Jeff Phillips's Blog, page 12
October 7, 2011
Liquid Dreamy
One could say I had a wet dream last night. Not the pervy kind, no. I was boarded up in a cabin with a wailing hurricane outside. Couldn't run to the outside, so I had to pee in a metal pale. Unfortunately it splashed up and out onto the floor and I had to do some serious cleaning. Luckily I actually didn't pee in my sleep. Which is wonderful. When I was young kid I would sometimes have a "bedtime issue" and wet the bed here and there up until 7 or 8 years old. I'm not usually forthcoming with such personal history, as it's certainly embarrassing. Around the age of 7 my parents tried out a "wet alarm" in my bedding to alert me to any liquid setting it off. I would usually sleep through it. Which was most likely the problem. I was such a heavy sleeper in my younger days that my body wouldn't awake when it had to pee. The shame I would feel from this eventually turned me into a light sleeper, and ever since those early days my body isn't shy about pulling me from my slumber when piss calls. Yet every now and then I can feel myself peeing in my dreams, and I freak for a moment when I awake later and remember such a dream fragment. I feel around the bed spreading for any dampness yet am relieved at the dry touch. And I find this strange. Doesn't urban legend say that if you pee in your sleep it tells your mind to pee in reality? I ain't complaining. I'm okay with peeing in my dream world as long as this physical disconnect is maintained.
There was such a weird shame that I totally forgot about until I pondered this now. I can recall a sleep-over at friend's where I wound up wetting my sleeping bag. The next morning his dad took it upon himself to roll up my sleeping bag and he called me out on the fact that it was wet. I clammed up. He must have sensed but covered up any accusations of pissing and asked me if I had spilled anything. I said I got up for a glass of water and bumped it later in the night. One time my brother's friend Mike was in my bedroom and curiosity poked him to peel the masking tape I had over the label of my "wet alarm" to cover up what it was to any visitors. So it could appear as some weird alarm clock without time reading on it. He asked me what was up with this wet alarm. I told him it was in place because I had a spilling problem with knocking water onto my bed and it was to alert me when I did this. Ha! Spilling problem. What bullshit I had spouted. Turns out later in high school I did have a spilling problem for a short time and spilled beverages by pure accident on friends 3 times within a week. Turns out I don't have very good control over my body.
My most embarrassing moment of bed wetting was playing house with a neighbor girl and we crawled into my bed together to play husband and wife at nighttime. I had forgot to tell my mom about my little bladder mishap, so we hadn't changed the sheets yet, and it was very wet. This neighbor girl was grossed out and asked, more less shrieked, why was it so wet! I told her I sweated a lot the night before. I think I got away with that cover up. This was after all in the thick of summer.
For shame, for shame. I remember feeling such shame at this and tried confessing to a friend through a joke about wetting the bed. He took it as a joke, and joked further, making me feel even more fearful of coming clean and clarifying the truth behind the joke.
The good news is I haven't wet the bed in 20 some years. And because of this I feel okay mentioning in a blog about this little soggy past of mine. I'm sure the suppressed embarrassment has affected my confidence in subconscious ways. It is time I come forth and acknowledge this dirty gem of personal history, let go of it, laugh it off, and grow up/gear up from the coming of my 30s in 2013.
There was such a weird shame that I totally forgot about until I pondered this now. I can recall a sleep-over at friend's where I wound up wetting my sleeping bag. The next morning his dad took it upon himself to roll up my sleeping bag and he called me out on the fact that it was wet. I clammed up. He must have sensed but covered up any accusations of pissing and asked me if I had spilled anything. I said I got up for a glass of water and bumped it later in the night. One time my brother's friend Mike was in my bedroom and curiosity poked him to peel the masking tape I had over the label of my "wet alarm" to cover up what it was to any visitors. So it could appear as some weird alarm clock without time reading on it. He asked me what was up with this wet alarm. I told him it was in place because I had a spilling problem with knocking water onto my bed and it was to alert me when I did this. Ha! Spilling problem. What bullshit I had spouted. Turns out later in high school I did have a spilling problem for a short time and spilled beverages by pure accident on friends 3 times within a week. Turns out I don't have very good control over my body.
My most embarrassing moment of bed wetting was playing house with a neighbor girl and we crawled into my bed together to play husband and wife at nighttime. I had forgot to tell my mom about my little bladder mishap, so we hadn't changed the sheets yet, and it was very wet. This neighbor girl was grossed out and asked, more less shrieked, why was it so wet! I told her I sweated a lot the night before. I think I got away with that cover up. This was after all in the thick of summer.
