Chris' Wild Theories

Sitting at Dominick's trying not to do anything.

2011-11-08T13:45:00.000-06:00

Sometimes you want to do anything but what you're supposed to be doing.
I have to pee. I'm not going to do it. I can hold it for years. A lot of people think I'm overweight. I won't be if I ever pee. Just watch. I assume I'll just fly around the bathroom like a balloon that just sprung a leak.
I also need to eat. But I'd rather not. It just makes me mad. I don't really like food. I just like eating. But as soon as I realized that, I started not to enjoy eating either. Don't get me wrong. I'm not anorexic. If I was anorexic, I would be the worst anorexic you've ever tried to pick up and and carry to an Old Country Buffet. I just eat instead of washing dishes or cleaning or showering or calling loved ones. I don't particularly enjoy most occasions when I eat. It's just that eating is a little seratonin bump that isn't as scary as actually doing something important.
Besides, if I eat, I'm just going to have to go to the bathroom sooner than I wanted to. (If you ever hear of a man exploding in downtown Chicago without any explosives being present, you know what happened. I waited too long to go to the restroom.)
I've heard the expression, "Do one thing every day that scares you." Well, earlier today I ate a green bean. That should do it.
Well, look out everybody. I just heard a creaking sound from the stretch marks on my stomach. I think this could be trouble.
Later.

Found out my lungs don't work...

2011-01-06T18:40:00.000-06:00

Went to the doctor and found out that I was operating a pair of 84 year old lungs. I don't even smoke. At least not the last time I checked. Sometimes it smells like I'm burning but I don't think I was actually emitting fumes or clouds of any kind. I did once on an elevator, now that I think of it. But I blamed it on a deaf kid standing next to me. Everybody yelled at him but he didn't care. I promise I wouldn't have blamed him if I knew it would've gotten back to him.
Anyway, I was sick so I went to the doctor and he told me I was sick.
I walked there...with my lungs operating at %50...according to the machine they hooked me up to. My blood pressure was good. Which troubled me because as short of breath as I was, I should have had blood pressure like I was working out. But my body doesn't know what that is, so I can't blame it for not putting too much pressure on itself.
The doctor gave me medicine. An inhaler, antibiotics and a steroid. There was some discussion that I might feel kind of "up" and "focused".
Today, I build a bomb shelter from pieces of discarded thermometers I found throughout the expansive park district properties here in Chicago. Then I dragged it home from the far southside, right next to monument to Bad Bad Leroy Brown. It took a couple hours but I kept my energy up by collecting my steroid infused sweat and inhaling it and then injecting the inhaler right into my head.
Anyway, I feel better and I had time left over to post this blog.
Love,
Me.

Happy Christmas to people

2010-12-22T22:03:00.000-06:00

I haven't blogged in a while. I probably won't blog for a while. You haven't read a blog from me in a while have you? Well there's proof and precedent.
I look forward to seeing all the people who might read this. Maybe I'll be right behind you looking over your shoulder when you read this. Maybe I'll be in your car while you're reading this on your i-phone or maybe you have a full sized, desk top "car computer" like the old car phones that became the communication chips we all have in our heads. Maybe I'll be in your head reading the walls where all your thoughts are written.
At this time, my blog is written on your brain walls. Watch out. You don't want what I got in there.
But it's Christmas so here's a positive thought:
Birds are nice.
Here's another one:
Families are nice.
One more:
Friends are great.
A bonus good thought:
Merry Christmas.

Hello friends and family

2010-06-08T11:15:00.000-05:00

Hey. I just wanted to let you all know that in the future, when and if I post on this blog, those of you who got the e-mail leading you to this blog will be getting e-mails leading you to this blog. Because I like to blog. And it's nice to have an audience. I don't care if you reply or comment or anything. I just wanted you to know why you'll be getting these updates. For no reason other than to know about my current brains.
Love...

Zorro's going to the avian vet.

2010-06-01T20:42:00.001-05:00

More eggs. And probably one more tonight.
We're taking her to the vet tomorrow.

Zorro laid an egg.

2010-05-31T12:06:00.000-05:00

I'm blogging right now to tell you that you really need to have your pet birds sexed at the vet if they aren't birds with obvious sexual markers...like budgies with the purple cere for boys and brown for girls...or the eclectus where the male is red and the female is green.
See, as many of you may know, I have 6 birds. One is a lovebird named Zorro. He was given to us by a friend who could no longer take care of him. At least that's what she said. I'm not questioning whether she could take care of Zorro. She was sick and we were glad to take over the responsibilities and invite the little bird into our little aviary. I just think it's funny that she had the bird for 7 years and assumed Zorro was a boy.
Well, he's not. He's a she. She laid an egg the other day. And one of our parakeets is the daddy of that non-viable egg.
I'm assuming this parrot on my left hand is a boy and the one on my head is a girl. But I don't know. You know why? Because I only have tri-chromic vision. Birds see extra colors and it's those extra colors that reveal the sex to each other.
Where's the funny in this blog? I wrote it in ultra-violet. Parrots are falling out of the sky with laughter.

The hidden secret blog.

2010-05-27T16:13:00.000-05:00

This is a blog that is a secret. You'll never know it's here. I laid low for a long time and now, right when you thought I wasn't going to blog anymore, I'm back. It's like a hidden track at the end of a cd. Except nobody uses cd's anymore. It's all mp3's now. Or there are some people going backwards to more reliable modes of recording and playback like training an old cat to repeat stuff you say. Then while the cat is repeating it, you use a laser pointer pointed at the shell of a nearby turtle and the cat takes care of the percussion as well.
This blog is like that.
I am outside because I live in the future where you can be outside and be on the internet and no one even looks at you funny. By the way, the future officially started on April 3, 2008. So before that was the present. Now is later and the future is the distant future now with deference to the ancient past which is gone but not forgotten unless they didn't have writing back then. Or you could check a really old turtle pounding cat for some more detailed information.
I just wanted to let you who sought out and found this hidden track blog entry that you win.
That's it.
You win.
I hope you're satisfied.
I hope that makes your day.
You are a winner.
And what do you win?
An inside tip:
I will start another blog soon.
And it will start another blog even sooner.
And then later when the present/future boundaries are squared away, there will be an exponential growth in the amount of blogs that I will create.
One will be called, "Watch out Mavis!" It will be very specific to a woman named Mavis. Maybe a lot of you won't want to read that one because it's really just for Mavis.
The next one will be called, "Absolutely!" where I just whole-heartedly agree with everything that I say.
Later, a blog will be called, "I'm in the future but I still can't find my keys." Self-explanatory. In fact, that blog will constantly be explaining itself.
If any of you would like a transcript of these blogs, you should repeat them aloud to a speech to text translating computer program and have it print it out for you to have delivered at a future time.
And there you have it.
You've been moved and shaken and the next time we talk, I'll tell you what else you were.
Thanks for being the guy or lady who read this.

Open letter to all those people who are pretending to be me.

2010-04-04T20:59:00.000-05:00

Been pondering, with great concern, this idea of a possibly infinite number of parallel universes. Are all those guys me? Are they really that much like me? Should I feel like I'm less important if I make a worse choice than one of my counterparts in another universe. Is it helpful to blog these strange questions? The real problem is, why do I panic when I think that there's somebody out there doing exactly or almost exactly the same thing I'm doing? I really wanted to be the greatest, most unique guy in the universe but know it turns out that I'm competing with my mirror image for the job.
Sometimes being great is a great burden. Of course, if I was a shithead, I'd still be competing with myself. I just wouldn't be as keenly aware of the competition. I guess it's okay to have all these other pseudo-me's out there. I mean, what are you going to do?
If every choice I make creates another universe with the choice I didn't make, then I should always couch every choice as "Either I eat the coffee cake or...I kill myself in some spectacular fashion." Then I eat the coffee cake and, one by one, all those other parallel me's (freeloaders, one and all) kill themselves. Eventually, I'll be the only one left.
Of course, to live with that on your mind and an actual choice all the time would be really stressful.
So I'm calling a truce between me and me.
You live your life and I'll live mine. And if you happen to do everything I do, that's on you. I'm doing my thing and you're doing yours. And they might just happen to be exactly the same.
Of course, this is all only if you believe the theory that there are many worlds.
Maybe in another universe I do, but not in this one.
Chris

A new show.

2009-12-14T12:28:00.000-06:00

My first show, "Chair" is ending it's 2009, 12 show, run next week so we've started rehearsal on the next show, "Denouement". It's a play that takes place after the resolution of a previous, much more exciting play.
Some recasting is needed as one actress has backed out.
Now, do I go find a homeless woman and offer her a chicken dinner a day to play the role or do I audition new people? As both are very very inconvenient, I will ask friends.
It doesn't seem professional to cast friends but then again, if I am to have any friends at all, I have to put them in shows because I won't have time for them otherwise.
Keep your friends close and your actors closer. Keep your enemies in a meat freezer somewhere. It's much safer.
Here's a short play about my enemies in a meat freezer:

Enemy #1
I wish I had been nicer to Chris Churchill.

Enemy #2
Me too. I now see how he's right about everything all the time and how admirable he is.

Enemy #1
I have also noticed how hard it is to eat frozen,raw beef.

Enemy #2
I have to say, Chris Churchill warned us abou that.

Enemy #1
Do you have any tongue left?

Enemy #2
Cow tongue?

Enemy #1
No. Your tongue. You got it stuck on that side of beef, remember?

Enemy #2
Of course.

Enemy #1
Where is Godot II anyway? He was supposed to be here.

Enemy #2
Why would he come here?

Enemy #1
Chris Churchill posed the same question.

Enemy #2
I wish I was Chris Churchill.

Enemy #1
Me too. Well, time to die.

Enemy #2
See you on the other side.

Enemy #1
Goodnight.

chugging along

2009-12-10T21:16:00.000-06:00

Must keep typing.
Must keep believing.
Someone must see this...someday.
I feel as if I'm on an island. Where is my coconut life raft?

To keep my sanity, I must keep up the blog. At times it feels as if no one will ever read or comment but I must have faith. I must believe...or once again...the blog will die.

So, 2 degrees this morning. You know how cold that is? You know where you are? It's colder than that. You know how cold that is? A cab driver drove me to my train station for free.

So, currently, it is the winter of my blog. This blog is cold. So cold. Windswept. Painful. But the sun will come out, Annie! But guess what, the blog cab driver is giving my blog a free ride to the train.

Won't you give my blog $2.50? Because that's train fare plus a transfer.

And also some important stuff is going on in my life too. But I would never talk about it to nobody. And currently there's nobody here.

Whoosssshhhh...says the wind.

Then silence.

Midgets are candy.

2009-12-09T14:17:00.000-06:00

This blog is about getting blog readers. If you are already reading this, you may disregard this. If you are not currently reading this, then listen up. I need you to come here a minute. I'm not going to hit you. I just want to talk to you for a second...well it took me 59 seconds to type that sentence.

Just wondering why you're not reading this. Any answers as to why you're not reading this? Is it because we just spoke? Is it because, "it's enough already with the Chris Churchill"?

So...what's up? Nothing important, I guess, if you're reading this. I mean, you're not checking with me to see what I think about Health Care Reform, right? Even though I think that people shouldn't get sick or injured. Then we'd have more time.

See what I mean? It's simple. All you have to do is read. You don't have to think, contemplate or consider. Just read. Breathe every once in a while. I don't even care if you eat or excrete waste. Just breathe and read.

Want to hear what I think about the war? What war? I don't know. What's on t.v.? Uh-oh. It's that really depressing reality show about some war. I hate it. They should cancel that war and just give everyone a nice severance.

What about the future? What do I think about the future? I won't know til I get there, I guess. Unless, wait...it's coming to me. I know what I think about the future. However, to tell you what I think about it would prevent me from being born and then I'd have to do an entirely different blog. And frankly, I'm not prepared for that. It's been a rough life so far and I'd rather not start all over again.

What do I think about global warming? I think polar bears stranded on drifting ice is cute at first. Then it gets depressing, so I turn that war program which leads me to turn off the television and huff "Breck".
If it was really getting warmer, wouldn't somebody say something? I mean, I know I don't listen to anyone, but I swear I haven't anything about global warming.

