Jeff Phillips's Blog, page 16

Maybe that Creep's the Most Hated Man on the Bus?

On the bus ride home, I had my big headphones on, so I couldn't quite hear the commotion, but I noticed a lady raise her arms like "what the fuck" and glare in the direction of the back of the bus. It looked like those pointed daggers emanating from her eyes were ripping right through a man with black mustache, trench coat, and private eye hat on. He wasn't paying any attention to her and I couldn't tell if it was a shameful avoidance or if he was just not involved in the young lady's angst. He did look like a creep, and I thought maybe he had done something creepy to her, because the lady said "why would you do that?" Still he wasn't responding to her. "You're the most hated man on this bus," she continued. Room opened up at the rear and I moved back to make room at the front. I drifted away from the odd, indistinct confrontation going on. But I thought about it a little more while I was at the back of the bus, only because it was so mysterious, and the young lady had a lot of anger in her at something, and I really was curious what the fuck that creepy, mustachioed, trench coated fellow had done to her. Then I thought maybe he had done nothing at all and the young lady was directing her distaste toward the rear exit. Maybe somebody had pushed the flappy doors when a stop wasn't requested and the doors released, causing the doors to beep an error and remain ajar, preventing the bus from resuming motion until fixed. This would cause a delay in motion. Now, I didn't see this happen, but it made sense in my head as a possibility for pissing this young lady off, because I have seen things like this happen before. An oblivious person pushes against the rear door when the green light above is not lit (meaning go ahead and push) delaying anxious commuters from getting home and eating supper and finally unwinding from a dulling day at the office. If this is the case, I can kind of understand her utterance of "you're the most hated man on this bus," because, well, I think I've thought that before in such a scenario. A motherfucker just wants to get home. And anyone getting in the way of said operation is a bit of an enemy. And that poor creep, for a second there I saw the worst in him.

The Blackest of Clouds

I find I probably feel the most relaxed when weather is ominous. This morning some dark thunderclouds rolled and walking into work with rain percolating more aggressively with each step, clutching and protecting my travel mug of coffee, I suddenly felt very excited for the day. I've always loved those days of summer, when you sit at the beach all day, beautiful sunny blue sky, not even a cloud for awhile, and a dark black cumulonimbus comes plowing from the horizon and you hurriedly gather your towels and beach toys to get out from it's wrath in the nick of time. It's beautiful.
I think the "relaxing element" comes from both a perk in adrenaline, the caveman in us becomes alive, senses more astute than the normal hour as the elements are banging away, and the subconscious possibility that this earthshaking storm could be the end of the times, or least a destructive barrier in the day's agenda. This sort of washes away worries for me. A sense that whatever I have been sweating out in my mind, has little power over anything, compared with what is physically going on around me.

Effing Munday

Working and sticking with a sales job is probably comparable to having a gambling addiction.
On my way home I stopped by the drug store to pick up Oreo cookies and a new tooth brush. I realized the irony ahead of time and committed to it.
Also, my book Turban Tan told me to tell you it would like a place on your bookshelf, and soon after, in your imagination: http://amzn.com/1449918026.

The Diarrhea of Writing

I came across this clip of Chuck Palahniuk talking about writer's constipation which enjoyed listening to and identified with. I do love those moments of writing when you burst down to your laptop or a pad of paper and do just have to fucking write.

One of the first vivid experiences I had with that involved this old piece of spontaneous prose (http://theigloooven.blogspot.com/2008/02/lagoon-of-serious-dementia.html). I was suddenly compelled to get off the bus early, because I had language popping up in my head that I just just had to write down. So I found the only free piece of paper I had in my bag, a Chinese take out menu, and started scribbling on it against a newspaper box. This language was coming out of nowhere, as though my subconscious possessed me, came pouring out like diarrhea. That's when I knew I wanted to explore this writer thing more.

Sorry, Wrong Rapture!

I'm pretty excited that I survived the rapture yesterday, or more accurately that the rapture did not happen after all. I quite forgot about it to tell the truth, but 5pm rolled around with no hiccups. This is the second time that Pastor Harold Camping of Family Radio Worldwide has predicted wrong. He originally spoke of the rapture taking place Sept. 6th 2005, but when that did not pan out he claimed he miscalculated, and then recalculated.
I'm curious though, how would any congregation trust a Pastor's word again after two wrong passionate predictions? I mean, yeah he goofed up about his prediction of the coming of the end of the world, had his people amped up and full of conviction about this happening. What a goddamn let down!
I had started reading The God Complex by Richard Dawkins around this time last year. It was thought provoking to say the least, and I only made it half way through before I had to take a break for several reasons. It certainly put the existence of God into question, as well as the spirit, and I found that I'm happier when I maintain a slight feeling of mysticism in my life, helps soften depression, anxiety, stress, for me at least. Especially at the time I was transitioning to a sales job, hearing no every day, pondering if there is no God was not what I needed at the time. I was also reading this book on the bus, and many people would try and get into religious conversations with me at 7:30 in the morning when they looked over and saw me reading it. Also not the time of day where I'm open to talking about God and heaven with strangers.
But religion, to some degree or another, does ultimately make a lot of people wrong. We'll find out some day in more specifics that many aspects of belief were actually wrong, and the wrong convictions triggered behaviors in some that were very wrong. Not just predictions about the end of the world, but persecutions both on small personal scales and massive warmonger scales.
Here is a short improvised film we did at Wood Sugars a few months back in which rapture is mentioned. Do enjoy!

Turban Tan copies

I got some extra copies of my book Turban Tan for anyone willing to write me an amazon review or such. Hit me up at jeffphillips.thirdleave [at] gmail dot com if you're interested!

