Thursday, June 29, 2006

The Good Old Days

I just ate a small bag of Snyder's of Hanover Kosher Dill potato chips. They taste a lot like the buttermilk pretzel niblets I used to eat in Syracuse. Which leads me to believe that all of Snyder's old-fashioned products taste the same _ all using this company "allspice."

The next time you're enjoying Snyder's Cape Cod Oyster Chips, remember they taste the same as the Maine Lobster Pretzel Nubs. The Amish Country Hot Mustard Nuggets are exactly like the Winesburg Ohio Vinegar Potato Skins. The Muskegon Michigan Frog Legs Chips taste an awful lot like Little Cousin Abel's Yonkers Three-story Walkup Living Room Bar Mitzvah Pretzel Stix. The Snyder's Country Fair 1912 First Automobile in Town Local Economy Changing from Agriculture to Light Industry, Primarily Textiles Potato Squares remind one of the Penn-Yann Front Porch Doughboy Wilson Honus Wagner Teapot Dome Coolidge Sinclair Lewis. Right.

Brain-Blood Barrier Blues

Nothing like... the NBA Draft... a little anti-climactic, methinks (I think), with all of the trading the Bulls did, but I like the fire I've seen (I see) in Tyrus Thomas' eyes, because... as a couch-bound TV spectator, I've developed the ability to pick the winners based on five-second clips. It's a talent, folks.

Then... nothing like... drinking a few Miller Lites and stumbling around YouTube, looking for band videos. Found great moments from Go4, PiL, MC5, Can. Yes, it was fun. The rain came. I closed the windows. I went to the bed and eventually fell asleep.

Today... tonight? I don't know. We're going to a wedding in Cleveland (we are), this weekend. Going to see some old high school pals. Right. I'm hungry already. I've (I have) made a career as "The Lunchtime Blogger." You might've seen my profile on

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Asleep, Covered in Baguette Crumbs

The NBA draft is tonight. The Bulls have the 2nd and 16th picks. There is a large yellow couch in our living room. We have a radio.

A plan is forming.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

The Day of Rest

This is the summer of NO EXCUSES. The summer of the HARD WAY. Uh, the summer of... Summer's almost over. No, it's not, but it feels like it is. A cool 72 or so in Chicago. Hello there. Yes, we are back from our break. How did it go? The summer of NO EXCUSES. NO MORE BACKPED'LING. NO MORE OFF-THE-RECORD INTERVIEWS.

No one has ever interviewed us about this site. I'd like to keep it that way. Primarily because...

_ We accept no advertising money. Thus...
_ Allowing us to comment without hinderancesthesummerofNOMOREHANDOUTS.

You heard it here, folks. NO MORE DICEY BUSINESS VENTURES. Look at my investment sheet. Look at our investment line. Read this for me. Tell me how much I've thrown away already FY2006. NO MORE SEASONAL ACCOUNTANTS. Full-time. Yes. And...

All right. We didn't go to California (NO MORE MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS)
Woundup is a coward. Even with his little pills he couldn't do it. I'm not going to dwell on this, only that this site, its creator, its staff... can only hope to be better. That's called the summer of being through with all of Our Hangups. All right.

That isn't one word, by the way.

Good to talk to Ted, Tim (by internet), my mother and youngest brother, father-in-law today. And JR, who tipped me off about William Gaddis. The summer of the big books.

"I really want to read something big this summer. No more excuses. No more fluff. This is the summer of buckling down and..."

Good. Yes. Keep working, Chicago. Keeping on work. Focusing. Keeping off the scrap heap. Keeping on your medication. Playing for keeps. I always play for keeps. This site... its longtime administration, its many and varied staff of burnout writers... all ways plays for keeps. Yes.

Saturday, June 24, 2006

A Very Special Offer

Can you guess which post in the last month didn't live up to its potential. I know, but only because I spent 17 hours in the self-flagellation chamber after I posted it, so... rewrite the following post, make it better and I will reward you. Put your new version in the "comments" section below. Here it is...

"One of the host's (Blogspot's) "featured blogs" is "Sentence of the Day." Due to the slow server time, I was unable to load up "Sentence of the Day" _ leading me to wonder exactly what this WeBLoG covers.

My theory: a site for circuit court judges to post their favorite sentencings of the day.

"1500 hours of community service... mowing my front lawn! Haw!"
"20 years hard labor. He wasn't happy about that one."
"Life. No parole. Always a classic. Hey, where are we eating tonight, guys?"

Can't beat Guzman's Tacos. 2701 S. California. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT NOT TO SERVE ESCAPEES."

