends would be coming by later on. I cleared out my email, registered my Charlie Card to avoid future losses, kept up work on my blog, and decorated the ceiling. Johnny and Peter came over to play pong, sign up for Obamacare, and then e-file our dissolution report for the ballot initiative, which was going nowhere. Johnny brought along a bottle of champagne: the mayor of "BALLATORE". Sabrina, Lauren V, and Laura showed for a brief period, and we all played Up & Down the River before the girls whisked Peter off to their next destination. Kofi, Emily and Lucy joined us for the evening; we played Kings and affixed sticky notes to each other's forehead, but try as I might, the room lacked chemistry. Soccer Physics provided a fun respite, as did a joint-enhanced jaunt to Domino's, but on the whole, it didn't seem like my friends had that great of a time.
          Quotes of the day:
"We're officially out of politics." - Johnny, impersonating Obama
"...for now." - Johnny
"What the hell is Obama gonna do for another 50 years?" - Johnny

King Beats Bishop

          I spent the morning and afternoon working on my blog, then bundled up to visit Kovu and Nancy Reagan. After attending to their food and litter, I talked sleepily with Jennifer and eliminated reams of emails. I remembered that hockey was a thing and watched the third period of the Rangers vs. Lightning match; at last, New York beat Big Ben in the regular season, outscoring Tampa 5-2. Professor Dom held a lecture with his old backhand tricks; he is also the fucking man. What a win.

Start of the Season

          Like a vampire, I rose at 2 a.m. with a thirst for Soccer Physics. Once I'd sated that desire, I went out on the deck to scrape together enough of Boston's first snowfall to pack the Bing. It was beautiful but severe: hard, scraping and frigid, painful to the touch. I spent my surplus creativity on the beer wall, bringing it up to date with all the leftover pieces. After some more minor tasks, I went to check on Jennifer's car and found that the snow had shifted into a relentless, pelting rain. The first 66 bus on the schedule disappeared inexplicably, and the next was late; I hadn't even left the neighborhood and my coat was soaked through. Because I am a) an idiot and b) notoriously bad at estimating distance, I got off the bus at the Brookline Linden Street, not the correct one in Allston, even though I've been there. (For sharing a relatively uncommon street name, they sure are close together.) Miserable, I walked all up and down the street, worried about the car, got my feet hopelessly wet and bothered Jennifer before my mistake became apparent. I walked to the Walgreens to wait for the next 66 along with another passenger, and the next 66 blew past us. I chose to see this as an opportunity, picking up rubbing alcohol and cookies inside; when I came back out, the other guy showed me a useful transit app. Soon a bus came for us, and in short order, I found the car just as Jennifer left it.
          Down the street, I picked up some Jimador and vodka for myself and Maddie's long-due root beer. I successfully took a single bus back to Sewall Street and walked home, grudging every sodden step. There, I stripped down, set some alarms and fell asleep. Unsurprisingly, I missed a Boston Cares orientation I'd planned to attend downtown; luckily there's another soon. Kofi came over late, with midnight around the corner. We used the rubbing alcohol to clean five pieces, including the one I found on moving night, Obamacare; we deployed ice and Eli's trumpet mouthpiece to make it work again. For these two Americans, affordable care became a reality! We played Soccer Physics, watched two episodes of Daredevil, and talked about the Blue Jackets until sleep came.

How Sweet It Is

           I watched the "last" five episodes of Narcos. I think this is a personal record for fastest completion of a show, and wow, is it good. There's a kind of emptiness in the spot it had so briefly occupied on my watchlist, as if it had slipped through my fingers like sand. It feels surreal to aggressively binge such intense material, especially with questionable sleep habits. I think I took a nap after that, though it's hard to say; time was all flowing together at this point. Though it was chilly out, something told me to go out on the deck, and I did. For a few minutes, I stood and observed the neighborhood; many songbirds were calling out from the stand of trees between Fisher and the street below. I was admiring their song when the wind lifted up, they all silenced at once and flashed out of the trees in a single wave. They soared high and wide of the trees, leveled and flew west. The morning was still and cold; something about this felt meaningful. I braved the cold again to do the laundry, fittingly completed the 24-hour achievement at 11:20 a.m., and cleaned up the trash in our backyard courtesy of the bros upstairs. I hit the wall and resigned to sleep in the middle of the afternoon.