What do I think about the Mars probe? What goes around comes around doesn't it Martians? How do like being probed?

What do I think about blogging? Well, I've had four good thoughts in my life and I can't remember any of them. But luckily, at least two of them are still on line in my 2005 blog entries. If I think of anything good from here on out, I'll let you know.
Like this: "I've thought of a good thing!" And, though you can't see me, my finger will be raised triumphantly in the air. Then I will recount the good thing that I thought and you will reply anonymously that you already knew that and that I should move back to Saskatoon and tell an Eskimo. And then it's on because Eskimos hate being called Eskimos. They're little people.
And midgets are candy.
Don't ever forget.
Midgets are candy.

Wow.

2009-12-08T23:52:00.003-06:00

I didn't know I was still able to blog on this. It's been a year and a half. God bless Blogger. I'm eating 72% chocolate, listening to Howard Stern and trying out my new Clear internet service. It seems to be pretty good. I have a netbook and I'm planning on writing a screenplay which I will then shoot, edit and submit to festivals. That's the plan. I really always loved blogging. Maybe I'll link to this from my new website for my theater group, www.cogovs.com.
Yes, I will!
Then from Facebook, Youtube, MySpace! It's a whole new world! Technology is accelerating so quickly that some believe that technology will reach a point at which we will be able to do everything by Dec. 21, 2012. I didn't even learn that from John Cusack. Who thinks Cusack has become a douchebag? And who thinks he always was? Well, he's rich and working so he beats me. But fewer people think I'm a douchebag, I bet. I mean, I only have 600 friends or so on Facebook. At most 600 could think I'm a douchebag. Although, on my trolley job that I've been working for 11 years, I"ve met about 1,000,000 people. Even if the 1,000,000 I've met think I'm a douchebag, John Cusack's got multiple millions who've seen him behave like a spoiled rich kid (even though he's in his 40's) in interviews. Dean Richards asked him if he was going to be happy to be home for the holidays. Okay, not a brilliant question but I don't think that was the point. I think good ol' Dean was trying to set a friendly tone for the interview and John Cusack wouldn't accept any pleasantries.
Now the question is, do more people like him than me? Yes. Because all over America, women stuck in their 1980's adolescence, still think that the image of him holding up the radio is the most romantic thing they've ever seen. However, he doesn't want to be known for that. So I would like to start a "John Cusack renounces what made him cool in that one good movie he did." grassroots smear campaign.
Joan seems to be cool.

The new blog

2008-09-25T13:33:00.002-05:00

I'm thinking about starting a new blog. Especially considering that I rarely post anything on this one anymore. The reason I hadn't been posting is that for the last year and a half, I haven't had internet service and so blogging was tough. I have it now...at least until I forget to pay the bill. The point is, my blog lost it's momentum long ago.
So I'm thinking about a new blog.
It's a soap opera.
As anyone who knows me knows, I've got a lot of birds. They all have different personalities. They all have different relationships with each other and with us. It seems like if I also laid on some sort of job or even profession over their actual personalities, you've got some intrigue.
Maybe one of them is the hunk. One's the bitch. One's a manipulator. One's the patriarch that gives advice and acts morally. A couple wild cards.
Now let's drop into the town of Poopcarpet, Illinois.
But wait. Let's don't do it on this blog.
Let's start the Poopcarpet, Illinois blog.
Let the music begin...
The title shot is of the tall, stately "Charlie Mansion" covered with it's black cage cover. The music swells, the cover is removed reveal the blue birdie cel phone and Petey pushed the "I Love You" button.
Now, move over to www.poopcarpet.blogspot.com

My work computer knows my name

2008-04-15T18:45:00.003-05:00

So I decided to post another blog today, having not done it in quite some time. Apparently, I've used this computer for this before. Which surprises me. I'm not even supposed to be back here on this computer. This isn't my office or computer. But nobody seems to mind.
I've been training new employees at the trolley company on the tour and driving. I'm hot stuff. I was referred to as "the most important guy in a blue shirt" at the company.
I am. Not just at the company but anywhere. I challenge you to find a more important person with a blue shirt on. Blue shirts generally indicate being unimportant. Did fonzie, Jesus or Walter Payton ever wear a blue shirt? Nope. Only the Royals and the Cubs. And I'm more important than both George Brett and Ryne Sandberg. Ask my mother. She's the one that set my life in the trajectory that landed me in the blue shirt anyway. And she knows how important I am.
Excelsior.

I'm tense

2008-03-16T19:18:00.002-05:00

I'm tense. I'm blogging right now even though I know that my wife is next door waiting for me to come back with our G5. We've been working around the apartment and we get on each others nerves. And now she's expecting me back. I feel like Anne Frank in the attic. I hope she doesn't remember where our friend across the hall lives.
Oops there's a knock at the door.
Taking my cyanide pill.
Oops the rifle shot in my mouth only grazed the inside of my head.
Better luck next time.
Ssshh.
She's listening.

I am at work.

2008-02-28T18:44:00.002-06:00

And I am working. This is how you work. You work for a little bit of time and then you stop working to blog. But don't forget to get paid. That's the important part. If you can get paid to do nothing and then add to the nothing, something you'd prefer to be doing, then it's like you're getting paid to do something you like doing. So in my mind, I am officially a professional blogger until I finish this blog.
Here's the political rant:

MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT BARACK OBAMA IS THE ANTICHRIST. FURTHERMORE, MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE JOHN MCCAIN IS THE SUPERBUDDHA AND THAT HILLARY CLINTON IS THE EXTRAMOHAMMED. THEREFORE, THE QUESTION IS, WOULD YOU VOTE AGAINST SOMETHING OR FOR SOMETHING AND THE ANSWER IS YES. YES I DO. AND, SADLY, I AM. FOLLOW THAT WILLIAM F. BUCKLEY JR.!

Thank you.

Here's the title.

2008-02-25T23:53:00.003-06:00

I've been discussing orthopedic injuries with a friend today. Mine, hers, theirs, yours. Whatever. If it's orthopedic, we're interested. Or we were. Don't try to jump in now with your orthopedic humor. It's too late. We've already moved onto cancer. And in the time I've typed this line we've arrived on the topic of YOU.
How are you?

No.

I mean really. How ARE you? You say you're fine but I see that your eyes are lying. And it makes me want to strangle your eyes. Let me tell you something:

The moment has passed. Maybe later, I'll tell you something.

I went to an orthopedentiatrician today. He helped me save the bones in my children's teeth by feeding them correctly. He also told me that I can either have an operation or wear a brace until I die.

Now, my political thing:

YOU BIG DUMMY. YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SMART MR. POLOTIC! OH NO. THIS ISN'T MR. POLOTIC? YOU SAY YOUR NAME IS MR. POLITIC? AND I'M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE YOU? THAT'S SLICK OL' MR. POLOTIC FOR YOU. ALWAYS TELLING PEOPLE HE'S MR. POLITIC. ANYWAY, HILLARY'S GOT CANKLES. CANKLE '08!!

And I'm out.

Man I hate this auto-save

2008-02-22T15:53:00.002-06:00

Chris, talk to me. Do you enjoy this new auto-save feature "they" have put on our blog?

Yes, OUR blog...

I just went through the Old Post Department and deleted at least two posts by yours truly that were no more than two sentences. Incomplete sentences. What bullshit is this?

Anyway, thanks for your text message today, it filled my heart with warmth and semen. Do ya'll want to know what Chrissy Poo Poo Churchill texted me today at 12:35pm?

He wrote "I miss scott mcnulty".

That's ME!

It's true that I normally capitalize the letters S, M, and N, but still...It's the thought that counts.

Some of you reading this probably believe that Churchill is gay now because of this explosive information I am recklessly throwing into the ether, and you would be RIGHT. He is mad gay.

But we don't judge here, we accept and make fun of.

I've been thinking a lot about what great friends I have up there in the windy north, they keep calling me, cell phone-minute-wasting-bastards. Mikey Schmitt vows to visit me in May of this year. Birdhause calls to say things like "I'm a vegetarian, blah blah blah, I believe in Buddha, blah blah blah, SAVE THE OCEANS! blah blah blah."

Yeah, he's not a great conversationalist, but remember, it's the thought baby. The thought.

And now a text "massage" from Crazy Face Churchron. Hell, even Matty Roundhouse Riggs keeps in touch, and I keep touching him. Every chance I get.

You guys are ALLLL-right.

I'm gonna go now. And poop.

I just ate a big Subway sandwich. Goes right through me.

I am fat.

Love,
McNooch

Thinking about funny

2008-02-21T11:28:00.002-06:00

I'm listening to an old Howard Stern interview of Robin Williams. Which is strange, because, Howard is always talking about how Robin Williams isn't funny. But apparently, he was funny at least one day...

But this is just one of a long series of old interviews with comedians that they're playing on Howard Sterns Sirius channel.

But this whole week, blogging frequently, seeing and hearing all this comedy on television and radio, has made me wonder lately if my blog is actually a good place to mine material for shows.

Maybe.

I do feel like I'm more relaxed and creative when I'm making nonsense up on the blog. And I have read from my blog on stage and gotten a lot of laughs.
The stream of consciousness I have, is apparently much different than the stream that comes out of Robin Williams. His stream is relatively topical. I'm not even sure that mine is based in this reality. I do tend to escape into weirdness. It's a good ride for me. I hope it works for others.

My therapist suggested to me that, in my childhood solitude, I used my mind to keep myself occupied. She's right. I wrote stories that were extremely derivative of stuff I had just read or seen on television or in the movies. I made my twelve inch action figures wrestle until I made them bleed with red magic markers. It washed off really well. I made my six inch G.I.Joes play football against each other. There were some really heroic catches and runs in my G.I. Joe Bowl games.

Breaker was my favorite, but Gung Ho was pretty cool too. Gung Ho had a shaved head, a big moustache, a sleeveless shirt, and some sort of brimmed hat. He looked just like the leather guy from the Village People on Reserve weekends.

Robin Williams just said his act came from a "sesspool of consciousness". That's better.
So in terms of ratio of jokes made to laughs produced, do we think Robin is on the low end?

Mitch Hedberg made me laugh more than %85 of the time.
Brian Regan, Jim Gaffigan, Todd Barry %80.
Steven Wright used to make me laugh %80-90 of the time but that was the first time you heard the act. Then the percentage would drop quickly.
Cosby, I'm ashamed to say, still makes me laugh but his show is only half jokes anymore. The rest of it is "poignant".
Robin Williams makes me laugh after about %15 of his jokes. But lucky for him, he won't shut up so I laugh almost as much with him as I would with, say, an episode of Good Times.

I, personally, am a little too relaxed to actually create the rapid fire punch line performance that would make me a real "comedian". I found out a while a go that I don't really have that healthy fear of the audience. I'm actually pretty disinterested in them when I'm in front of the mic. That's probably not a good thing. But I'm changing my attitude. I'm going to gather new material. And I'm going to do it as honestly and as much like "myself" as I can.

Wow, did you see that?

2008-02-20T10:15:00.002-06:00

I was looking at the "archive" list next to my blog entries and I noticed that in 2007, I blogged for one week only. That's weird, because I was typing. I wonder where all those words went.
If you find them, let me know. I think I saw them last Thursday at that liquor store in Wrigleyville. They saw me and looked at me, rather embarrassed, and then threw a star crunch at me and jetted out of there.
But here's what you'll see if you look for them:
1. A mention of an entirely different Chris Churchill, also from Kansas City, also living in Chicago and with my same birthday but he's a construction worker 8 years younger than me.
2. The words "I wish" and "I hope" are all over the pile of my words from 2007.
3. A lot of "$" And "-" side by side.
4. Multiple instances of "I really shouldn't buy this bird. I really don't have the money."
5. There are also many reports of "needing more hours at work".

The whole pile of words is about 12 feet tall and weighs over 700 lbs. It ambulates with one undulating appendage (even though it has two legs). We don't know what the appendage is.

Don't approach him. Don't call him by name. His name is Wayne Pearson, but don't call him that. If you want his attention, say, "Hey sweetie. I noticed your nose is bleeding." That usually makes him smile coyly and sit in your lap.

Man oh man. Wayne Pearson, huh? Please come home, Wayne Pearson. There's a lot of people waiting for you and your huge collection of Bill Cosby sweaters.

