I woke up in a strange place

By Marc Heiden, since 1997.
See also: a novel about a monkey.

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May 17, 1998

post-finals edition, such as it is. it was probably my least stressful yet, since most of my classes opted for an inhuman barrage of writing due in the last week (80 pages in the space of a weekend!) instead of the increasingly tiresome ritual of essay exams. so, no concerns. pretty good grades all around, I think, although a surefire 4.0 has probably been ruined by deficient attendance. (which seems rather contradictory, doesn't it? class is there to help to attain proficiency in the material. if I demonstrated proficiency with the material at a perfect level, what does it matter if I was in class or not?) scholastic apathy having set in after last year's failed escape attempt, it was just another semester, academically. metaphysically it was an EXTRAVAGANZA!, a word that is as fun to type as it is to say in a booming voice on the radio.

so I haven't got any real reflections because nothing worth reflecting upon is ending. instead, in the ever-now:

everyone's leaving town. I'm permanently based here in champaign now, so no movement for me. my apartment building is, as far as I can tell, abandoned (I can't imagine that these places are easy to sublet). even slug is gone. I can't believe that our time together is over. he borrowed a staple on the last day. bye, slug. you've been an ideal neighbor - permissive of my loud music while supplying none of your own, just confusing enough to make me wonder what the heck you were up to but not annoying. big and hairy but never big and hairy and naked. here's to you, slug.

surely it's not just my non-carnivorous self that finds that McDonald's tie-in commercial with Disney's Animal Kingdrom a little disturbing? you know, where the family cheerfully intersperses animal noises with hearty chomps upon ribs (shot in close-up, natch)? "do a giraffe!" "mmm, that's a good sandwich!" someone, tell me it's not just me...

I left a message applying for a ten day job cleaning apartments on campus. it's not quite the same as a seat upon the stool at record service or that's rentertainment, but I never did get around to asking them (which does not excuse them from failing to seek me out, mind you). permanent employment will be sought out...oh, I don't know, eventually...

orbital ("the kitten without fear, explanation, or restriction by gravity") had a respiratory infection which healed and then got bad again in the other eye and seems to have mostly healed again. he blames his tail for the whole thing. his tail could not be reached for comment.

season finale of the Simpsons was excellent, I thought.

picked this up awhile ago, thought some of you might like to see it if you haven't already - the Kevin Smith "superman lives" script that warner brothers apparently liked but decided to scrap when Tim Burton was hired (a project which is now in limbo). the smith script got a lot of highly positive word of mouth from the geek community, so you can judge for yourself the degree to which it's a tragedy that it didn't get made. personally? I like Kevin Smith a lot and have for a long time but this script really just isn't very good. it's obviously written from a fan's perspective - which is good - but the dialogue is just a little too stiff, cliched in several places, and the pacing is poor as well. it just doesn't work for me. wish it did.

I tried to blow up my stereo by unleashing an unholy amount of brand new good music upon it in one day. new massive attack, garbage, and a one-week delayed tori amos. it survived but is feeling wobbly. orbital's tail is also believed to be responsible for this.

I'm working on new stuff for the webpage. midway through, though, the mood zipped off for a zesty jaunt in kankakee so I decided to just get on with it and upload what I have.

there was a tornado out in the area last week. I wrote an update during the storm but it was strangely flat and uninspired so instead I ditched it and went outside, hoping to embrace the tornado with open arms but finding only a slushy at the gas station.

ain't that just the way, though?

I woke up in a strange place is the work of Marc Heiden, born in 1978, author of two books (Chicago, Hiroshima) and some plays, and an occasional photographer.

Often discussed:

Antarctica, Beelzetron, Books, Chicago, College, Communism, Food, Internet, Japan, Manute Bol, Monkeys and Apes, North Korea, Oregon Trail, Outer Space, Panda Porn, Politics, RabbiTech, Shakespeare, Sports, Texas.


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Written by Marc Heiden, 1997-2011.