Contra

          I came out of hibernation around 5 p.m. Realizing I hadn't fed her cats yet, I ran to Jules's apartment through a light, cold rain and found her there -- a dumb miscommunication. Of course we started smoking, and I robbed myself of a rare productive impulse, which is not to say I regret it. We hotboxed Nancy Reagan in the bathroom; her wary old eyes opened into a wondering gaze and she scanned the room with interest, and also hung out behind the toilet. Jules and I talked seriously and discussed the achievements list, and then I went home to continue with Narcos. This show is extremely well crafted, tense and exciting, and the historical elements make it that much harder for me to resist.

Remember 2006: Year of the Banana

          I woke up early, smoked and chilled with Jules for hours, and did some final organization. I then burned incense, aired out the house, and flooded it with music. These are perks of living alone (if only temporarily.) When my folks arrived, it was with a glorious pile of food, and some presents as well! I got a Walter White bobblehead from Ian, a Rangers winter hat from my parents, and Andes mints (huehuehue.) We walked Bitsy to the park, swung around the block, and then went to Il Mondo, where I picked out an enormous calzone. When we came home, I played a dash of broomball on the street with Ryan, and water pong with Ian. They all took off as the sunlight turned orange and gold, low over JP. Later on, I went to Michelle's to keep her company while she packed; Kofi showed up before long, and Anneloes came home too. We played six rounds of bananagrams and I won five, drinking hot toddies (a first) and bourbon & cokes along the way. I stayed up through the night, talking to Jennifer for an hour on the phone and beginning to binge Narcos. After three episodes of that went by in what seemed like no time, I took a "break" and continued with Jessica Jones.

EZ

Mr. Claus

          I woke up at midday and took Christmas calls from home and my grandma. Donning the Santa suit I found during the last Allston Christmas, I cleaned and organized the apartment, feeling festive. Jules came around 5:20, and we smoked a joint out on the deck; Kofi soon appeared in the driveway. We all played pong, smoked a gold joint out on the deck, then watched Chicken Run (vegan trigger warning!) Another joint, some tea, and the mood became sleepy.

Cold Medina

          On Christmas Eve, I was woken by a call from a BPD detective inquiring about Alaric's mugging. I then slept for the entire day and some of the night too, rising from my coffin at 8 p.m. I decided to do some housework, smoked, and moved erratically from task to task. I watched a couple episodes of Jessica Jones, which I'm enjoying in a slow-burn way akin to The Wire. Tiring of that for the night, I started in on Narcos and watched a few installments, glued to the television. This show is larger than life; Wagner Moura is brooding and scary as Pablo Escobar. I walked around, turning on lights and opening all the windows -- 60 degree weather on Christmas? -- and went to sleep as the sun came up.

Stars of Track and Field

          My last day of work this year went on far too long, just like last time. I spent three hours messing around in Constant Contact thanks to some very exacting demands from a client. I stayed until 8:30 p.m. doing Drupal work and more or less finishing the VHS project -- a twelve hour day, and no overtime to speak of! At least the company bought everyone lunch from Tatte, seeing as there were only five or eight people in the office -- I tried lamb for the first time in a meatball sub. I also shit three times today, which speaks to the power of coffee and Red Bull mixing in the human stomach. A blowing rain battered me on the long, happy walk to Community College, but I was overjoyed. I liked my job there, but I'm ready to move on to another phase of my life, one where I'm not reading about cancer every day. Not yet, anyway.
          After work, Kofi came over to play pong, order College Pizza, and watch the super bizarre Battle Royale. I had thought this movie was animated, probably thinking of the manga version. Though the effects have not aged too well, BR still wields a brutal power. It's hyper-violent, and the effect is sharpened by its strange dreamlike quality. The soundtrack is phenomenal, especially during the part with the fire. (No spoilers here!) Internet business: I registered for a hockeyfights account; I unsubscribed from Martin O'Malley campaign emails with this note: "I never gave you my email. You're Sanders-lite anyway."

.     .     .     .     .

"Come at me! Every inch of me will resist you!" - Chigusa #13

Break the Seal

I think I mentioned this before, but for quotes pulled from the internet, I prefer to leave in typos and grammatical errors to preserve their character. I may also have said the opposite and changed my mind. My memory isn't the best.