I want to do stuff

2008-02-19T20:06:00.002-06:00

Last night, I watched a documentary on the history channel about standup comedians. Looks like fun. I should try that again sometime. I feel that now I'd be better than I was before. I really only accomplished good stand-up once at an open mic. The rest of the time, I was doing some weird, dishonest stage personna. I would love to get started again doing my material as I would say it to my friends on those occasions when they're laughing at me. Of course, that would mean going to open mics again. I don't know if I can spare the evening(s). Actually, the more I type, I wonder if my interest will last until the end of this post.
I also went to a couple different places looking for magnets. I found them. Thank you. No. I'm not telling you why. But it's another thing I want to do.
So here's todays political rant for the benefit of CNN:

IF HILLARY WANTS THE 13 YEAR OLD KANSAS GIRL VOTE, SHE'S GOT TO PUT ON A SUNDRESS AND WEAR SOME HAIR EXTENSIONS. THE DANGER HERE IS, NOBODY WANTS A GIRLY PRESIDENT. BUT APPARENTLY THE 13 YEAR OLD KANSAS GIRL ALSO DOESN'T WANT A MASCULINE WOMAN. I GUESS THE 13 YEAR OLD GIRL VOTE WILL HAVE TO DISCOVER THAT PARADOX AS SHE MATURES. hOPEFULLY THAT'LL BE IN TIME TO VOTE FOR CHELSEA.

Take that CNN

Childrens party time!

2008-02-18T10:55:00.002-06:00

So I'm in Kansas City (technically Lenexa, Kansas) babysitting my nieces. They're 15 and 13 so there's really not a lot I need to do anymore. If a 15 year old girl needs any real help, she doesn't need her uncle anyway. She needs any of the hundreds of females walking around the sidewalks and shopping centers of Johnson County Kansas. I'm sure they'll be happy to help. Luckily no problems there so far.

So in a few moments I'll be taking the girls in the van and picking up two nephews and another niece and going to Pizza Street at my 10 year old nephew Henry's suggestion. Apparently he likes the fact that it's an all you can eat buffet for 3.99. So cheap, he even offered to pay. Two years ago, maybe I would have taken his money but I've matured.

Apparently, as legend has it, the last time they went, the younger nephew Hudson (I think he's seven) ate a few mushrooms and chose that occasion to find out he was allergic. Henry, the family statistician, informed me that it took ten trays and three bowls to catch it all. Henry had to crawl under the table to go play games. So, let me get this straight, Henry. You watched your little brother vomit harder and longer than he ever had...in a public place, no less. Had the presence of mind to count the receptacles and then you ran off to play skeeball? (that's right, skee ball. I don't claim to know what kids play these days...no doubt some guitar slinging, dancing, car stealing and murdering combination that allows you to collect points that you can use against your parents in real life.)

So today should be fun. I'm looking forward to cheap pizza and questionable deserts.

It's a Rap Battle!

2008-02-17T23:38:00.004-06:00

...between Dr. Change-rhymes Churchron and Master McNutty the Silly Space Putty!

Who will win???

Probably me, since I invented the contest and create all the rules as I go along. Change-rhymes forgot his username and password so I helped by not giving it to him and then laughing about it to myself as I drank vodka tonics in the lounge of an old hotel in the snow-topped mountains of the Arizona high country.

Yes, we have snow here. And mountains. You can ski on/down them, if you're into that sort of thing. I prefer drinking in the taverns that surround said mountain. Some discussion arose as to the identity of The Who's drummer. The original drummer. I couldn't remember, so who did I text?

Chris "the secret bird eater" Churchron. (Keith Moon)

But that doesn't let him off the hook! This is a rap battle!

...A BATTLE!!!!!!

I don't need to be the better rapper (or blogger) I just need to convince you to vote for me, that way I'll win and great things will befall me. I deserve great things (for some reason)!!!

If you see the Churchinator tell him I Win!!!

Love,

Hot Sandwich

I'm Back!!

2008-02-16T23:29:00.002-06:00

Hey Everyone!
I've been gone from the blog for a while. I didn't know my username or password and have been too distracted for too long a time to do anything about it. Let me tell you what's happened in the last year and a half.
I got birds.
I started writing and directing plays. Got a great review for my first show, "Chair". The important thing is that this seemed to have kicked the new production company currently in bloom, The Co-Governors of Space, right in the crumple zone. And we've been working steadily as a group on many projects since then. We've got a play called "You Are Poop" opening in April. On the fourth, actually. That's the 40th anniversary of MLK's assassination.
Now I blog a moment of silence.

Ahem.

Are you back?

Okay.
So I didn't mean to have it open on such a solemn occasion, however, you take it when you can book it.
We're also working on a show about the evolution of the human race all at once on December 21st, 2012. I haven't played in a band for a long time but I'm using this as an excuse to jump back in to playing for a while (at least as long as the show runs). A "bandmate" in this fake band, assembled just for the show, is the bass player for the Tossers (an Irish rock band of some note but of even more bad luck). Anyway, I'm pretty jazzed about playing with a guy who's actually toured with other bands that I've heard of and who actually was (is?) signed to a label. Also, I'm excited about the musicianship of him and the two or three others that will be part of this fake band. Since the show's a fake benefit for 2012, I thought the band name might have something to do with aliens. I heard the Grays are the good ones. Then there are some reptillians, from what I've heard. So maybe, "Little Gray Men" or "Pissy Little Grays" or just "The Grays". What do you think.
Band name suggestions are now being accepted for this upcoming fake band showcase.

As far as the birds go, if you're reading this, you probably already know.
Now this is for CNN.
I HAVE IT ON GOOD AUTHORITY THAT HILLARY CLINTON IS NOT DOING SO WELL AMONG YOUNG WOMEN BELOW THE VOTING AGE IN THE SUBURBS OF KANSAS CITY. APPARENTLY, THIS IS A DEMOGRAPHIC THAT BARACK OBANA HAS ALL TIED UP!

That having been said, I am near the internet for the next few days so expect posts here and on my myspace blog. I don't know why I have both but I do. I guess if you read one and I'm not done thinking, you can read the other. Maybe I'll figure out why I post here and then find a different reason for posting on myspace.

Well this one says "theories" and the other one has a picture of my cockatiel, "Jim". Maybe there's my answer.

Yes.

There's my answer.

What's on the Menu?

2008-01-10T17:24:00.000-06:00

Roast beef witha sida SANDWICH!

Attention Jerkstore customers, we have a sale on aisle nine, buy two Jerks, get one free A-hole!!!!

So anyway.........Hot Sanwich here, still livin' the dream Southwest Style, just finished a bowl of chili, which is something they only have here, in The Real America! You wish you had it there, in Fake America, but you don't. Oh no! You don't.

What else is going on?

Watching television, which I LOVE!

Doing sex on the ladies, which THEY love!

Fanning the flames of Revolution, which EVERYONE loves!

And dumping. Lots and lots of good turd dumping..............sweet.

Want to watch? Good.

Contact me for details. You know the way. Don't delay. Call today!

(you're gay)

Love,
(sound of screaching eagle)

Balls Deep!

2007-06-15T10:02:00.000-05:00

The triumphant return of Santos L. Halper! He's a big, hairy gay man who lives in a fake apartment across the street from a fake bar filled with fake people eating $1 cheeseburgers with tater-tots and talkin' 'bout baseball. He's a hoot!

One time, Santos tried to do it with me, but I resisted. I let him give me a BJ, but only because he seemed so DESPERATE! Santos' best-gay-friend is a guy named Steve, he joined the military just for the Man Factor, he showers six times a day, I asked him why, and he said he can only masturbate in the shower.

They LOVE Irish people over there!

Santos, Steve, keep on keepin' on...for me.

p.s. Churchill is a dummy

Love,
ttocS

This Overpowering Urge to Kill sure does get in the way of forming Lasting Friendships

2007-06-14T10:55:00.000-05:00

But, we all have our demons...Except me. I slayed mine. Literally! Killed him real good, then hung his carcass in the closet. It isn't necessary that I write such horrible madness down in blog form, but then, it isn't UNnecessary either, is it?

I've decided to take over Churchill's blog. He doesn't have internet access right now on account of his very expensive computer not working after only two years of ownership, so he'll be surprised when he comes back to the virtual world to see that I've Single Handedly (insert masturbation joke here) Re-created a loyal fan base for his lazy-ass.

Yeah...I'm pretty great that way...

Blah, blah, blah...joke...joke...PATHOS...Conclusion

The End,

Love S.

Hey, do you ever wish Chris would post again?

2007-06-13T09:46:00.000-05:00

I think we all do. If there's even anyone still foolish enough to hang around this site...

Remember the good old days? When Dave B. used to stop by almost everyday and Santos L. Halper would leave vaguely humorous yet cryptic comments concerning the futility of Being? Yeah...that was sweet.

Where, indeed, have all the cowboys gone???

So what's new with The Sandwich? Well, I gotta new blog, then I destroyed it and got another new blog, I like to keep the fans guessing. Speaking of fans, there's a ceiling fan above my head right now--well, truth be told it's more directly above my feet as I lie in my bed typing this virtual script of virtual words. I have to have a fan on all the time now, due to the fact that I live in Arizona. That's a place far, far away where people live in caves and wear animal skins. Only I have a ceiling fan, so they worship me like the god that I already assume I am. It's pretty sweet.

What've YOU been up to, friend?

Me, I'm alright. Except I got a blister on my crotch. Yeah! Right in the middle of my taint. Why? I have no idea! I don't bother with shit down there in that in-between region, why should I? It hurts when I walk. I blame Churchill. I walk a lot now in the mornings, with a dog named Max who belongs to a slightly crotchety old lady named Jean who lives in my neighborhood. I walk him for Money. I'm a dog prostitute, which is what I always Wanted to Be anyway. Don't know how much longer I can make it, though. What with my taint blister and all my fatness. Oh, boy am I fat! You thought I sounded fat before? Well, listen to this:

FAT!

That's me! I live in a place with no access to public transit, hence, I must drive everywhere, hence, I don't walk anywhere (except with Max) and henceforth am I now a glutenous blob of body mass bobbing up and down the sun-drenched streets of solitude, alone but for the voice of my Mind...

Wow...Heavy. (Literally)

I'm going to start working out any day now. Just you watch. (I'm required to say this by law, don't worry, I'm going to stay fat)

Imagine I suddenly became rich and good looking? I'd have nothing to talk about.

So, enjoy!

Love,
Scott

The couch

2006-08-23T19:59:00.000-05:00

It is hard to get off the couch when the rest of the room promises you nothing but responsibilities. If I move, I'll have to pay those bills. If I rise from my stupor, I'll have to get ahold of that guy who's got my van. It's hot in here anyway. If I wake up, I'll have to fight the urge to eat all those oreos.

I don't want to go to work anymore. I don't work much anyway but there's something about having to shut your mind off entirely for 12 hours at a time while I do the city tour that is frightening...and painful. Sure, I could be making money by being extremely happy to see everyone who gets on my bus, but I'm not dishonest with myself in this regard. I wish everyday was one of those days when the passengers all forget to show up but we stay out for twelve hours collecting a paycheck.

I'm hoping that I get a job as a locksmith. I have no experience but the place is by my house and they say they'll train me. There. I'll learn a new school.

Then I won't mind getting off the couch.

Hello Schadenfreuders

2006-08-16T22:58:00.000-05:00

Hey Schadenfreuders,
If you've been directed to this blog via the Schadenmail e-newsletter, let me greet you. Hey.
I wanted to introduce the Co-Governors of Space to you.
The tall skinny one is Chris Hauser. He's not here right now. The other one is Scott McNulty. He's also currently indisposed. But I am Chris Churchill. The best of the Co-Governors of Space. Now for the reason that the other Co-Governors might be reading this, I'll say that I'm joking and that they're both wonderfully talented guys. But really. I'm the greatest. Just kidding guys...(not really). Kidding. (nope.)

Anyway, we'll be doing a few minutes at the Schadenfreude rent party this friday and we're pretty excited.

The reason I'm writing this is so that you can go to our myspace page
www.myspace.com/cogovernorsofspace

See you friday.

The forecast calls for shame.