For shame, for shame. I remember feeling such shame at this and tried confessing to a friend through a joke about wetting the bed. He took it as a joke, and joked further, making me feel even more fearful of coming clean and clarifying the truth behind the joke.
The good news is I haven't wet the bed in 20 some years. And because of this I feel okay mentioning in a blog about this little soggy past of mine. I'm sure the suppressed embarrassment has affected my confidence in subconscious ways. It is time I come forth and acknowledge this dirty gem of personal history, let go of it, laugh it off, and grow up/gear up from the coming of my 30s in 2013.
October 6, 2011
Harsh Words
If you read my post about "Noise Complacency" you'll remember it seems I've made enemies with my downstairs neighbor by being reasonable. Looks like the dude is moving out. When I arrived home yesterday he and a buddy were carrying a couch down the front stoop. He glared at me with red, burning, murderous eyes and called me a "nazi ass mother fucker." I started to speak, to defend myself some, and he continued "yeah, you and your bitch ass wife." Referring to my girlfriend.
It was exciting to later in the evening drive off in his U-haul. Never have a felt such wrath for asking a person politely to turn down the music some. I'm such a party pooper, how do I live with myself? How do I sleep at night being a nazi ass mother fucker? So why would loud bass affect my slumber?
At least I have a bitch ass wife to console me.
I have a paranoia this bald headed, red eyed, bearded rager will sneak back some night to murder me. If that ever happens my ghost will really ruin his party. Part of life is making enemies. I've finally become successful in one of life's endeavors.
It was exciting to later in the evening drive off in his U-haul. Never have a felt such wrath for asking a person politely to turn down the music some. I'm such a party pooper, how do I live with myself? How do I sleep at night being a nazi ass mother fucker? So why would loud bass affect my slumber?
At least I have a bitch ass wife to console me.
I have a paranoia this bald headed, red eyed, bearded rager will sneak back some night to murder me. If that ever happens my ghost will really ruin his party. Part of life is making enemies. I've finally become successful in one of life's endeavors.
October 5, 2011
Dub Step Father
If you're familiar with dubstep you may find yourself amused, and even cracking a giggle or two. Yet another adapted stage sketch by us Wood Sugars to video. We've been having a ball with Eliaz's new camera.
October 4, 2011
Attack of the Groomzilla
A new video based on one of the Wood Sugars sketches we've been doing over the summer. With some new elements.
September 28, 2011
Jokesmith Juggernauts
This show is Friday. Chicago Comedy at it's finest. Free show. Brilliance. I will be performing in it. And co-producing.
More info at WoodSugars.com
More info at WoodSugars.com
September 27, 2011
Noise Complacency
Oy oy. Here comes a mildly passive aggressive post.
Our new neighbors below are in their own little noisy world. Loud music will emerge at 2am, 3am, 5am, etc. We've gone down and asked them politely if they could turn it down. And we're greeted with a bunch of stoned, befuddled dudes who say they'll take care of it. The thing is a girl lives there and we've yet to see more than slight glimpses of her in the hallway or poking her head out of her room. She sends her dudes to do her bidding and answer the door. The queen bee she is.
The other weekend we went down during the late Sunday afternoon to have a cordial conversation with the girl about the trend in late night noises. We could hear her and friends there in the front living room. We knocked loud enough but they did not answer.
Last night we were awoken at 2am to loud bass thumping beneath our head. I tried ear plugs. It didn't work. My girlfriend was quick to get up and go down to ask them to lower the volume. She went down through the back sun porch area. A dude stoned out of his mind took a good minute to realize she was addressing him. Some other dudes were in the kitchen arguing loudly about who loved the song that was playing more. She finally got through, the dudes were confused, and the elusive girl tenant could be seen walking down the hall, into the bedroom, and the music was lowered. Not two minutes after my girlfriend came back up the music was back to booming. Down we went again. The mocked us that we were just down there. After we came back up we could obviously raised voices proclaiming that we must be "Iowa. No, no, I wouldn't give them the decency of being from Iowa, they must be from Nebraska! Where do you find these people?!! It's my birthday!!!! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!" The taunting continued from these belligerent dudes. I called the police. Then I heard more belligerence from the back sun porch area "what's wrong with 4 guys drinking Coors Light. Oooo. Scary! Who the fuck calls the police!" Well, we, sir, call the police when you are incapable of being reasoned with. My adrenaline was rushing. I had to hold myself back from running with the "fight" response that was brewing. I finally drifted off to a quick dream where one of the dudes was down there celebrating Christmas with his parents in October. He got a new electric guitar with a swiveling neck to do some serious bending riffs.