          It was a quiet Tuesday with a double dose of caffeine. Drupal uploads seemed to stretch eternally, and I listened to pumping pseudo-'80s synth music to stay alert and productive, like Lazerhawk's Redline. Keeping last year's last-minute haul in mind, I carried home most of my personal belongings today. In the evening, I played some more smoke pong with Jules and cleaned house. The Rangers beat the Ducks 3-2 in OT off a two goal night for Brassard, with the GWG scored by a certain hobbit.
          Quotes of the day:
"This other guy on the thread is just like... throwing out straw men like a farmer in Oz." - Jennifer
"You look compressed." - Jules, re: my new pants
"I'm an American . And really proud of it . [flag emoji] I love my country . But there is a difference between you and me . I'm not a ignorant racist . Everyone is equal . And if you think you better than other . You just a stupid morherfucker" - Diego C., to a Trump supporter, via facebook

PC: Kofi

The Rock

          Jules and I played "personal pack pong" in the kitchen, ordered Food Wall and laughed hysterically in the kitchen after trying to scrap. We also had a cathartic, much needed heart to heart.
          Quotes of the day:
"Never, ever forget that Senator Graham used a flimsy pretext to walk away from the 2009 climate change deal that had already passed the House - and for which he was leading the Republican effort in the Senate. On the most important issue of our time, he was the opposite of a profile in courage. And that's what they will write on his gravestone - he let down humanity when a little political courage could have given us an extra six crucial years to fight climate catastrophe. Those are the facts. He failed his biggest test. Facts First." - user FactsFirst, via the internet
"You will never defeat 'radical Islam' until you understand these 7 points:
1. There's no Muslim Brotherhood without crushing British colonialism.
2. There's no Iranian Islamic Revolution without the US imposed Shah impoverishing the country.
3. There's no Taliban without the Soviet Union's invasion of Afghanistan.
4. There's no Hamas without the Western imposed settler-colonial project - Israel.
5. There's no al-Qaeda without US financing Sunni extremists.
6. There's no Hezbollah without Israel invading southern Lebanon.
7. There's no ISIS without the US invasion of Iraq." - CJ W., via facebook

Linden Street

          At Curry, I scanned and uploaded all extant polaroids in my collection. The process took a considerable amount of time, but Jules has been harassing me to put them online, so it was needed. I obtained wings from Wings at 4:21 p.m. Jennifer came over in the evening to say goodbye before she leaves for the holidays.

Porphyry Font

          I really, really did not want to get up for band day. 7:45 is an outrageous call time for a Saturday event that the council had little hand in dreaming up, and I would have had to do it on probably four hours of sleep; I'd have to rise around 6 to get home from Allston and then back to campus. Jules went above and beyond to call me and see if I was coming. I slept in, then took the Green Line home after managing to miss two 66 buses. At home, I felt guilty and did my own thing for a while, eventually deciding to skip hockey in addition to basketball. Most importantly, I finished my paper for Prof. Dukakis. If he accepts it, that's one ordeal over with.
          I went to meet Jennifer at Primark, though at first I stood waiting like an idiot in the entryway to Macy's. One of those weeks, I guess. It's fun to browse in Primark; their prices are impossibly low, at least comparatively. Unfortunately, they are sorely lacking when it comes to clothes for women of actual normal size rather than très petite, and also apparently non-huge men. I tried to find pants that fit me and that was a total farce; the underwear section was even more unbelievable. The rack takes up essentially an entire wall and must be 90% large, x-large, and/or Star Wars branded. Maybe all of the small and medium stuff was just bought and they're trying to move the rest of the stock? It is a mystery. The mood was a little tense during our shopping expedition, but things got better when we returned to the apartment. Along with Alaric and Jess, we drank and played beer pong in the kitchen, took polaroids, and listened to gangster rap.

Sediment

           I reached Friday with a single hour of sleep. Three heaping cups of coffee (they really are, with the amount of sugar I put in) made me capable of speaking and shuffling around, but not much beyond that. One of the PR services I use had an announcement that referred to "the festive period," which is even worse than "season's greetings." With nothing in the tank, I went to Allston and tried to drink beer with Cara while Lucy, Emily A and Jennifer played cards and Sawwon occupied the couch. I just couldn't and napped for two hours, and everyone seemed listless when I woke up. I felt like I ruined it. To stave off the bleak mood, we went on a CVS run for soda, pringles, cookies and apple juice, played Up & Down the River, and got stupidly drunk before bed.
          Quote of the day:
"Refresher:
Jan 30th 2001 - Saddam's removal is top item of Bush's inaugural national security meeting.
February 4th 2001 - cheny energy task force begins secret meetings with oil company executives.
March 5th 2001 - Pentagon produces document titled 'Foreign Suitors for Iraqi Oilfield Contracts' for Cheney's task force. Includes a map of areas for potential exploration. reveled July 7th 2003
September 11th 2001 - We all know
September 12th - '[Bush] told us, 'I want you, as soon as you can, to go back over everything, everything. See if Saddam did this.'' Told evidence against Al Qaeda overwhelming, Bush asks for 'any shred' Saddam was involved. - Richard Clarke reveled March 22nd 2004
Sept 21 2001 - Bush briefed by intel community that there is no evidence linking Saddam to 9/11, reveled to public Nov 22 2005
Nov 21 Bush collars Rumsfeld physically and asks: 'What have you got in terms of plans for Iraq? What is the status of the war plan? I want you to get on it. I want you to keep it secret.' - Bob Woodward. public finds out April 18th 2004
etc.. Bushie boy and company no dought screwed america over in the name of their cronies whims." - user JohnJustice, via the internet