2006-08-15T17:58:00.000-05:00

Tonight I go to Gunther Murphy's to do some stand-up. I recently discovered that I'm pretty good making it up. Well, at least I did it once. So that means that tonight is the night that I bomb. That's the way it goes. You surprise yourself with a positive outcome and then you follow that with a miserable failure. I only wish I had had the failure at the open mic and the success tonight. When all the comedians are unable to make eye contact with me after the show tonight, I'm just going to shake my head and say to myself, "I told me so." But then I'll reply, "What could I do? I couldn't cancel. I've been working really hard to try to get a slot at The Chicago Underground Comedy."
So tonight, I promise to let you all know how bad it went.

Oh by the way, The Co-Governors of Space are performing on August 30th at the Empty Bottle (1035 n. Western) at 8:30 pm.

Have you seen this chicken?

2006-07-12T10:45:00.000-05:00

People have said to me, "Chris, you've got to post something new." One guy said, "Chris, you've got to post something new!" And still another person (gender uncertain) said "Chris, you've got to post something new?"

One creature (species unknown) said it very loudly.

Well, here's the problem: Another galaxy is heading our way. You see, in about 10 billion years, we're going to spiral into our nearest neighbor, Ned. Ned the friendly galaxy. He's friendly but he's a galaxy and he's a little clumsy. We can see him falling into us, but there's nothing we can do about it. It's the cosmological equivalent of watching someone fall into you with a cream pie in their hands. While our galaxy can see the pie coming, it is very unlikely that we won't get some cool whip on us.

So I've been working day and night to tell all the chickens until I tell the right one. As I don't know what Chicken Little looks like (movies can be so misleading), I have to keep telling all of them until he finally gets the message and tells everyone else. Once everyone knows, everyone will yawn and say, "Ten billion years? We're not even going to be here. By then all humans will be one guy who runs really fast and needs very little oxygen but a lot of space."

I'll say.

Anyway, don't worry about the future until you get there. You might still be doing something you like that you arrived at by doing the thing you like right now. So that career in making tickertape for parades may turn into a job in recycling with will, of course lead you to bicycling. Combining your knowledge of recycling and bicycling, you will create the galaxy's most efficient fuel system and save us all. All the while, you'll be remembering and referencing those carefree mornings on your bicycle, riding with your friend, Andromeda, the Performing Bear.

Brian

2006-06-12T23:05:00.000-05:00

I have my latest straight guy man crush. Brian. He's got muscles, a crew cut, and tattoos. He drinks more energy drinks than the can of energy tells you you should. He only uses his car as extra weight when he jogs. He out Chuck Norrises Chuck Norris. And he strongly, and earnestly suggested that I would feel a lot better if I excercised. Something about him makes me think, "That guy is right." Sure, psychiatrists, friends, family and spouse have said the same thing but the guy that works security at The Logan Square Auditorian AND drives a double decker bus was just manly enough to sway me. Normally, I don't take advice from anyone with a south side of Chicago accent but in this case I'll make an exception. The reason for the exception? He knows all the same stuff I do except he's strong and has tattoos. He's also got an eight year old child named little Brian. When I have kids, I'm going to name them all Little Brian.
Drink three monster energy drinks and call me. Then I'll introduce you to the man who can introduce you to the man who can introduce you to Brian. That man will ask you a riddle. If you can answer the riddle, he will walk you the man who can introduce you to Brian who will challenge you to a simultaneous arm wrestling and staring contest. If you survive, you will be introduced to Brian (who will not come out from behind his velvet curtain until you have proven yourself to be worthy) and then maybe you and I can be friends.
Oh wait. You're not Brian, are you? Too bad. Brian's my new friend. Not you.

Big Show coming up.

2006-06-11T11:49:00.000-05:00

Hey to the three people that read this blog! Just wanted to mention that The Co-Governors of Space have the biggest show of their lives coming up on July 5th. The Empty Bottle has given us the entire night to do with what we will. That means from 8 to 11 that wednesday the best comedy in town will be on a big stage in the coolest venue in town, The Empty Bottle. We have five comedians and us filling the night. Plenty of amazing talent. Tony Sam, Robert Buscemi, Allison Leber, Jared Logan and Kumail are my favorite local comedians and they're going to be there that night. And expect all the best that we've ever put on stage that night as well.
It's going to be really cool...as long as we pull together an audience. So now I've got to get on the promotion. That really just means calling everyone I know and personally imploring them to come. And of course e-mail and MySpace. Then I guess I should flyer in the area of The Empty Bottle. Post something on the local improv board. I hope this turns out to be a huge success so that we can do this more than once.
Wish us luck.
You'll hear more about this later.

junk e-mail

2006-05-31T14:37:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to report that I received in my junk e-mail box two e-mails today. One was for penis enlargement. The other simply said, "stretch that pussy".
Now if everyone would just relax, the penis and vagina would work together just fine.
That's all. Just thought you'd all like to know.

Meet Sol.

2006-05-27T20:43:00.000-05:00

The trolley season has kicked off. All over Chicago there was a double decker or a trolley full of people looking at stuff and listening to people on microphones who seem to know what they're talking about. It was the Saturday before Memorial Day and The Chicago Trolley Company and The Chicago Double Decker Company had the biggest day in the history of the company in terms of sales. On average, I'm sure each and every sales person took in about $200 commission today. I made $10. I gave double decker tour guides their lunch breaks. Seated next to me on the bus was Sol. Sol is a temperamental old man. He's a few billion years old. He runs hot. He gives life and takes life. He is a dick on days like today. He sat right next to me spitting in my face as he shouted, "i'm not touching you."
Sol, I welcome you back to Chicago. Just stay out of my face.
I'm burned up.
The good thing is: my wife feels pity for my burned countenance and promises tonight to lotion me up and take care of me.
And that's why Sol is angry. There's no Mrs. Sol. That's on Tatooine but not here on Earth. Let us pray that Sol and Luna can wed and...oh is that how the Earth came about?
Happy Summer!

Read this text.

2006-05-12T15:28:00.000-05:00

The Co-Governors of Space have changed space. Now we co-govern the Gallery Cabaret. We just had our first show there this past wednesday. Small audience but a fun show. It's at 2020 n. Oakley if anyone wants to make their way down there. Get out of the house. Bring your lethargy with you. Once you get there, you can go back to being lethargic.
We've been writing a different show every week. That's hard. But fun.
Why do we do it?
I forget.
.tegrof I
?ti od ew od yhW
.nuf tuB. drah s'tahT .keew yreve wohs tnereffid a gnitirw neeb ev'eW
aretec te.

Today I typed in four sketches that I've written this past week. I went to the hospital for sonogram of my boobies to see what that thing is. Monday I'll know if it's bad thing or just a weird thing.

I'm still trying to get cleared for driving again. Selling tickets on the street is good now but it won't be once they hire all the sales people for the season. Splitting commission five ways isn't ideal.

Who wants to fight?

Visit Sunny Iraq

2006-05-02T19:54:00.000-05:00

Steve's back from Iraq. You might remember Steve. I sent a lot of you to his blog a few months back. He's a good guy. He looks like he just had the greatest vacation. Smiling, tan, thinner. I guess the war isn't so bad. I think I'm gonna go. I guess you just lay out on the beach and drink Slimfast. Apparently it's very funny over there. Steve is still smiling. The Iraqi's must love us. I'll bet they blend smoothies for you while you liberate them. I wonder how, exactly, someone liberates another. I think it's just saying "Open your mind" to a lot of people. Now all the Iraqis are catching up on their western pop culture. They're only up to Jefferson Airplanes' "White Rabbit" but that took a lot of people a long time to get past. Psychedelic Fundamentalist Muslims are tough to deal with. They want to kill infidels but they also recognize that we're all connected in a great tapestry, in fact in the body of God. Therefore, they have to kill themselves in order that God stop disagreeing with himself. It's complicated but I'll bet Steve understands it. He looks like he understands a lot. Sometimes he just stands somewhere and smiles. Then he shakes his head and takes three or four steps and stands and smiles again. He sure likes smiling.
All in all, I guess I have to say. If you want to smile like George W does all day, just go to Iraq with your bathing suit on, your psychedelic music and drugs and do whatever makes you happy. They'll welcome it. In fact, they'll worship you like a Red, White and Blue God.

The great-great nephew of Bad Tempered Buffalo has been abducted by a UFO.

2006-04-26T01:22:00.000-05:00

I've had a pretty good couple of days. A really Zen happy yesterday and a fun philosophical/spiritual teatherball with a world champ in the sport today. The consensus is that I was abducted by aliens at the age of four AND my spirit guides visitted me around the same time. Who should I listen to? The aliens? They have their good points like interstellar travel and the ability to do shit to people without them knowing. The negative is they seem kind of lonely and desperate. The spirit guides are great in that they help us all feel convinced of a oneness and a power in nature. But there's no interstellar travel...at least not in a ship. It could be that they both do the astral travel thing.
I wonder if the aliens have had anything to do with the native american spirit guides. Is it all a mind control procedure? Or is it that UFO's are actually spiritual conveyances rather than material ones? It's tough to know. That's why I plan on asking the next crazy person I meet. They seem to have great theories. The guy that keeps telling nobody that "they don't know what they're talking about," seems cool. He's gotta know something. What about the little Phillipino guy that just starts laughing. He's absolutely got knowledge that I don't. Next time I see him I'll ask him if the UFO's have anything to do with vision quests.

What do YOU think?

Smell you later.

2006-04-20T21:30:00.000-05:00

I'm finding that my wild theories are becoming more manageable now that I'm starting to feel better. I still have plenty of them but I can write them into a sketch or a poem or a song and let them go. Convenient to be able to write how you feel. But what about all those people that can only write what they smell? What about those unfortunate souls? Let me show you an excerpt from the "Olfactory News":

"I smelled flowers today. They smelled good. Then I didn't smell much of anything for about ten minutes. Then I burped and smelled that a little bit. Then I became aware that something was on my moustache that smelled burnt. That bothered me for hours. Then the Presidents Motorcade kicked up a lot of exhaust and street dirt. It was hard to smell anything else at first. Eventually I smelled the smell of gunpowder and then the unmistakable iron smell of blood gurgling through my sinuses. I'm better now but as soon as the smell of antiseptic is removed from me, I imagine I'll be smelling urine and other inmates ass for many years to come."

That was John Hinkleys "Smell Journal"

See. It's tough. It's really tough.

An interesting experience.