As far as we know, and as far the landlord knows, it's one girl that lives there. I'm pretty sure these dudes are her hipster, unemployed friends crashing at her pad, looking for a constant party. Because they oh so represent the freedom of this generation. I wish them the very worst hangover of their lives this morning. The kind that aches the bones and laps nausea through every cell, sucking it dry. The thing is I understand a little noise. That's not necessarily the problem. Well it is in redundant trend. But the outright mockery and disrespect of us like were that lame old couple killing the party on the block pissed me the #$%^ off. We've tried being good guys, reasonable, flexible, and their behavior is now forcing some new tactics of serious confrontation on our part. In all honesty this is one of the reasons we left Wrigleyville, to get away from this douchebaggery.
But this all reminds me of a time when I had just turned 21 and my roommate and I would often drink to the point of obnoxious revelry and we often roused the wrath of our upstairs neighbor who was a flight attendant. We always viewed her as being this big old bitch. The red headed bitch is what we referred to her as. But really, especially now with the perspective of being in the working world and having to get up in the mornings, we were in the wrong. We were the little bitches. There's this tendency among the loud and drunk to cast aspersions on whomever asks them to quiet down as though they are utter bitches and assholes.
There is a point of view on everything.
In my senior in college one of my roommates would often bring back a bunch of buddies from the bar at 4am. I would awake and have to pee. But after a couple of times stepping out and dealing with these fellas, and the bathroom lines, I took too pissing in a Vitamin Water bottle lying on the floor, capping, and disposing of in the morning. I would try to stock pile empties. If lacked any, I would exit the back door of my room which led out to the garage and little driveway below the train tracks to piss away. I did this because I wanted to avoid very unreasonable people and did not want to continually step out into the sudden and be launched into the appearance of a grumpy, party-pooping nerd. Even if I was only getting up to pee. My groggy eyes were all too telling of a presence at the mid week party.
There's this tendency among the loud and drunk to cast aspersions on whomever asks them to quiet down as though they are utter bitches and assholes. And I feel bad that I had ever once adopted such an opinion.
Our new neighbors below are in their own little noisy world. Loud music will emerge at 2am, 3am, 5am, etc. We've gone down and asked them politely if they could turn it down. And we're greeted with a bunch of stoned, befuddled dudes who say they'll take care of it. The thing is a girl lives there and we've yet to see more than slight glimpses of her in the hallway or poking her head out of her room. She sends her dudes to do her bidding and answer the door. The queen bee she is.
The other weekend we went down during the late Sunday afternoon to have a cordial conversation with the girl about the trend in late night noises. We could hear her and friends there in the front living room. We knocked loud enough but they did not answer.
Last night we were awoken at 2am to loud bass thumping beneath our head. I tried ear plugs. It didn't work. My girlfriend was quick to get up and go down to ask them to lower the volume. She went down through the back sun porch area. A dude stoned out of his mind took a good minute to realize she was addressing him. Some other dudes were in the kitchen arguing loudly about who loved the song that was playing more. She finally got through, the dudes were confused, and the elusive girl tenant could be seen walking down the hall, into the bedroom, and the music was lowered. Not two minutes after my girlfriend came back up the music was back to booming. Down we went again. The mocked us that we were just down there. After we came back up we could obviously raised voices proclaiming that we must be "Iowa. No, no, I wouldn't give them the decency of being from Iowa, they must be from Nebraska! Where do you find these people?!! It's my birthday!!!! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!" The taunting continued from these belligerent dudes. I called the police. Then I heard more belligerence from the back sun porch area "what's wrong with 4 guys drinking Coors Light. Oooo. Scary! Who the fuck calls the police!" Well, we, sir, call the police when you are incapable of being reasoned with. My adrenaline was rushing. I had to hold myself back from running with the "fight" response that was brewing. I finally drifted off to a quick dream where one of the dudes was down there celebrating Christmas with his parents in October. He got a new electric guitar with a swiveling neck to do some serious bending riffs.