Fixated Stalker

          I stopped at my final DOC for a few minutes before rushing home to work on my paper for Prof. Dukakis, and skipped the holiday reception at my previous co-op too. I didn't have a date lined up anyway. I took forever to get going, but I did get some revisions done on my paper before hitting a wall later on. Alaric was mugged by two men on his way home. It was around midnight, and he was apparently in a low-level state of shock when he came home, forced to buzz in because his keys had been taken with everything else in his bag. These guys took his computer, phone and wallet, but strangely went out of their way to give back his coat after rifling through it. I agreed to watch Game of Thrones with him in an effort to dispel the immediate stress, and went to sleep feeling like a mess around 5 a.m.

Raise Your Hopeful Voice

          I got up feeling dog tired and found an email from Prof. Dukakis, something I didn't have time to deal with. This occupied my thoughts all day. After work, I headed for the Citi Theatre to meet Jennifer, who looked radiant; we picked up our tickets for Once, then stopped for dinner at a Vietnamese place called Pho Pasteur (colonialism, anyone?) Jennifer opened her Christmas presents, a soft blanket to keep in the car and a "Grow Your Own Boyfriend," though the third gift is stuck in a shipping center in Detroit. She instructed me not to open my gift until later.
          It happened to be the deaf/hard of hearing performance tonight, so we ran into a few interpreters Jennifer knew. Prior to the show, the audience was allowed to come up on stage and give the set a closer look. It warranted the attention; the set conveyed a dusty, aged quality, with lots of ornate old mirrors of various sizes arrayed along the back wall. Next, the performance. Once was a fantastic show. The characters are quirky and amusing, but still relatable; the folksy, buzzing strings and stomps gave me the impression of a past Ireland sitting half in reality, half in nostalgia. "Leave" and "Gold" were as great as I'd hoped, and when a brief, angelic a cappella reprise of "Gold" surfaced, it was almost spiritual in its purity. We went home together afterward; Jennifer was ribbing me, saying that meant the date must have gone well. I opened my present to find velcro command strips and six doses of our favorite psychedelic -- two things I can't say no to. Those were thoughtful gifts.

Better Than Corsi

          Work has been quiet since Kati left. I burned some idle time reading hockey news. Here's a stat that should bend your brain: the Rangers are 164-1-9 in their last 174 regular season games where they entered the third period with a lead. Lundqvist is what, half of that? I also found this enlightened conversation in the comment section of the Rangers Report:

RICK C. [blog author]: "For all intensive purposes I literally could of cared less"
ONECUPIN76YEARSANDCOUNTINH (sic): "The sandwiches there have sand which is there"

          After work, I watched the Republican presidential debate with Dylan, Sky, and then Jules, Kofi and Alaric. These debates are reality TV at this point; the assumptions underlying so many of the "policy" prescriptions discussed are riddled with racism, unvarnished greed, and misinformation. They just make me angry and I still don't know what makes me tune in. After much weed and much incredulous yelling at the television, we ate brownies and watched Inception.
          Quote of the day:
"Two nips only for him!" - Maddie

Inflategate

          Here it is: my last full week at my last co-op, and of course every work week worth its grinding suffering includes a Monday. On the Toys for Tots front, the controversy over Jacob's playing cards continued at low intensity via firm-wide Outlook smack talk, mockingly dubbed "Inflategate" by another team leader. With my heart in my throat, I contacted Mark in the CEP office to beg for an extension, since I need something like thirty-five more by the end of the month. He was stern as expected, but granted me until February 1, which means I'm hauling ass next month.
          I met Michelle for dinner at Mission Sushi. We discussed apartment moves, our dating lives, and general scuttlebutt. Sushi is my idea of comfort food. I value Michelle for this -- she is so kind, pragmatic, and since we move in different circles, there's enough distance where we can confide easily and freely. The worst part of eating on South Huntington is climbing back up over the hill in the cold, feeling every bit a Sherpa (except all my baggage is in my stomach.) At home, I chatted with Dylan and kept honing my skills in Soccer Physics.