Negative Norm

I realize I tend to see the worst in things, under some circumstances. I was just taking a wizz. Above the toilet on a little mirrored edge my girlfriend had her blow dryer resting. It seemed a little too close to the edge, still plugged in. What if it fell into the toilet and the electricity traveled back up my pee stream and gave me a jolt down under?
I wouldn't be writing this.
But I am thankful that gravity wasn't too thirsty to pull that beast down before I noticed.
I will think positively on that.

The Tripping Point

Some say language developed after ancient, pre-historic tribes in Siberia took magic mushrooms. Can we in turn also trace the development of currency to this trippy incident? Territorial behavior is inherent in most if not all animals, but when we could start saying "mine" and drawing up contracts, the imaginary agreement on the value of ownership took on more weight. As words become symbols of cognitive gems, so does the coin become a bragging right - points of having.
That strange trip could have gone differently of course. It could have frozen man, in psychological stone, ice, shifting away that desire to share and to communicate a sudden and boundless vision...that in this sad turn, doesn't ripple. They grow apathetic, giving away all they got to the wolves because the coldness of the cerebral image makes them want to wither and have nothing to do with life, nothing worth holding onto.
Point is, all of our greed and backstabbing and talking obnoxiously out turn, is perhaps a more colorful course of events. Keeps you on your trippy toes.
The brain is like a wreck-less object in space. It's starts things that don't stop. Things so simple as moving from point A to point B, but is melting to become point Y and then some other point of a letter we're still working on conjuring up.

Gonna Save My Money Someday for Fine Eats

Last night we had dinner plans - my girlfriend's best friend's birthday dinner. So after work, and as the fog was rolling in as thick misty chunks at street level, we went up to Andersonville in Chicago and met up with her at a boutique where she was doing some birthday shopping prior to dinner festivities. A few other female friends of her's were there. My girlfriend asked her if her boyfriend was meeting us "here" or at the restaurant. She replied with neither, he was at home...we very quickly realized that it was supposed to be a "girls" night out, my girlfriend had only skimmed the invite and mentioned to me to plan on it for Thursday thinking it was a group outing. They were nice enough to let me tag along to eat, which was great as I was mighty hungry only having a light lunch. I did feel like a party crasher, and felt bad for impeding on girl's night, but it also would have been awkward bailing on the outing. An odd thing to socially navigate.

We ate at a place called "In Fine Spirits." It was a bit pricey for my income level, luckily someone in our party had a Groupon they happily pitched in which shaved a chunk off the bill. I had the Mushroom Crepe, with Gruyere and maple. Tasty and crafty piece of food, but a little steep in cost and not filling by any means, I'm hoping the ingredients were organic as f*ck and at least heart healthy beyond belief. I washed it down with a Founders Red's Rye Ale which was smooth and hoppy. The girls were all mighty pleased with their cocktails, and had I $14 extra I would have ordered one of them myself, instead I stuck to one of the Red's Rye for $5, the cheapest thing on the drink menu, which for the beer was pretty reasonable, comparable to other bars. Anyway, In Fine Spirits is a place I would love to frequent if I had a bit of wealth going on, that way I could order two food items and multiple drinks without incurring debt. I do love places with cocktails crafted in a uniquely balanced way, as though it's liquid art, ready to vanish in an esophagus, like the Whistler in Logan Square.

At one point I had to run out to the car to re-feed the meter. I almost got hit by a car as I crossed a side street, as the car was seemingly wishing to blow through a stop sign. That's what I did yesterday to get my heart rate going. I didn't bring my phone out with me so had my hip been busted the other members of would have waited awhile before finding out. Note to self: learn girlfriend's phone number by heart in case absence of speed dial and absent minded driver.
When we got home we pigged out on Rahm-en Noodles, slices of cheese, and left over biscuits.

A Person in the Proverbial Pizza Box

Today we have a new mayor in the City of Chicago. I thought I'd sound off on this briefly. I'm excited to see a new era in this city. Despite the good things Mayor Daley did for Chicago, I'm sure as this would be with anyone, after 22 years in one position you start go past the border of expertise and into the land of complacency. Rahm Emanuel has a lot of spunk which is utilized beneficially in the right direction. I'm no expert in municipal politics, but change can never be fully put in the basket of one individual. As we've seen with the narrow sighted expectation of all who voted for Barack Obama that suddenly the USA would be fixed in all its economic, health, and energy issues. A politician is not a messiah. A politician is merely one leader is an intricate network of agendas, and checks and balances. I suppose change begins by taking matters into one's own hands, starting at the level of city block. As JFK said "ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." Solutions are not of the magic wand origin. Solutions come from public sweat.

Something Rahm said in his inauguration speech struck me as something I liked. He will not accept "we've never done that before" as an excuse not to make a change. Politics has stagnated greatly by cookie cutter party approaches. We have municipal, state and national problems that will never budge towards solution if applied with only "tried and true" ideas. Time to think outside the rotting pizza box. Of course, things need to fought out, that's democracy, questioning propositions is a good thing. But I think it's time that new questions and new intellectual fights are instigated.

I like Rahm's spunk. He might be known to a degree as an outspoken, vulgar loud mouth, but I'd also rather not see a soft spoken, doughy fella in the role of mayor of the 3rd largest city in America. For better or worse, now we get to see his true character on a local level. We'll see how this city may or may not shake a tad differently. I make no predictions. To rehash my pizza box metaphor, it's nice switch up where you get your pizza from every now and then and see how it digests. The risk of living.