As far as we know, and as far the landlord knows, it's one girl that lives there. I'm pretty sure these dudes are her hipster, unemployed friends crashing at her pad, looking for a constant party. Because they oh so represent the freedom of this generation. I wish them the very worst hangover of their lives this morning. The kind that aches the bones and laps nausea through every cell, sucking it dry. The thing is I understand a little noise. That's not necessarily the problem. Well it is in redundant trend. But the outright mockery and disrespect of us like were that lame old couple killing the party on the block pissed me the #$%^ off. We've tried being good guys, reasonable, flexible, and their behavior is now forcing some new tactics of serious confrontation on our part. In all honesty this is one of the reasons we left Wrigleyville, to get away from this douchebaggery.
But this all reminds me of a time when I had just turned 21 and my roommate and I would often drink to the point of obnoxious revelry and we often roused the wrath of our upstairs neighbor who was a flight attendant. We always viewed her as being this big old bitch. The red headed bitch is what we referred to her as. But really, especially now with the perspective of being in the working world and having to get up in the mornings, we were in the wrong. We were the little bitches. There's this tendency among the loud and drunk to cast aspersions on whomever asks them to quiet down as though they are utter bitches and assholes.
There is a point of view on everything.
In my senior in college one of my roommates would often bring back a bunch of buddies from the bar at 4am. I would awake and have to pee. But after a couple of times stepping out and dealing with these fellas, and the bathroom lines, I took too pissing in a Vitamin Water bottle lying on the floor, capping, and disposing of in the morning. I would try to stock pile empties. If lacked any, I would exit the back door of my room which led out to the garage and little driveway below the train tracks to piss away. I did this because I wanted to avoid very unreasonable people and did not want to continually step out into the sudden and be launched into the appearance of a grumpy, party-pooping nerd. Even if I was only getting up to pee. My groggy eyes were all too telling of a presence at the mid week party.
There's this tendency among the loud and drunk to cast aspersions on whomever asks them to quiet down as though they are utter bitches and assholes. And I feel bad that I had ever once adopted such an opinion.
September 26, 2011
Feigned Ghost
We recently moved into a new apartment on the cusp of Logan Square and Avondale. The building I live in has been around since 1907, rehabbed in 1999 with all of the original wood work. As a ghost enthusiast I was half hoping it would be haunted with friendly spirits. But didn't experience anything. Friends of mine at my house warming party tried to convince me they thought it was haunted. They kept hearing some creaking. But you know, old buildings shift and settle with movement. Easily debunked.
Until lately...I was mighty hung over last sunday and my eyes were playing tricks on me as they were adjusting to the dark at bedtime. I thought I saw some vapor drift into the room and hover over me as I drifted quickly off to sleep.
I woke up Monday morning and thought I heard an old lady's voice in my room but my girlfriend was in the shower. Maybe it was just a deflected murmur from the floor below.
We've been seeing shadow cats. Movements of shadow playing, like "Shadow People", but of cats. We've been feeling an animal jump up on the bed but find that our cat is still licking itself in the other room.
Coming back from putting my laundry in the dryer I assumed my girlfriend was still taking a nap in the bedroom. I had to use the lavatory so walked right up to it and opened the door. Heard a quick startled moan and saw a lady sitting there on the john...
It was my girlfriend. She had got up from her nap. Yet my heart was still beating the fuck out of my chest as I had bee-Jesus out my barrel chested body hive. And so there really is no tangible phantom happening here. Just mind playing tricks. The grass is greener on the other side. Actually having a ghost would most likely be bothersome.
Until lately...I was mighty hung over last sunday and my eyes were playing tricks on me as they were adjusting to the dark at bedtime. I thought I saw some vapor drift into the room and hover over me as I drifted quickly off to sleep.
I woke up Monday morning and thought I heard an old lady's voice in my room but my girlfriend was in the shower. Maybe it was just a deflected murmur from the floor below.
We've been seeing shadow cats. Movements of shadow playing, like "Shadow People", but of cats. We've been feeling an animal jump up on the bed but find that our cat is still licking itself in the other room.
Coming back from putting my laundry in the dryer I assumed my girlfriend was still taking a nap in the bedroom. I had to use the lavatory so walked right up to it and opened the door. Heard a quick startled moan and saw a lady sitting there on the john...
It was my girlfriend. She had got up from her nap. Yet my heart was still beating the fuck out of my chest as I had bee-Jesus out my barrel chested body hive. And so there really is no tangible phantom happening here. Just mind playing tricks. The grass is greener on the other side. Actually having a ghost would most likely be bothersome.