2006-04-17T09:33:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to document a pretty cool experience. I went to a friends wedding and, as is common amongst my friends and I, the wedding was very non-traditional. It was held outside on a farm in Kansas. There was a guy in a prairie dog outfit. There were buddhist flags and native american flutes and feathers. It was pretty cool.
Well as part of the whole weekends festivities, they arranged to have a Cheyenne Sweat Ceremony. A man named Scott who was trained by the Cheyenne in various ceremonies facilitated the ceremony. There were two separate ceremonies in case some couldn't make the first one. I couldn't make the first one so I hit the second. This whole thing was important to me as I've always been curious about my own native american roots. I'm part Osage, not Cheyenne, but it'll do in a pinch.
We had to walk across the farm down into the woods where a sweat lodge had been constructed out of tree limbs and blankets. I'm sure if there had been buffalo running around, we wouldn't have used blankets. After we arrived, Scott introduced himself. We stood next to a big campfire. I know fire is hot but this fire seemed to be hot for a large area surrounding the fire. If you looked into the campfire, you could see that under the wood that was burning there were stones. These were volcanic rocks and as Scott explained to us, the native american lore is that the rocks were the worlds first people. Of course this evokes the idea that they have souls which is also believed and taught be the native people. During the ceremony I began to believe it as well. My friend Avrit and I were responsible for digging the rocks out of the fire with a shovel and then, with a pitchfork, bringing them into the sweat lodge. We all individually circled the lodge in clockwise direction and then at the entrance to the lodge we held our hands to the sky and spun once more. Then we entered the lodge. Pretty cosy in there at first. Including Scott, there were six of us in this tiny lodge. We were shoulder to shoulder. I somehow gave up my duty as rock bringer to Avrit. Fine by me. I'm pretty lazy by nature.
So we all watched as Avrit (a man who had the night before fallen down a couple steps and was sure he had cracked a rib) brought the rocks to the entrance of the lodge. Scott, with two forked sticks, placed the rocks in the pit in the center of the lodge. Already, it was very warm. I was thinking, "hmm. warm. This isn't so bad". I was starting to sweat but we weren't even close to hot yet.
Scott then blessed the water in the sherwin williams bucket by touching the bucket to the rocks and saying some Cheyenne blessing. Then he began pouring the water on the rocks. The steam began to rise. Hot. Hotter. Hotter still. I cringed and shrunk away from the steam for a moment because it was so hot. Scott informed us that the best way to deal with the heat was to breathe it in. I did and I felt better.
Now I could probably write the worlds longest blog entry about the intricacies of the ceremony. The prayers, the songs, the emotional reactions of the participants could be described but I'm sure your eyes are already getting tired and, to tell the truth, it's probably not appropriate to blab to everybody about what everyone said in such an intense experience.
Suffice it to say that, I've never been so hot or worked so hard while sitting down. The mere effort it took to breathe was amazing but also exciting. The singing of the songs made the breathing easier, believe it or not. There were four stages of the ceremony. One where we prayed for the children, then the adolescents, the adults and then the ancestors. When my mind wandered, it took me to a plain somewhere in the past where some of my native ancestors must have lived at one time. On another occasion, I pictured seven generations of ancestors before me, gathering together in the afterworld to meet and get along. At another time, in the darkness of my mind, a particle began to race around the inside of my mind in a circle at high speeds. It was as if I was watching a ceiling fan that wasn't there. I remember thinking, "Hey, that's going counterclockwise. It should be going clockwise."
Well ultimately it ended. I was so glad to be out in the normal outdoor air. We drank water and quietly talked about some of our experience.
I assumed it had taken about 45 minutes to an hour. It turns out we were in there burning up for more than two hours. I remember thinking that nothing much really changed inside me. It turns out that the effects started then. They've been growing inside me ever since. A lot of really personal beliefs and ideas. A feeling of connectedness to the people in the lodge and to everyone else.
Blah, blah, blah, sweat lodge, blah, blah.

Thoughts from the heartland.

2006-04-13T15:06:00.000-05:00

So the inevitable seems to be waking up. The collective beast that is cubs fans is waking up and will soon reclaim it's territory within which the blarney stone lies. The Cubs Beast is loud, slow witted, drunk and angry at their parents but they'll take it out on you...probably because they'd still love to be their parents. The Cubs Beast has no conscience or remorse. Only a forward momentum of destruction and chaos. And for that reason the Co-Governors of Space are considering changes. Do we move? Do we stay and beg for the manager to be more hands on in the control of the night of the show?
It'd be nice to get into a nice quiet bar that wants the help of a comedy show. I'd love to be able to hold onto a muskrat for a few moments too but the fact is that today we don't have that kind of relationship with muskrats...or Cubs Beasts. I'd love to cradle the Cubs Beast in my increasingly muscular arms and make them feel the love that the White Sox have for them. The type of life that awaits them if they'd just get their drinking under control.
Meanwhile, I'm in Kansas City right now and I'm thinking about becoming more bi-coastal (Lake Michigan and Missouri River). This is how I plan to do it. The two plays I finished writing last year should be put on. One could be shown in Kansas City at the upcoming fringe festival and the other could be put on at Second City immediately after. Then switch. What I mean by that is that if the right performers (in fact the same performers that saw me last year at the fringe festival) saw my play "You Are Poop" get put on, they might be interested in putting it on down here with my guidance. I'd certainly love to have that happen. Then when "You Are Poop" and the other one, "Chair" have had their short runs, we can flip them in venues in Chicago and Kansas City. The second round of venues will be a little harder to come by but far from impossible.
Anybody think they'd follow a Co-Governors of Space Show to Margie's in Lincoln Square? I think you will.
Alright, who wants to fight?

Hello.

2006-04-04T15:03:00.000-05:00

Hi everybody.

The next big thing.

2006-04-02T22:34:00.000-05:00

Working on the Wednesday night shows is becoming the new routine. That's pretty cool. I may not remember every single bit that we ever do but the process of creating sure is fun. We've got our shows booked through May now and it's April 2nd. That's pretty good. We decided to stop booking improv groups because it's a tough spot to do improv. And the people that like the Co-Governors of Space, don't like improv for the most part.
Frankly, the Co-Governors of Space don't really like improv either.
6 hour epics are the ticket.
You do them at bars. Show starts at 8pm and goes till 2am. Nothing really happens. You just watch two people talking and drinking until you figure out what they're talking about. Then you're interested in their story. It can be interactive too. If you want, you can talk to the performers and they'll incorporate the new information you're giving them into the show. I mean, you can't just say, "I know that guy that you guys were talking about." because that's probably not true. However, if you say, "I was listening to your problem and I have this suggestion to offer you:" If they don't punch you for eavesdropping, you will be invited into the conversation. But even if you're not invited into the conversation, they'll probably talk about you for a really long time...which is pretty neat.
By the way, this show is every night at most bars. DNBYOB.Do Not Bring Your Own Beer.
In San Antonio the show's a lot different now.

And now the news.

2006-03-29T22:57:00.000-06:00

Meteorologists are like psychics. It's a scam. Yesterday they predicted that it would be in the fifties and thunderstorm. They also predicted it for today. Both days it was in the thirties and it did not rain. There I was in my bermuda shorts and snorkel with my reenforced aluminum umbrella (with rubber handle) and I was freezing and sweating all at the same time. If you went to a psychic and they said tomorrow will be a banner day for relationships for you but instead the next day your cousin died, it would be the exact same thing. So I think what should happen: All meteorologists should work a short stint with the psychic friends network so that they can at least make it sound that they might have been right about the weather even though they had no idea what they were talking about.
"No, I didn't say it was going to rain. What I said was that something with the letter 'r' or 'a' in it might happen. But I also told you to be really open to the possibilities of any type of weather. There's an 'r' and an 'a' in 'generally sunny'. See."
And psychics should be forced to predict with balls. Don't be vague.
"Tomorrow you will have emotional turmoil in the morning leading to job loss in the afternoon followed by sporadic drinking in the evening."

Good night.

All cured.

2006-03-28T23:51:00.000-06:00

You ever have a friend try to show you something really cool like a song he can play on the piano or a magic trick or a yo-yo trick but instead of ever accomplishing the feat that friend just keeps going, "No, wait. Hang on. Okay. No. Wait. Wait. Hang on. No. Wait." etc.?
Well, perhaps some of you will think that that's what I'm doing. Every so often on the blog I've made people believe that I was doing alright when I was drowning in obsessive thoughts. (Or at least I tried to make people believe I was fine.) Well, I want to tell everyone that I really believe about 95 per cent that I'm actually doing better now. I think they finally got me on the right medicines to where I haven't shed a tear in a week (a record for recent months) or felt overly anxious. I still have a few obsessive thoughts sneak in there but I've also got good friends, blog readers, wife and family to help me out. And I think I'm finally at the stage where all I'll really need to get past the anxious moments is any one of those people to talk to when I get that way.
Now some of you may not even be reading this so never mind.

Now some of you may be checking in after a long absence from this blog because it was getting too depressing. Sorry. It'll get happier now. Look happy clown clouds made of poodle fur of sugar!

Probably more frequent blogging too.

Probably.

Bye.

Weird comedy night.

2006-03-23T13:08:00.000-06:00

Had a weird night last night. It was a long day of going to my psychiatrist and getting more pills and then getting ready for the Co-Governors of Space show last night. I was feeling okay for the show but I don't really like carrying all that stuff (mic, amp, guitar, props etc.) to and from the show...but it must be done. I decided to take my night time medicine before the show which may have been a mistake. I performed well but as soon as I was done, I was down and very tired. I suddenly was very gloomy and doomy. I couldn't see doing another show. I just wanted to go home and sleep for a long time. Cathy said, "Maybe next week, you take the pills after the show." Probably a good idea. Anyway the show went really well, I performed really well, all the acts were funny, but I didn't care at all. I scooped up my stuff and my wife and we left. I fell asleep quickly. Last night I dreamt that I was in some kind of race and did surprisingly well. In the dream, I decided to run this long distance race twice, just for the hell of it. Turns out I ran it twice in the time that it took everyone else to do it once. Who knows what that means? Then I had another dream where some young happy girl was waving the Shel Silverstein book "A Light in the Attic" at me as if to say, you should read this. So this morning I did what my dreams told me to do. I went jogging. I didn't run long and fast like in the dream. I stopped and walked a bunch of times. I guess I'm out of shape. Then when I got home and looked at the book shelf to see my copy of "A Light in the Attic" I thought, "why not?" and I got up and got it.
I opened the book and inside it was my birth certificate. I didn't have any idea that my birth certificate was lost, let alone that it was in that book. I guess the dreams were telling me to do stuff I should do. Then I watched "on demand" television for a while which included "Johnny Carson" and "'The Three Stooges".
They re-added some of my medication and I'm doing a little better today than yesterday.
Today the wife and I are going together to my therapy session.
Do you wonder how I'm doing comedy while I feel like this? Me too sometimes.

Progress

2006-03-20T21:31:00.000-06:00

The first night of the Wednesday night run at the Blarney Stone was an unexpected success. It's really great to have chosen our favorites and watch them do what we knew they could do well. It's going to be fun to watch this happen each week. This week, I'll be taking the lead hosting the show which is pretty cool. I'll be bringing back some of my old favorites gimmicks from the past.
It's a free show and the alcohol is cheap and the entertainment is solid. It's just going to get better as the weeks go by. Maybe one day we'll charge but I don't think that'll be necessary right away.
For now, it's a fun way to pass a wednesday.
We've through April booked. I just started on May today.
Progress.

What does a dog say?

2006-03-12T00:31:00.000-06:00

Good thing only our most trusted allies showed up to our show at the Cornservatory tonight. Major technical failures, no set-up time and other troubles made a rough show. Luckily, we weren't the only rough show tonight. Tonight may have been the worst CIC showcase in some time. The first group who is usually great, had a rough improv set. Then we had our awkward yelling into the booth "You said we'd have a couple minutes to set up!" moment. We had a total failure of our film projection. The playstation2 wouldn't play.Then after we were done, the host was very late getting on stage to the point that someone from the first group went up and started asking people what their favorite day of the week was. Then we found the last group standing half a block down the street laughing and talking. Next they ran down the street into the theater and performed. I heard a lot of hysterical screaming during their set. When they came downstairs after the show they said, "The audience eventually warmed up." I take that to mean that it wasn't a very good night for them either.
Oh and the CIC banner kept falling down.
Then that child was murdered in the third row.
Bad night all around.
Oh and Jesus came back and decided that he didn't want a single person in this entire world. So good luck everyone. It was a rough night for all of us.

God versus God.

2006-03-09T21:28:00.000-06:00

I must express a bit of remorse tonight. It seems that I've become increasingly more testy with my good friend, yin to my yang, Cain to my Abel (I think) Chris Hauser. I feel that I've been very rude to this guy since I've been mentally ill. And the reason is this...(He doesn't get on the internet often so I'm sure I'll talk to him before he reads this)

I want my fairy tale science fiction to be more true than his fairy tale science fiction. My God versus his God in a battle royal with no time or space limit. I'm so scared inside my brain so often that when somebody starts to convince me of something I can't take, I flip out and start to panic. Now I don't want to be forced to panic any more than I do when I'm just sitting still thinking about spiralling shapes and watching the moments angrilly tick by.

I think I figured out that my fixation with time and memories may have much to do with guilt and remorse surrounding those people and things that I feel that I've left in my past. I think I've got some object permanence issues. Yep that's right, sociologists out there. I think that Peek-a-Boo works really well on me. If I can't remember you, you don't exist. If you go around the corner, you don't exist. Oh there you are. How pleasant to see you again--DON'T LEAVE ME!! There you are, ahhhh.

Blarney Stone.

Fine and how are you?