Friday, June 16, 2006

Fillin' Alotta Space is His Name

My Myspace ranks are swelling after I hit a vein of long-missed pals. Hey, hey, let's keep boosting those numbers.

All right... I'm lying. I did not find those long-missed pals on my own. I've hired Myspace consultants who _ they work in a little office here in Chicago _ I gave them a list of people I know. They do the rest.

All right... I'm lying. That last idea... the Myspace consultants? That was pretty good, right? A little above the usual level of writing here? Well, it was written for me by a ghostwriter. Ghost blog writers. In fact, I would say 90% of this WeBLoG is...

All right... I'm lying. That bit about the ghost blog writers... that was actually done by a random blog-generating program on a computer in Florida. There is a 4.35% chance that the machine would've written this type of post.

All right... I'm lying. There is no computer. There is no consulting service, and there's been a modest increase in my Myspace friend total. Modest.

All right... I'm lying. I'm three away from 100 friends. Yes, some of them are bands. Some are internet TV shows, but most are real people I know (have known) in my 29 years of sweet, precious life. I'm very, very excited as I approach this virtual milestone. Very, very excited.

All right... I'm lying. I'm not really excited. I've also run over the maximum character tota

Keep It

And he did... unto... did say... that he will be going. Soon. Unto... he will be goin on vacation. But to... do not unto... do not feareth. He will... he did say... he will bring... his computer... unto... do not... feareth. And he will... continue... unto... posting. From his vacation. He did say... unto... do not feareth.

(Applied Steel up 4 at 9:58 a.m. Sell at 10. Sell at 10:15. Hold at 5.5 or higher. Please call if rises above 7. MSD)

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

The Divided Self

*cough* *cough* now don't you listen to him. he's just angry about his... my freud book has a lot of reasons why... don't you listen to him... listen to me. i am - you see me there. at the side of the page. i'm in the pensioners' hospital. the debtors hospital. the bills can accumulate... not just... there are your utilities, and when you add medical expenses...

you listen to me. i'm very happy - we're very happy to be here. and... we have a lot of... wonderful memories. yes. i can remember them. memories. and when we walk into... certain places. it fills us. yes. with... feelings... *cough* i have to catch my...

they're going to be... the nuns... lunch should be here. you stay with me and have... i don't eat all of it. i don't need... have a little. the soup is good. a little salty at times. but generally very... and my roll. you can have that. oh, here they come. you stay here and don't listen to him... he's out late at night. drinking and cursing at parked cars. have my crackers. i'm not allowed to eat them... SISTER IS MY LUNCH... thank you.

Mr. Outlaster

Nothing like some visualization exercises followed by a pint of San Fran's finest. Hey, remember the Rainbo? I have a vague nostalgia for the place, tho I really shouldn't bother. I don't know... I enjoyed going with Erika, so I have an affinity for the remembrance of some such things past. Memories of what my wife and I used to do. So when we go back. It is... but the other people. Remember that guy that never talked to me? Oh yeah, I miss that guy. Fuck this city... there I said it. I could walk into a bar in New York and... Chicago, you are second-rate, you are... yes, we've heard this WarnedUp.

Twice. TWICE, yesterday. I got the... TWICE. The... someone-knows-my-wife-we-are-walking-together-someone-says-hi-to-Erika-and-carries-on-a-conversation-without-acknowledging-that-I-am-there. That's what I miss about Chicago 2003. I miss that. 2003. You little fairies... second rate. Give me a reason we shouldn't lobby for leaving this place. Twice. How does it feel? You know... but the sandman... he doesn't look with pity on you, baby. Warned up. Where will you be? In five years? Peddling your 21-year-old t-shirt. Behind the sunglasses. Wrinkles.


Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Victory Thru Brain Chemistry

Hello to all the new readers, particularly the one in Korea. Maybe it's my old freshman year roommate. Last I heard, he was stuck at the 54th (56th, 61st?) parallel guarding sweet Seoul from the Red Menace (c).

You're all here now... "all" makes it sound bigger than it is, but there are some of you that read this, so...

I'll be (trying) to go on a (real) vacation starting Saturday with Erika. We have a California trip planned. I've never been to the Republic of California... often thinking my life would begin and end somewhere around Oak Lawn, Ill. (or the Stickley furniture factory in Syracuse)... Oak Lawn, not a bad place to kick the bucket... but, I am extremely afraid of flying, so much so that it's driven me back into the arms of an old friend... an old, little, canary colored friend I used to date back in the mid-to-late 90's. I took one last night, we'll see if it can pierce the web... that's not... pierce anxiety's armor. There.