Silk Spectre

          The sun was drifting lower in the sky when I rolled out of bed. I watched Jessica Jones into the early evening; Jennifer came back later and did some work. She's Jewish, so we celebrated Hanukkah by lighting several (loosely defined) candles while she sang the blessings. It was all quite peaceful. We ordered Food Wall and I talked politics with Dylan. After we finished the second episode of Jessica Jones -- twice in a day for me -- I fell asleep despite intentions to the contrary, and woke up feeling rustled at 11:30. I stayed up late from here, decorating, scribbling on a Bible with a permanent marker and doing my typical night owl routine.

Caterwaul

          I went home late on the 66 and arrived only half an hour after call time for the men's basketball game against Stony Brook, On the Go sushi in hand. We won 75-62 and never trailed in the game, though it was a close contest at times. It was a great game, especially considering that Stony Brook is hardly a bitter rival. (Do we have any rivals in CAA hoops? Drexel?) Also, petty theft. Jennifer came over later on. We started our evening with a few rounds of hide 'n seek, sat out on the deck for a while, and watched a short but bizarre documentary on a professional cat photographer. It's hard enough to capture a human's real personality in a photo; I imagine taking quality shots of animals is even more difficult. We also started Jessica Jones and got through an episode and a half; it's promising so far. Jennifer had work in the morning and went to bed, and I stayed up to (finally) watch the entirety of The Departed. This movie is shockingly good. I'm not sure why it didn't draw me in the first time, but there were so many scenes where I found myself thinking, this is sweet! Leo DiCaprio and Matt Damon are their excellent selves, Jack Nicholson tremendously overacts ("chewing all available scenery") but that's what he's there for, and Mark Wahlberg... woof.

PC Cara (note Pixar lamp in background!)

Nicest People In the World

          Christina reached out to give me the bad news: Harold passed away while playing chess, the game he so loved. Harold lived to the ripe old age of 93, saw and accomplished so much in his life without losing his kindness and humility, and I'm sorry to see him go. Rest in peace.
          I said goodbye to Kati, too, since she'll be in Miami for the last couple weeks of my co-op. In the Toys for Tots department, Patrick somehow got a hold of a Red Team strategy email (we're Green -- oh yeah), printed out numerous copies on green printer paper, and distributed them around the office. The pharmaceutical industry seems to be getting nervous about the prospect of new regulations, running thinkpieces with names like "The Folly of Targeting Big Pharma" in papers like the Wall Street Journal, often hiding behind the editorial board's veil of anonymity. That's an actual headline.
          After work, I smoked and watched more hockey with Alaric. I'm not sure how I'm still hungry to watch after the last week, but here we are. Update: it's still shitty. I went to Winter WonderBand somewhat late and was given bid #666. It seemed a bit more fractured than in the past, and I spent most of my time there playing Cards Against Humanity and losing as usual. Later on, Jared, Trevor, Jules, Maddie, Kofi and Alaric came over to watch John Wick. This movie feels like a Keanu Reeves pet project and looks like a blockbuster, with a stacked cast and fantastic action sequences. (Representative sample of said cast: Theon Greyjoy from Game of Thrones; that evil guy from Pillars of the Earth; Wesley from Daredevil; Lester Freamon from The Wire; Lt. Daniels, also from The Wire; and motherfucking Willem Dafoe. Plus an unconscionably cute dog.)
          Around 2:45 a.m., with the buses and trains stopped for the night, I decided to run to Jennifer's apartment. I'm glad I made this journey on foot, because it is nothing like taking the bus. Almost no humans were out and about; the streets were warmly lit, but eerily empty. I was coming to understand another of Boston's contours, a process that's taken the last five years and could easily absorb another five without bringing me close to mastery. I stopped at the old toy store along the route, where a sign read: "Ethel [redacted] passed away on December 10th. She loved her customers!" A little shrine with sticky notes arranged in a heart shape was accompanied by a pen on a string. An old scribbling from the owner read: "The nicest people in the world come into my store." At the apartment, Jennifer and I sat together on the couch and admired their new Christmas tree. It was lit up just right, and made me feel very much at home.
          Quote of the day:
"Radical extremist. How American. You steal two cans of soda? Shot to death. You steal a box of cigars? Shot to death. You jaywalker? 8 police piled on top and clubbed you down. You play with a toy gun in the park? Shot to death. You are mentally challenged and sits in a wheelchair and did not put your hands up in air fast enough? Shot to death.
Shooting someone to death seems to be the only answer now. Next time you spit your gum on the sidewalk, someone may draw a gun on you too. Wait, someone was shot to death for texting in a movie theater!
Who needs courts and law when we have guns? It's wild Wild West." - Xiao X., via facebook