2006-03-08T21:29:00.000-06:00

Okay, my metaphorphosis is pretty close to being done. I just need to sand off this little bit...here...and then...a little over on this edge. Honey, where'd you put the varnish? Well do we still have any of that old shelac? Okay, I'll make do with glue and spit. Okay, I'll wait for the varnish. And as soon as I get the varnish on this thing and it dries, I should be right back. The universe did a funny thing. (or "God", if you like). It seems that on Dec. 29th, it not only made me depressed but it took away (temporarily) the memory of being well and the gift that it had always given me to remember that everything was going to be fine. Okay, maybe the universe didn't remove the gift entirely as much as make me ready to love it again. That gift? Anybody out there ever read my blog and say, "Boy Chris is a flake."? What did I blog right before you said that? That's right. I blogged about some dream that was a prediction of what was going to happen to me that day. I had forgotten about that entirely until tonight. And it then occured to me that dreaming about the future is the same as your soul travelling there. And if my soul can travel to the future, then it can just as easily travel to the past. I don't think my soul wants to roam too far from home, though, so don't ask it for any time travel favors. I don't have any control over it. It's like a nocturnal emission. Call it a "Nocturnal Me-mission." Although I haven't had a dream like that since I've been sick. Maybe I'll have one tonight.

By the way, my crazy thoughts came up in group therapy today. I was completely expecting the facilitator of the group to try to shake me and say, "what the hell are you talking about?" but instead she said, "but your molecules are vibrating right here." and then she went into a pep talk on quantum physics making the whole thing nothing to worry about. What strange but effective therapy. She combined quantum physics, buddhism and general A.A. brand spirituality into the "Chris Churchill Specific" therapy method.

Weird.

Good night.

Blarney Stone. Wednesdays at 8pm.

Journals and groups.

2006-03-06T15:45:00.000-06:00

I've been going to my Intensive Outpatient Program meetings every weekday like I'm supposed to. I've started journalling again. That helps. But the weird thing is that I'm kind of starting to get the itch to get back to work. I'm feeling kind of useless. And I don't even think I mind driving the trolley. Weird. I mean, I'm not excited about it but I think I can do it.
Yesterday, I went to Scott's along with Iva and we worked on our show for Saturday. It was pretty easy and Iva did most of the work...so it was even easier.
I woke up yesterday and a little today with my fear of time passing again. But after I went to group and got home, I wrote about it and felt pretty good for a little bit. There's nothing I can do about it, obviously. It won't change the rate of time by me watching it go. I think it might have a lot to do with two things. Missing my family. Watching more of my families lives tick by in Kansas City. I feel kind of sad and kind of guilty about it. Also there's the fear of not getting any of my goals done. If I could just get ahead of the game for once, maybe I'd feel a little differently.

That's why people should come to The Blarney Stone starting March 15th at 8pm and watch the Co-Governors of Space and other groups.

But seriously, I'm nervous and depressed.

But also...come see our group.

NOW!

2006-03-04T22:31:00.000-06:00

At the suggestion of my Co-Governor Hauzor the Christo-4, I have purchased the audio book of "The Power of Now" by a guy who went so crazy that he went sane. So sane that he helps the crazy. Now having made peace with the fact that I have gone so crazy that I will reach a higher level of sane, I am excited to start listening to this. I got through the introduction in the shower tonight. In the introduction the author, Eckhart Tolle, explains how he went so crazy and how crazy he went. Sure was crazy. So was I (and sometimes I still am) so I could identify a lot with him.
Well, I've been worried about infinity and the passage of time (I go back and forth with that). A seven hour audio book is close to infinity and it sure passes a lot of time. So I guess it's a good excercise as well as good information.
Now, again the title of the book is "The Power of Now" which is something a guy like me with my problems needs to know about. But if "Now" is old hat to the reader of this blog, then let me suggest something else. The power of March 15th at the Blarney Stone in Wrigleyville. The Co-Governors of Space will be there teaching the Koans of Komedy and the audience will respond as a whole with one hand clapping.

NOW!

later.

Medication and Co-Govs.

2006-03-01T21:10:00.000-06:00

It's amazing what the right medicine can do. Without it, I couldn't see the point in living or how we're not all being obliterated by infinitiy. With the right medication, I feel a lot better. In fact, I can kind of laugh about the idea of any kind of doom scenario. I'm not out of the woods but I feel much better now than I did even four days ago.
I'm growing my chest hair out and I intend to wear it in a B-52 hairstyle.
I think everyone should be aware that the Co-Governors of Space are still moving ever closer to an awesome weekly showcase at the Blarney Stone. We have a lot of our favorite local comedians lined up to perform along with some other groups before we perform. This thing is snowballing. It should be a good thing if it keeps up like this.
You know what I figured out that I've been missing? Some thing that I've been forgetting about the passage of time is a thing called familiarity. Couldn't get used to anything without the passage of time. That's a pretty good incentive to be in the present moment.
Another great incentive is if you find the present moment to be at 8pm on a Wednesday starting March 15th, you should be in the present moment and in the Blarney Stone in Wrigleyville for some Co-Governors of Space action!
And also, God, whatever it is (and I know this leaves the atheists out) is good and wonderful and powerful and in control and contains everything, dimension, time, thought, reality in all realities. But if you don't find that to be entertaining enough, then come on down to the Blarney Stone at 8pm on Wednesdays starting March 15th!

Amazing what the right meds can do.

Nuts to me!

2006-02-28T15:41:00.000-06:00

I went to my first "intensive outpatient" group therapy sessions today. Good day. Tomorrow I go to that then my therapist. Then the next day I do the group therapy then I go to my psychiatrist. Then after that, I go to group therapy followed by running in a tight circle until morning or I fall down. After that...the weekend.
I'm starting to feel pretty good most of the time now. But I'm still hung up on time. But one thing I'm learning is that when I picture the passage of time, I'm picturing that when one moment is gone, everything in that moment is gone which is untrue. Not only is everything still around, I believe we'll all always be around...of course that just leads me back into the infinity problems but that's where this android brain just has to lift that loop out and put it into the "paradox" box and not worry too much about it. I still believe that all time is always happening and that we just can't access it all in our limitted physical form and lifetime and but that's pretty boring stuff to people reading a blog

Anyway, the important thing is that the Co-Governors of Space have a new gig. Apparently my Co-Governor McNultroid has made diplomatic relations for the purpose of establishing a base at "The Blarney Stone" in Wrigleyville. It starts in March and has an open run on Wednesdays at 8pm.
I like squirrels...until they start to advance on me.

I stubbed my brain.

2006-02-26T17:43:00.000-06:00

Hey everybody who reads this,
I regret to inform all of you by blog (especially those of you who live across the hall from me) but I just got out of the hospital for being depressed. Turns out I'm bi-polar (third time I've typed that last sentence today). Life is altogether too complicated for a person to try and know everything about but goddangit I keep trying.
To Julia, Cathy and I are sorry we didn't tell you but we were preoccupied. We really would have told you (living across the hall and being a good "crisis buddy" and all), but I was in the hospital and Cathy was with me when she could be.
Ed, Ed Potatoe Head...I know you continue to encourage me about the present but you did that back then and this is now...No...wait THAT was then and THIS is now...wait THAAAAT was THEN and THIIIIIISSS was--d'oh!
And that's why I went to the hospital. I'm still not %100 but I'm getting better. I think the meds might work this time. If not, I guess I try try again.
Oh...todays wild theory...
Same one as before I think:

All the moments are still there you just can't access them all right now...Ouch...that's hospital talk.

That's it for today.

2006-02-21T13:06:00.000-06:00

I went to my psychologist today after having picked up "Scientific American: Special Edition. A Matter of Time." Turns out Scientific American is thinking about time too. Good to know.
Anyway, after a fruitful hour with my therapist I can report some progress but most importantly, I can report that I almost made my therapist cry. I almost made my therapist cry.
She covered her face and told me that I almost made her weep.
That's how bad my childhood was apparently. Or at least some parts of it.
Next session, I'm going to punch her and see what happens.
(No. Not really, FBI. Joke.)

Okay so that's it for today.

Here's another wild theory.

2006-02-20T23:10:00.000-06:00

So because of parallel universes, not only is everything you're doing, being replicated infinitely, but also the thing you just did that you really enjoyed doing is being done again and again and again and that's you doing it so smile a little bigger next time because you're not just enjoying it a little bit. Your enjoyment is infinite.
And if you don't believe it's you, just wait till you die and find out that all you have to do is be curious about something and you're living it. Then you're really going where you want to go, huh?
But then there are also those alternate realities where you get charged five dollars every time you do anything. Not just anything fun but anything. Take a left? Five dollars! Smiling? That'll be a fin! Don't have five dollars? That's half a sawbuck!
Parallel universes allow you to never say goodbye to your favorite moments...unless you want to.
OUT.

Wild Theory-The Physics Gods

2006-02-19T00:25:00.000-06:00

Hey everybody,
Here's another wild theory. I'm very surprised that anyone actually read my blog yesterday, considering that I hadn't posted anything for ten days. Happily, there's Ed, Julia and Scott. Enough humanity. Here's wild theory.

I believe that the best way to open your mind to the understanding of different dimensions that a human brain isn't set up to understand (such as a universe with a different kind of time or none at all)is to think of it in terms of the gods of Greek and Roman mythology. Like want to think of a different kind of time? Think of how Dave Lateral Time would act at a party with Steve Circular Space. It makes the events of that universe act like a hollow tube of probability or a series of disjointed rings.

What about Billy Blue Gravity? I don't even know what that means. But I'll bet if I found a way to define colors relationship to the gravity I'm in, for instance, something like the usage of the doppler red/blue shift, I could figure out what blue gravity is and from there I could personify it and see how Billy Blue Gravity parties with his little brother Jimmy No Electro-magnetism. I would imagine that that whole universe would collapse on itself.

But could something happen from there? I don't know. I don't think the same rules apply in a "blue-hole".

Better chemistry throug living, I always say.

I saw Nanny McPhee tonight. Great movie.

Real! Wild! Theories!

2006-02-17T17:43:00.000-06:00

Chris' Wild Theories is finally going to live up to it's name.Here's the first one:

You know that old rhetorical question...or is it a riddle...where they ask you, "Hey, dude. Do you think God could make a thing so heavy that even he couldn't lift it?" And all the stoners ponder and wonder until there's druel in the dorito bag. Well I think I figured out the answer. And if someone else already figured it out, I still figured it out myself. The answer is this: "Yes, God could do that. And then he'd lift it."
The reason for that is that in order to be God, God must be able to do the impossible. And by 1.)building a thing he couldn't lift (which should be impossible) 2.)lifting a thing that it's impossible to lift (which should be impossible, God has done two impossibles. And it gets deeper than that, if you want to go crazy.

Could God make a time so far away that even He was never and will never be there? Yes and then He did it.

Could God make a space so vast that not even He could be everywhere in it? Yes and then he did it.

Could God write a blog so incomprehensible that even Santa couldn't follow it? Yes.

I believe I have changed as a person due to my recent/current depression episode (by the way I'm technically bi-polar II) so expect more wild theories. It's what I do when the Ativan is working.

Out.

Hello friends.

2006-02-07T19:45:00.000-06:00

Hey everybody.
Calm down.
I don't know if you guys had a pool going on my fate or what but I'll just fill you in. I'm okay. I'm not great. I'm not terrible. I'm okay for now.
More importantly. This thursday and friday I will be performing along with my group "The Co-Governors of Space" at the Lincoln Lodge 4008 n. Lincoln at 9pm. See some of our films and some of our live stuff. Oh and my doctor might be there, so you all can ask him what's wrong with me. Or I guess you could talk to me.
Good night and good luck.

Sleep and yoga.

2006-01-27T15:12:00.000-06:00

Sure enough, nervously walking around trying to figure out what to eat with my pills. I went with oatmeal. I hear it's high in B vitamins and if there is a deficiency in B vitamins, you'll be more prone to getting depressed. This morning my wife informed me that, A.) I slept a lot better last night than I had in a while...new sleepy/mood stabilizer pills, and B.) that there was a yoga class at the gym at 1pm. After she left, I did the oatmeal and pills special and went back to sleep listening to Howard Stern on Sirius satellite radio. When it was over and "The Rap-up Show" was happening I woke up for good. I got a call from Scott and managed to get to the gym for the yoga class.
That really was the first time I'd done an entire hour of yoga with the guidance of an instructor. It felt pretty good. Of course, I kept questioning "Is this the point?" "No." Disappointment. "Am I better yet?" "No." I'm kind of impatient. And I kept wandering where my pic-a-nic basket was.
So, when the class was over, I went back into the gym and did 20 minutes on an eliptical and got my stuff and left.
I should call Scott. Maybe we'll hang out. I've found evenings are much better for me than day time right now.
Oh yeah, I don't remember if I put this in my last blog but, my psychiatrist wants me to call and get evaluated for an intensive outpatient group therapy program that would go three days a week for three hours a day. I probably will but I've got shit to do right now. (And the demon inside me says, "not that any of the other stuff matters." Oooh I hate that guy."
I should probably do it. As much as I don't want to, I should do it.
OK
Signing off.