September 24, 2011
RPG of a Post World Order
Yesterday during my commute home from work I smelled smoke. I thought perhaps a building was on a fire and I look around yet saw no plumes. Must have been a barbeque. Down I went into the subterraneae of the subway and waited for Blue Line at Chicago. It arrived, for once there was room on a rush hour train and I got on the train. Then the smell of an electrical fire became an intense stimuli to everyone and the the conductor announced for everyone to get off of the train. A mass of people streamed out into the gathering smoke and up we went, unhappy, gasping, a hipster had a hissy fit, and we all split into different groups waiting at the nearest bus stop. I called my girlfriend and luckily caught her during her drive home and convinced her to pick me up. Whenever I read about Congress not getting along, and European debt problems, I feel a pseudo glee that the status quo of the money world is going to be disrupted and we will be living in a world similar to the post apocalyptic RPGs of our childhood. There's something exciting in that right? Something dangerous. Something fresh for all of us. Because then an IPO will not have any more power than an animal or a volcano. But then I think about my cat. Transporting him from tent town to tent town in the woods would certainly rouse panic beneath his soft fur. Desperate, hungry people might try to eat him. I'd try my best to protect him, to make him understand and to talk strategy with him. He might become curious of the outdoors and get lost, scratching his way out of the canvas sheathe at our camp. Then the fantasy becomes less a game and the dire concerns that come with fatherhood to any degree are churned. I still can't believe no one has found a real solution to the economy. Perhaps if we laid it all out, all of the criss-crossed problems of world community, into and RPG game and gave it to an enthusiastic fat kid to play all day we would come out the better, into the bright euphoria of a successful revolution. 
September 20, 2011
A Stick in the Mouth
I've seen a lot of dogs as of late trotting around with sticks in their mouth. Many different dogs. I likes seeing the psyched quality in their eyes. They truly like their possession. It makes me happy to see the ease and joyful step the stick stimulates.
Yesterday a colleague told me about a bleeding injury they had. I tried to be charismatic and listen and make him feel important but the detail made me shudder and squirm a bit on the inner. It made me think about what my blood may have been doing in and around my liver the morning prior after an evening of Bushmills and a variety of beers.
I read article yesterday in the Washington Post about the economic ramifications if everyone quit smoking. The drop in revenue from cigarette excise tax would wreck state governments. But perhaps would trigger growth in other industries as serious smokers would have ten to twenty extra bucks in the wallet daily, and most likely with an increased appetite. Restauranteers would smile and count their blessings. People that get on buses with their cigarette butts stubbed out still stink up the place even though it's not smoldering smoke. I wish they would stop, but I'm not very ballsy in picking fights on such a thing.
Yesterday a colleague told me about a bleeding injury they had. I tried to be charismatic and listen and make him feel important but the detail made me shudder and squirm a bit on the inner. It made me think about what my blood may have been doing in and around my liver the morning prior after an evening of Bushmills and a variety of beers.
I read article yesterday in the Washington Post about the economic ramifications if everyone quit smoking. The drop in revenue from cigarette excise tax would wreck state governments. But perhaps would trigger growth in other industries as serious smokers would have ten to twenty extra bucks in the wallet daily, and most likely with an increased appetite. Restauranteers would smile and count their blessings. People that get on buses with their cigarette butts stubbed out still stink up the place even though it's not smoldering smoke. I wish they would stop, but I'm not very ballsy in picking fights on such a thing.
September 16, 2011
Two Suns, Double Daytime
I read this article yesterday about a planet that orbits two stars. I felt a quick wooshy de-ja-vu type feeling when I imagined what it would be like to experience the throws and refractions of light on that planet's sky from the rays of two suns. What would evening be like, where in our experience, light fades the horizon. But what if light faded back cancelling out that spread of dusk. The contrast of darkness when rotated on the dark side of two suns must be a harsh contrast, like an angry desert that bites the the marrow with chilly.
Sunscreen won't help you here during double day time. I hope their ozone is in good shape and every industry there went green a long long time ago.
I had another space dream last night. The view of Earth was refreshing. Dark cool blue, on the dark side of the planet. Quiet. I floated. A good dream to have.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/16/science/space/16planet.html?_r=1&src=ISMR_AP_LO_MST_FB
Sunscreen won't help you here during double day time. I hope their ozone is in good shape and every industry there went green a long long time ago.
I had another space dream last night. The view of Earth was refreshing. Dark cool blue, on the dark side of the planet. Quiet. I floated. A good dream to have.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/16/science/space/16planet.html?_r=1&src=ISMR_AP_LO_MST_FB