Year of the Dog

          The office was somewhat hung over in the morning -- at least the grunts who have to show up early, like me -- but it was a simple day without much to do outside of sorting those VHS tapes. At home, I started to write Alanna a letter and promptly trashed it. I read Show Them, Martin St. Louis's recent essay for the Player's Tribune, and almost cried again. (Click here to read; this piece captures a lot of what it is to be a fan. Also includes that goal that always makes me water up.) It was a great night for hockey: Montreal lost to Detroit, Washington lost to Florida (kek), St. Louis lost to Philadelphia in their own house, and the Predators mauled the Blackhawks 5-1 -- the only thing that could have improved Darling waving at the puck was if it had been Crawford in net instead. Too bad the Rangers didn't play tonight (though I guess they would have lost, so.)

Detour de France

          The Toys for Tots shit talk is intensifying in the office. Snarky emails are flying back and forth between the teams, most recently fueled by Jacob's contribution of something like twenty packs of playing cards. (Walking down the hallway, you could hear people arguing whether those really constitute "toys.") I spent most of my day sorting through hundreds of old VHS tapes with PR highlight reels and ancient ad campaigns; I estimate that 0% of them are still relevant, but we're going  law firm status on them. It seems almost biblical: thou shalt retain these relics for no less than seven years.
          The office holiday party was hosted by Commonwealth, just down the street. It was a classy affair with fancy hors oeuvres and an open bar; I took advantage and tried three new beers, including the fantastic Boom Sauce by Lord Hobo. I chatted with Tom, Aaron, Devin, Grace, David W, and Patrick at points, sometimes keeping to myself and just listening to the chatter. When I started to feel anxious about being in public I just stuffed my face with cheese crackers and hummus. The higher-ups picked out employees of the year and raffled off some schwag. Once I sensed a growing inability to stop smiling, I bowed out.
          I walked/stumbled to Kendall and found a mob scene. The Red Line was shut down and shuttles were allegedly taking people to Park Street. Three packed buses were just idling by the curb, some with the lights switched off inside, and the driver of the closest one didn't know which way the bus was going. Rather than diving into the mess of humanity, I walked intently to Community College. Even my normal walking speed creates a lot of strain on my shins and knees when I'm walking on concrete, but it was worth it to sit down on a near-empty train.
          Jennifer met me for a few moments at Roxbury Crossing; we kissed and waited for her bus home. I too went home, smoking five or six bowls with Alaric and Kofi. Nathan piqued my interest in Jessica Jones; David Tennant looks outrageously evil, though I can't help but associate him with Dr. Who. I watched the Rangers somehow manage to lose to Vancouver; the pain is acute at this point. The three of us hung out in Alaric's room, played Soccer Physics, listened to Tibetan meditation music, and discussed romantic prospects.
          Quotes of the day:
"Some little girl's gonna wet her pants when she sees this." - Colleen, re: a huge Frozen activity pad
"The loneliest Pied Piper." - Jamie, re: Jacob
...
Rob: "What's the bill code?"
Patrick: "700 go fuck yourself."
...
Kati: "You started with chocolate stout?"
Me: "Yeah, I gotta eat dinner before I can start drinking."