Enfrightenment...The Musical.

2006-01-26T21:21:00.000-06:00

So I'm just this crazy:
Remember what I told you about "my man Chopra". Fuck that guy. I listened to the full five hours of "How to Know God" and by 4 and a half hours in I was shaking and panicking like an 82' ford pickup that had never had it's oil changed. Luckily, right about then, Chris Hauser called (in a very Jedi-like fashion) and said he felt like he should call me. I picked up as many pieces of my brain as I could find and jammed them into the ripped bag of my heart and stuffed them in my pocket and then I went to Chris' Haus...apartment.
I've found that talking about it and debating my weird philosophical problems with others helps at least until we're done talking. I've also found that, for now, I need to take all the medicine that the doctor will give me. I am finding the power of now and the unreality of eternity...which is good. I figured out (philosophically, anyway) that eternity is only a mathematical extraction but really has no basis in real life. Here's what I mean.
If time is infinite then at least one of these two things must happen (or not happen). 1. If time extends infinitely behind you, then you can never have gotten hear because you'll always be waiting for that bus that's never going to end it's route. AND/OR 2. If time extends eternally ahead of you, then you never get to infinity, which means it never exists.
There's also the idea that the ... never mind this is the part I don't want to share with anyone, lest I passive aggressively cut the legs out from under my own theory.

A friend said that maybe all this pain I'm going through right now is good. Like it was a form of "enlightenment". I don't know about all that but it sure is changing me, little by little.
For the record, I'm not looking at this as being "important" or "special" or "unique" or "better than ?". I'm just looking at this as being where I'm at.

By the way, there's also infinite smallness and infinite largeness which prevents the possibility of anything existing at all anyway. So reality's kind of what you make of it.

I will forget all of this in the morning when I'm anxiously wandering around my apartment trying to decide what to eat with my pills.

By the way, I saw my psychologist for the first time today. Surprise! This may have little to do with the state of reality and the universe. It might have to do with some shortcoming in my upbringing. Huh. I guess I should've known that. Anyway, the psychologist appears to be a sharp woman who was cutting through all the bullshit that my brain is distracting me with.

Deepak, meet the Rooster.

2006-01-24T05:12:00.000-06:00

How is everybody? Seriously, if everyone could answer at once, that would explain the noise outside my window. But, alas, it is just the wind. I have found a moment of clarity here so that I can spout some nonsense. Interesting how that works for me, Chris Churchill. I have slipped from the claws of insanity for just long enough to spout some nonsense. Is that backwards? I've been worried a lot lately that I'm not going to get better. I'm still worried. But that's what makes me do whatever I can to try to get better. I've been excercising a lot. Listening to my man Deepak Chopra. He manages to say the right thing. I'm not going to say what the most recent realization was for me because it seems that when i do, it suddenly becomes something that I find untrue due to a.) my instant paranoia that everyone will need me to prove it to them and b.) my passive aggressive tendencies which cause me to say "fuck you, I'm not going to prove it. In fact, I don't believe it. Back to being sad and panicked."
I've been worried that I'll never feel like having fun again and therefore I'd never feel like being funny, which is why I moved to Chicago in the first place. In my recent soul searching I've found that I miss my family, I'm somewhat ashamed of my station in life (not that driving trolleys isn't fun), and that I need to get back to school and get a real job that helps people.
So, as a solution, I've had pieces of my family chopped off and sent (along with my college transcripts) to the trolley barn so that they'll fire me (which is the only way I'd ever leave). Then I'll take that package to college and then I'll win college and they'll give me the Captain College College Captain Hat.
The biggest problem with me right this minute is that I can't get a real nights sleep. I mean I guess six hours is pretty normal for most people but falling to sleep at 10:30 and waking up at 4:15 wide awake and ready for a day of wishing I was asleep is a little tough to take after a while. The doctor even gave me some sleeping pills. They help me fall asleep but they don't help me stay asleep.
This morning I got up and found the rooster was still drinking at the bar. I said, "Hey, you got two hours before you have to wake everyone else up." The Rooster said, "Man. I like drinking now. You like getting up early now. Let's switch." I said, "Hopefully this is only temporary." and the rooster just laughed. "That's what I thought...at first. Do you know how long I've been 'the rooster'?" Pause. Twitch of my lip. "No." Rooster said. "I can't remember. I'm drunk."

That'll have to be expounded upon and performed at the next Co-Governors of Space appearance.

The man with the Space Flu,
Out!

Investigating food.

2006-01-20T09:54:00.000-06:00

I've figured out (and medical websites have backed me up) that to fix my sinus issues, I need to avoid dairy.
To reduce my anxiety and depression etc, I need to elminate caffeine and do my best to eliminate regular old sugar...oh and saturated fats too (blood pressure you know).
I never realized how much my diet revolved around those things until I saw the list of things that those things are in. Turns out it was just a list of everything I ate yesterday.
So yesterday I had sugar in my cereal. Had hotdogs and fries for lunch along with a glass of cherry coke. Dinner yesterday was a couple ham sandwiches. So apparently bread and anything based on flour (like my hot dog buns) is a sugar problem because the flour breaks down into sugars.
So today:
Fish.
I think we have some peas.
Water.
And if I can find anything else that avoids sugar, caffeine and saturate fats, I'll eat that.

Oh and my doctor said if I just excercised, half my problem would be gone.
Meanwhile last night I had a mild episode where I was obsessing on a fear of infinity and feeling of worthlessness for the present moment because of that fear. After I took some medicine to help me sleep and to relax a bit, I began to see the connection between that feeling and feeling guilty for having left my family in Kansas City nine years ago. Because that fear in my head leaves me almost picturing an accelerating rate of time like an out of control waterslide and in these times when I picture this, I'm actually feeling lonely and even a kind of guilt for leaving people behind...like my wife. And when I realized that, I kind of relaxed a bit. Now is filled with the same people and love that eternity will be. So why not enjoy now. You can fully invest in it.

What did the buddhist say when ordering his hot dog? Make me one with everything.
I don't like that joke. I don't like the one with everything thing some days.

I'm about to get on the bike. I've been doing the pushups that Scott showed me to do.

Osage Pride!

2006-01-18T20:38:00.001-06:00

Anybody out there know anything about tracking your ancestry in a way that's proves Native American ancestry in the eyes of the government? Because, I've had it. I'm done paying for stuff. Sure, my great-great-great-great grandfather Claremore (for whom Claremore, Oklahoma is named) signed some treaties that were damaging to his Osage brothers. But, hey, if it had been a good treaty, would it have been honored? Nope. Three one fourth of my ancestry would have taken good advantage of them and stolen their land. One eighth of my ancestry would have been living it up next to the Clampetts, The Hatfields and the McCoys. And half of me would have been up in Canada treating blacks and Native Americans fairly because Canada is, as you know, "Frozen Paradise".
I already know what my native american name would be. Laughing Horse. Perfect, huh? The problem with native american names are that most of your really good friends could end up with your same first name. For instance, I like to laugh and joke and I like other people who laugh and joke. Therefore most of my friends would be Laughing Something. If I was an engineer, I'd be Precise Beaver. And any friends of mine that wanted to keep their jobs would also have the first name of Precise. Right? Apparently, I did have a great-great uncle named "Bad Tempered Buffalo". I don't know why but I've got this idea that he was actually a Klingon.
So if anyone has any ideas or knows anyone else who has had to do this, let me know. I'm pretty sure the reason why I'm still poor is that my grandfather started life at a disadvantage (being a half-breed) which led to my dad starting life at a disadvantage, leading to me and my siblings having the same disadvantage. And if I keep telling myself that, maybe I wouldn't feel so bad about still driving trolleys for a living.
By the way, folks. When I'm fully reconnected to my Osage roots, I'm blaming all of you all the time for me not having a full class of Kahlua and cream in front of me when I'm at the bar. And I won't be paying any loans back either.
Take that whitey.

Work=Play.

2006-01-17T05:15:00.000-06:00

You ever spend too much time with someone and then find out you're going to have to spend more time with them? Yesterday after, I don't know, the 4th or 5th day of seeing Scott McNulty and Chris Hauser, we said, "Hey, let's don't get together tomorrow."
Good idea, right? We just crammed to put a show together. We successfully performed it. We also shot and editted about five short films in a week. (I mean really short films.) So we have been pretty stuck together for the last few days.
Well, yesterday we were informed that new opportunities to perform are being offered and opportunities to have more opportunities to perform have popped up. Two separate venues want a video.
Sooooo.
I guess the three of us will get together today. And eventually, F. Tyler (who has been away for two weeks) will join us. Unfortunately, the lovely and talented Iva won't be able to join us as she is the only Co-Governor of Space with a job. And hers is a real job helping real people attain financial freedom well before the age of 65. That was my diplomatic way of saying she's in some money-related field...which often sounds so dirty. So, she can't run around town like a lost kindergartner who doesn't miss his family. (If my family is reading...yes, I do miss MY family. It's a metaphor.)
It really feels irresponsible, what we're doing. Taking cameras around in the parks and other places where we have access to film ourselves pretending. But, ultimately, if I could do this and bring in some money doing it, that would be sweet. So I should get over the feeling of "What are we doing? We're grown-ups."
Can I tell you why I'm able to do this?
Because my wife is cooler than yours, everybody. Take that Earth. And you know how I know that she's better than everybody? The Superman pajamas that she wears. Excellent. She doesn't even know Superman like all you comic book officianados out there. But that's not why she wears it. She wears it so that I'll remember she's Super...for real. She let's me stay home and play with my friends until trolley work comes back in the spring.
Take that hard working people around the world! Take that!

Nothing beats wet breasts...even in comedy.

2006-01-15T02:53:00.000-06:00

So "The Co-Governors of Space" made an audience laugh heartily last night. And it was all very satisfying, deep laughter. But more than laughter there was surprise and wonder. Then after we presented our 7 minute sketch, someone else came out and presented laughter that was based on something I've seen a thousand times. That would be, either a child or an old person saying something precocious. Precocious doesn't do it for me anymore. Adults playing children rarely does it for me anymore. Now pepper in with that laughter, the fact that they were three pretty blonde girls ACTING like little girls. Four judges penises prick up. One judges penis stays still. But he likes the kitsch, the fetishism of pretty blonde girls acting like little girls.
Next, the dancing...oh the dancing! Why do women always dance in their "best" sketches? And it's always the "funniest" time to dance when it's kids or the elderly or the retarded that are dancing...you know people who don't normally dance like they do on BET.
So far we've got a slumber party followed by a drill team routine. I personally, already knew we'd lost this contest to jailbait. Because audiences fall for it because they've seen it before because every female comedian who fits in the category of mediocre has done this sketch with minor tweaks, be it the environment or the circumstances at which the scene begins. It's the same scene. It's Molly Shannon who I could never stand and all her followers who realized that as long as nobody catches them being unoriginal, they're safe to keep doing it.
Don, I'm telling your wife. There's no way she would have thought what they did was intelligent, memorable, clever or funny. She may have thought, as my wife and my colleague Iva thought, that scenes like that put women in comedy back ten years and women in general back even further. Because those are the types of women that let men feel big and strong and make women appear to have gone back to the kitchen, bedroom and laundryroom.
Then they poured water on their shirts. Cheap and easy. You want five men to vote for you? Be a blond in a wet t-shirt. Or better yet, be three of them.
Well at least the seven minutes is up...what? You mean, they can just go on until their done? Well we had fourteen minutes of material prepared, maybe we should have done all of it. Apparently the time limit was just a suggestion. They clocked in at over nine minutes.
Then cliche' was added to cliche' when, for no good reason, nothing that advanced the scene anyway, a stereotype of an ebonic speaking "hood" dweller, walked on and made some wisecracks.
Now, don't get me wrong. I was under no illusions at anytime. When I saw them walk on stage dressed the way they were and carrying identical buckets, I knew we had lost the competition because that's what people fall for. I just had hoped that the judges wouldn't be swayed so easily.
Our show was a half-live have filmed sketch leading into another sketch. The night was for sketch and improv. There was no indication that it was live sketch that was required. Ours was sketch. It was just that half of it was on tape. Oh and our female is an investment banker with a deeply intelligent and sardonice sense of humor who wouldn't demean herself the way those girls did for a cheap thrill (I won't even say laugh, because when the water came down, I looked at the judges and they weren't laughing. They were cheering as if they were at a strip club).
I really didn't come into this contest expecting to win...so that was fulfilled. But what I didn't expect was to feel that we deserved to win. Yes, the room may have been louder for the nine minute fetish show, but it was laughter along with incredulous screams and cheers of horny men. I could have arranged to show that too, had I known that the judges would be so easily swayed by tits.
If I sound bitter, it's because I am. It's obvious that ours was funnier in a deeper way than theirs and I assume, as with much of my humor and that of people I'm associated with, it'll only take a few days and then everyone (judges included) will only still be laughing at our films running in their heads. Then when their done laughing, they'll run the other groups scene and then run to the restroom to rub one out. All I'm saying is that perhaps the four heterosexual men were carried away with the gimmick, the spectacle and were able to stay with it for nine minutes for the same reason I was able to stand by my window in an awkward physical position with venetian blinds grinding into my forehead and face for three hours. That reason is...I might see boobs!