Once we arrive... I'm looking forward to that. Yes. So... keep your fingers crossed for me. All right? Oh, I'll be here till Friday, but then... it's a big fucking Woundup break. So get over it. I'm not always going to be around, folks. Especially when that book deal kicks in. My ass will be gone before you get your hands around your first to-go coffee of the day. And I won't feel sorry. Believe it.

Now do you want the plane to crash? Ah... this is called "Reverse Spiritual Reflection" or "Diffuse Negation Swingback." The more you hate me, the safer I'll be. No... there's no such thing. Just wish me a safe trip.

Friday, June 09, 2006

You've Kommt a Long Way, Liebchen

It's a day early, but tommorow is the weekend, so... let's congratulate Woundup for four years on the job at the cracker factory. Celebration _ no, we've been "celebrating" too much around here lately. Let's keep it silent, internal... yes.

Significant Woundup stats for time covering June 10, 2002 - June 10, 2006:

_ Bathroom breaks: 3,458
_ Bags of Lays Cheddar 'n Sour Cream chips consumed: 799
_ Meandering trips around the block of 600 W. Madison: 437
_ Woundup life minutes wasted listening to flacks on phone: 860,000

Keep up the good work, Schtutze!

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Complete Sentences


I think Blogspot is the one in the debtor's hospital with a nagging cough. Gee whiz...

One of the host's "featured blogs" is "Sentence of the Day." Due to the slow server time, I was unable to load up "Sentence of the Day" _ leading me to wonder exactly what this WeBLoG covers.

My theory: a site for circuit court judges to post their favorite sentencings of the day.

"1500 hours of community service... mowing my front lawn! Haw!"
"20 years hard labor. He wasn't happy about that one."
"Life. No parole. Always a classic. Hey, where are we eating tonight, guys?"

Can't beat Guzman's Tacos. 2701 S. California. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT NOT TO SERVE ESCAPEES.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006


That's right... I'm going on vacation. Not a literal vacation. I'll still be here. Actually, we are taking a literal vacation the last two weeks of June, but this vacation, that I'm starting today, is different.

It seems everyone else is taking a vacation, too. A vacation from reality. A vacation from self-control. A vacation from decency, so I'll fit right in.

That picture (at right) is making more and more sense. I'll be convalescing, much like that fellow, in an elderly debtors hospital. At least that's what it looks like in my mind.

You can find me on our back porch, or in the backyard... or on the couch.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Recycled Yucks

Erika and I had a larf with ol' J. Stockton Saturday, trying to make our way to the "Printers Row" book fair in the South Loop. Trying. The parking _ there was no parking. Just a lot of guys in yellow reflective vests getting time-and-a-half.

The most important thing I learned Saturday, besides (insert Chicago second-rate city joke later), is that Stockton does the best Cheech and Chong I've ever heard, which prompted an idea in (my) head to promote him as the "One-Man 'Up In Smoke'" _ a la the one-man Star Wars, Shakespeare, etc. etc. Hearing is believing, folks.

All of these jokes happened... also, the police detail for the book fair _ a real suicide mission. Particularly 1200 S. Dearborn _ the first editions tent _ known as the "meat grinder." That is not time-and-a-half.

Fun for the WholeFamily

Whenever it seems I'm ready and rarin' to go on this thing, Blogspot becomes unbearably slow. Huh... conspir--no, let's not go that far.

I'm about to polish off a large chunk of writing, so I'm giving myself a week off starting Wednesday night. Like it when I crow about myself? That's why you come back. Even thru this long content drought, my sitecounter technology says you keep coming back. What do you want from me, anyway?

It's really... gone south since, longtime provider of this site's profile picture, went off-line. The current picture is from a popular Italian film, but I don't like it.

Checking the minutes here... yes, I did watch the last two Chicago Rush arena football games. They're going to the ArenaBowl. A popular tactic of minor league teams, I've noticed, is to combine two proper nouns while keeping capitalization: IceHogs, SaberCats, ArenaBowl. That kind of disregard for proper grammar screams "Fun for the whole family!"

Friday, June 02, 2006

His Master's Voice

Friday. Friday night. This is the Friday night WeBLoG. Friday night, as in, Friday doing nothing. Doing something, but nothing of note. Doing nothing of note, and not minding.

Erika and I took a walk thru the Woundup Neighborhood yesterday evening. Western Ave. Chicago Ave. The perfect temperature. The patio. And tonight... Friday night. The windows will be open.

("A former Playboy model is in the family way..." just said on ABC 7 11 a.m. news. Joe Orton, where are you?)