Little League

          I couldn't concentrate at work, thinking about the broomball playoffs later on. We really had no business being there -- when we got to Matthews, our opponents were wearing matching "Boston Bruims" shirts and practicing roofing the ball into the top of the net. I watched one guy do it three or four times in a row and felt a little sick to my stomach. From the beginning, it was clear that at least one or two of their guys played some level of rec hockey; we spent most of the time fending them off in our zone. It was a fast, offense-heavy game and the referee swallowed her whistle, calling no penalties even when sticks were going vertical and people were sliding around. It was intense, but still sportsmanlike compared to some earlier contests. We couldn't pick corners and shoot high like they could, and were losing 6-0 in the waning minutes of the game. Nick ended that shutout bid in a final offensive, sneaking in low and wristing it past their goalie; afterward, he'd say, "I just got that feeling." It was a great game, all things considered.
          Quote of the day:
"The real answer is: you don't lick blood!" - Jake C

Get Used To It

          It was a startlingly fine Monday at work -- I rustled up all kinds of free food to carry me through the "hungry" phase (basically the whole day.) After I came home, Jennifer came over to sit on the deck and eat blueberries. She made a collage with some of my cast-off decorations, mostly alien images from the medical illustration sourcebook, while I cooked bacon and listened to the Wild play the Avalanche. (They sustained a loss in OT. Bummer.) Next, back massages, and discussing what animals we would be. I'm a mole, or a toad, or a ram, or a hyena.

The Unbearable Lack of Scoring

          I got up around noon, walked into the living room and discovered Emily and Jules there. We smoked, talked and listened to Bun B while Alaric and Jess played in peanuts. We were also predictably late to the hockey game against Boston College. We went up 2-0, gave up a goal and then quickly regained a 3-1 lead, then crashed in the third period and lost 4-3. I am so tired of getting blue balled by this hockey team, every year. To soothe our hockey feelings, Alaric and I went home and watched the Rangers finish smoking the Senators 4-1 at the Garden; next, Sabres vs. Oilers (minus an injured McDavid) until the Oil scored a bullshit kick-in goal and I had to turn it off. We let Nathan know we wanted to talk about the disastrous trash situation unfolding in the kitchen, but he apparently spooked and never came home from whatever business the fraternity had going on. In the middle of the night, I registered for spring classes and did 51A mandatory reporter training for the upcoming Band Day.
          Quote of the day:
"Did you see my text about existentialism?" - Emily

Coffee Dad

          Maddie told me she woke up drunk; I know I did. My Uber last night somehow cost a monstrous $24 -- I can't let that happen again. Jennifer and I shared a relaxing morning at her apartment; we eventually dressed and headed out to Herb Chambers, just a few blocks down the street. While we waited, I decided to get a coffee to fend off the coming hangover. In another example of technology somehow making life harder, the computer inside the Keurig took minutes at a time to recognize input, as a receptionist informed us when we went to her in confusion. Someone had spilled coffee inside the spill tray -- like a full coffee -- so I cleaned that up, along with some empty cups. Jennifer got her coffee without incident; I did it and forgot to put a cup under the nozzle. I cleaned that up, tried to make another cup and the machine told me it had a water supply problem. I tried a few more times, finally did it right, and then dropped a whole Splenda packet in, paper and all. I guess I needed the coffee more than I thought.
          The blue light on the dealership floor gave our skin a green, pasty tint. While we waited, we commented on a promotion by Toyota, "#Selflessie", that was capped at an ultra-cheapo $200,000 maximum donation to charity. (Pro tip: If you're trying to change your corporate image, actually do something of more than token significance.) We briefly met with a younger guy and discussed the car Jennifer had her eye on, a silver Prius, used but in great condition. I rode along on the test drive, and we made small talk with the salesman and drove around the block. At the end, we pulled into the narrowest possible street for the situation of a garage and parked under the dealership. Jennifer decided to go through with the purchase and we met with another guy, a pleasant older man who walked her through the finances.
          Once the papers were signed, Jennifer and I went to the Super 88 food court for lunch. This is a magical place. I went for some hella greasy pad thai with crispy chicken, and together we sat and enjoyed our food. It's noisy and a little dirty in the food court, but it feels organic and the variety is something else. We came back to Mission Hill and holed up in my room for a while, laying and talking. We'd intended to go to Primark, but settled against it. Jess, Alaric, Nathan and Jules joined us to drink and watch Kung Fury, a Kickstarter-funded action movie on Netflix that's somehow only a half hour long. It's packed with stylized, video-game style action and homages to kung-fu movies, cop dramas, and the 1980s. We then played several rounds of Soccer Physics; Jennifer and I had the edge over the other couple, while Alaric and I dominated in the girls v. boys department. Emily came over too, and I retreated when they started to watch Avatar.

Old Man Noah

          One of my coworkers had some shirts printed and delivered in 45 minutes today, which is insane; the delivery guy was kind of a weirdo and we ended up talking about Iran. At home, I made a drawing of Maddie as a gift, though I only saved the portion showing her eyes. I packed up my unholy passionfruit vodka, Kahlua and wine, swung by Huntington for vanilla vodka, a six-pack of Big Wave and a Pumking, and then picked up orange juice at Giovanni's (the man himself was absent.) So provisioned, I went to Maddie's. Through a few rounds of purple and up & down the river, I talked to Shreya, Jaclyn, Jason, Kofi, Alex L, Mary, Elizabeth and Lucas, and was introduced to Fleur and Ganesh. I vaguely recall climbing into an Uber outside of her dorm and being spirited to Jennifer's, where I fell asleep rather quickly.
          Quotes of the day:
"The amount of passive aggressiveness that's about to go into that account..." - Emily C
"I wanna throw up!" - Maddie

Here Come the Pretzels

          The content I've been uploading via a Drupal editor is wildly inconsistent. Without exaggeration, the original author(s?) switched between 1-space and 2-space breaks between sentences every three sentences or so. It's maddening. Equally horrifying is the broken candy shelf in the vending machine. Everything else works, but there are rustlings of panic in the office.
          After work, I deleted country music from my computer and, with Alaric, watched the Rangers lose 2-1 to the Avalanche. That should have been a relatively secure two points. We smoked out of Galileo and watched Here Comes the Devil, a ferocious Mexican horror film from 2012. One critic wrote, "Is it a slasher flick? A creepy sexual morality tale? A revenge thriller? A 1970s throwback about Satanic possession and the breakdown of the family dynamic? Sure, let's just chuck all of that in there, add some blood spurtings and bare breasts, then see what sticks." I had a higher opinion of it than she did, though I agree that some more clarity (in one direction or the other) would solidify its power. I took a cold shower before bed.
          Quotes of the day:
"If you invented packing tape that didn't make noise, you'd be a billionaire." - David W
"I love elbow patches. Love 'em!" - Emily C

The First Stone

          I woke up, took a lukewarm shower and actually woke up. On the T, I ended up sitting near a bag lady. I christened her "Mabel" in my head. She reeked horribly, like something was rotting, and her voice was so scratchy, like a wool blanket left out in the cold. She was alternately laughing and crying, reading aloud from a Bible, ranting about Nat Turner, but mainly shrieking. Mabel reserved most of the screams for the conductor, addressing him as God through the intercom, though she also yelled at someone across from me. It was bracing, and also a reminder of the suffering deinstitutionalization has wrought in the United States. I spent the rest of the day at work getting frustrated over the hang time that internet advertisements create every time I try to load a webpage. (I can't adblock because some of my work involves looking for them.) Local newspaper websites are the worst, loaded up with banners and popups because print is dead. At home, I smoked and watched the first game between the Rangers and Islanders this season. It was tied 1-1 at the end of OT; in the shootout, old man Boyle deked Jaroslav Halak out of his pants and the puck bobbled away at the last second. We lost that second point, but the team is looking much better, much more competitive now. They always seem to get up for these rivalry games.
          Quotes of the day:
"Move this train, God! Move this train before I wish this driver the worst death... in the world." - Mabel
"God, you should have taken me out in Texas that day!" - Mabel
"You want to win this war? You'll need to kill yourself!" - Mabel
"We should be a first-class city like San Francisco, but we won't, until you fuckin' bitches get cleaned out of this city, tonight." - Mabel
"Toronto looking like Toronto..."- TV announcer, re: TOR's 1-6 blowout loss in Winnipeg

Broke the Mold

          The pricing report went quicker today, though I did have some Drupal work lined up as well. Highlights of the day: a pulled pork sandwich; a new, gentler, less fragrant masseuse for my last massage at work. After coming home and hyperventilating as I always do, I delivered pizza and ice cream to Jennifer while she did group work at Snell, then proceeded to the band office. [Ed. note: Sorry for any confusion between "the office", my co-op, and "the office", the band office in Curry. I'll probably keep doing that.] There, I hung out with Nathan, Clay, Maddie, Jules and Alaric, and Mary interviewed me for KKPsi. Jennifer came over as well, having finished for the day. The stoners among that group took a moment to smoke in the closet; they went in search of food and I went home to get my calendar in order. In a moment of supreme laziness, I took the Orange Line from Ruggles to Roxbury Crossing.
          Quotes of the day:
"Society tells me i cant eat pad thai in qdoba" - Maddie, via snapchat