Good energy though.

Still love you Don.

On an up note, we in "The Co-Governors of Space" came away from the experience feeling more motivated than ever to fight against the mediocre and sabotage the machine of Chicago comedy. And we all also agreed that we had to proud of our integrity and dignity. Before I turn into Wilfred Brimley, I'd better sign off.

g'night.

Live Nude Girls! Free Beer!

2006-01-14T06:00:00.000-06:00

An interesting thing is seeming to happen to me. All those books about how the laws of the universe work and what God's doing and how quantum physics and spirituality are very close to the same thing are losing their luster in my eyes. Suddenly, I'm becoming more interested in the game of "My Life" which includes going back to school, watching television, playing trivia, driving a trolley (when the work is there), and (oddly enough) limitted doses of pop-culture. It's weird to purposefully re-wrap yourself up in the stuff you thought you were too smart for previously.
Don't get me wrong. I'm going to get around to finishing those Dalai Lama books. Because he laughs a lot. And so do I when all is normal with me. And I'm going to get around to my back log of Discover and Scientific American magazines that I have strewn about my apartment. However, I will be doing so with much less zeal than before. You know why? Because after nearly three weeks of dealing with this latest anxiety/depression episode, it occured to me that I don't really need to know why or how the universe works...just that it does and that the reason I'm in it is to be in it not to try my hardest to be on the outside looking in.
Sorry this post isn't funny. I'm just feeling sober and I'm enjoying the calmness of my apartment this morning as I'm writing this.
I should be back to posting more regularly pretty soon.

Workin' it out! Here's how it is!

2006-01-10T05:10:00.001-06:00

Here's how it is:

Infinity. Extends in every direction from you. That makes you the middle of the universe.
Eternity. Extends in both directions from you. That makes you the middle of time.
So now do you feel special, you whiner? You're in the center of everything and you're all, "boo-hoo. I can't drive a trolley anymore today."
Oh and don't worry about God feeling bad because he's been around forever and should be bored out of his mind by now.
God doesn't feel happy or sad. That's human stuff. God just is. And God is Love. Love can laugh, but it doesn't have to. Love can cry but it doesn't need to. Love is simply in control and that's why live by those rules in our relationships. Except my friend Santa. Santa has found a loophole and lives in complete indifference, which is admirable...if only for the sheer effort it must take to be indifferent the suffering of that puppy that's tangled in your back hair. Please, Santa, let me help the puppy!
And as far as feeling insignificant goes? Think of this. The scientists believe that parallel universes really exist and they are infinite. And that means that everytime you make someone laugh, you make an infinite number of people laugh.
Also, you're probably affecting those out there who may have six noses and ambulate with bounces on a wet blobby appendage because they have something kind of like that where they're from.

Don't worry about losing track of your friends or family in the great beyond. You're entangled by your own interest in them. That's why people who believe in Heaven go there. Others go to Chucky Cheese or that Barnes and Noble on Touhy. You're outside of time picking and choosing pieces of infinity and eternity that interests you and yours and theirs with the blobby appendage.

So now I feel better.
Wellbutrin. I'm losing weight, I'm sleeping 4 hours a night, and I'm able to work some shit out!

To the present and beyond.

2006-01-05T12:49:00.000-06:00

Saw the psychiatrist yesterday. He and I talked and I decided I like him. The "problem" that makes me feel bad everyday is a different one which tells me that it's not real. The problem isn't there. But the fear is. Fear of what?

Fear of waterslides!

You ever been on one of those things? They're fast! And you can only go one at a time in some of them, which I think is terribly lonely! I want my wife on the slider thing with me and in slider things around me I want my friends and family. And every so often someone absolutely must wink at me knowingly like, "It's cool." Then at the end, there's God saying "Get out of the way! There's more people sliding through. And then we all have cheese fries." "Cheese fries? I don't like cheese fries." "I was just testing you. You just exerted your freedom! Good job!" "What's the point of that?" "No point. Just do what you want and invite who you please and if they aren't here, make them up and I'll make them real." "You mean I have to decide what I want to do?" "Yes. Or you won't do anything." "What if I decide not to do anything." "Everybody's got to take a break sometimes. You've got all the time there is. Sit there forever if you want. There'll still be more forever after that. Let me know if you need anything." "I need peace and love in my heart." "There you go."

And I hate dogs!

They bark and bark and growl and make the muscles in you back tense up. Also you feel like you're having a heart attack some of the time. I don't know why those dogs won't just let me enjoy myself.

And I don't like being lost.

Because then you don't know who you are or where you are or why you are. It just occured to me that I'm on the el going downtown to work at a bank with a bunch of other spiritual seekers when it has just become painfully obvious that I don't want to work. I just want to bang on the drum all day. Seriously. I'm going to fuck around until I'm tired of fucking around and then I'll keep doing it. Building patterns, riding trains of thought and then twisting them at the end or in the middle so that nobody forgets that it could happen. I don't know what it is, but I have it and a lot of people don't. Even on the spiritual plane, I'm just not a 9 to 5er.

I heard that since the universe expands infinitely in every direction and time also expands infinitely in every direction that we're all in the center of the universe, which feels like the protection of a fluffy comforter when you're in the right mindset. When you're in the wrong mind set, you could feel trapped or drowning or falling uncontrollably.

And also don't forget:
I am he as you are me and you are she and we are all together.

So hello me. Nice to meet me. Strange how different than me you look but it's nice to bump into you again. Why certainly, I tip my hat to you. Do you like my new outfit. You look simply splendid. How many dwarves in drag did it take to tighten your corset? Oh you don't know what a corset is, you're just like that?

To the present.

A depressed person reaquainting himself with you all.

2006-01-03T11:53:00.000-06:00

With Scott over my shoulder, I am blogging to report that I am now medicated. This is a facilitated blog. If I start to cry uncontrollable during this post, Scott will be forced to take my crown and sceptre and finish my sentences. Sure enough, depression. I've had it spear me in the chest before. It tends to be like a seven year itch. Don't let the glib style with which I am typing, fool you. I'm very sad and scared right now. Because that's what depression is. But I'm medicated. Wellbutrin and some anti-anxiety thing. I went to the emergency room a couple nights ago and considered being admitted but it was a holiday weekend, I would have just been lonely for four days not getting help. So I'm medicated and I'll be meeting my psychiatrist on Wednesday.
So here's the spectre in my head that preventing me from enjoying life:
I can't feel really into any moment partially because I overanalyze everything and I can't seem to stop overanalyzing it.
I started to think about infinity and boredom and all that leading to desperate sadness. This all came to a head when i finished chapter one of the new Dalai Lama book which I had to put down and try to finish the work day. This makes me scared and sad. Now I'm trying to find some positive opposites of these thoughts to guide me back to the planet.
Why would infinity have to be boring? (Maybe not. If there are also an infinite different things to be that can do an infinite number of things. Mathematically, it seems to work out.)
Is God, having been around forever and forever more, happy? Because if He's not, what chance do any of us have? (My mom said, "You can't think of God as happy or sad. God just is." And then there are two other things you must think about when it comes to God. Omni-present...that should keep it busy and all-powerful which means God is powerful enough to stave off sadness and just be joyful. Also, if there's any Joy in the universe then God couldn't make any if He didn't have any.) (By the way I'm fully aware that I'm going with the "HE" as opposed to "She". I like "IT" or "They". One cool thing about the universe would be if God just changed jobs all the time. Like next week, it's Milton Berle and suddenly the universe has an infinite penis.
Oh, and God is Love. Which means that the very fabric of reality is love. Which means that I shouldn't worry too much about Happy as loved and loving)
I also recently was given an image that fucked me up. The idea that we are all little candles and every once in a while, we go back to the source which is like the Sun and it feels great in there and you stay until you feel like you want to leave. Death and rebirth ad infinitum seems dreadfully boring. But does it have to be. You only do these things when you decide to. And if you are cloaked in love and filled with love, the boredom, the sadness, the happiness should be secondary...or irrellevant. Weird.
I got going with the thought of "why enjoy life?" or "why enjoy this moment?" or rather "what's the purpose?" Why is this life worth living when there is an infinite number of lives out there doing other cooler stuff? (First of all, they're probably all jealous of me and my cool couch laying, trolley driving, trying to make people laugh life) But really, it's just a feeling that everything and every experience is lifeless and worthless. The quandry is, if I believe that I'm special and this life is special then that means that it's got to be solitary and alone in the universe with an afterlife based on this life that gets boring (or does it?) or if I believe that this life isn't special because of the infinite variety in the universe, then that makes my potential future comedy shows seem pretty pointless.

The Television is on. The Birdman of Alcatraz just said, "The First duty of life is to live." If God or the universe is a general whose mission is to live, than I have to follow that call myself I guess.

I would love to know or at least believe that the things we do here do carry on into the future after we're gone. That the people we love will continue with us when we all move on. Maybe not, "Boy you sure changed the world with that incredible body of work you built up during your life!" but rather, "Boy that sure was a very 'Chris' life you lived and we're very glad to be with you now where those trends and feelings and vibes carry on."

"Will I always be me?" "Only if you want to be?" "Then what will I be?" "Whatever you want?"

Maybe that's why there's a heaven and a hell. Maybe we're spiritually careening in one of those directions or another and only miracles and love can change the trajectories.

By the way, lest any of you try to cut Jesus or God out of this equation by saying, "It's the anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication you're on that's helping you" remember that Jesus said, "Greater things than I have done, so shall ye also do."

I tried to think of "mission statements" or "prime directives" from which to live my life last night. I came up with "Love God. Love Each Other. Love Yourself." But there seems to be a lot of life left out when you just follow those three. Like how can I enjoy humor that is based on hurting someones feelings or showing them to be foolish? Toughlove? And how can i justify just enjoying living? That's loving yourself and God? No. It's just enjoying existing. Enjoying creation.

Is the ultimate reason why to live, "why not?" That seems a little bleak and depressing. What about, "You wanted to be here." I'm not sure if I'm fully committed to that idea. All I know is that I hope that, greater than cyber space, is the timeless, spaceless space that we will go to and that we're all there together fully confident that we are there together by choice. And I've got to get some Godlove showers soon. I know there's got to be a pill for that.

It tolls for thee and tolls and tolls...

2005-12-27T21:34:00.000-06:00

I enjoyed the Christmas Holiday. Although, I'm having some issues right now regarding the passage of time. I sometimes get locked in on the fact that we're just careening forward from moment to moment with no stopping. So much so that I don't enjoy any of the moments along the way. Which makes Christmas tough. Or was it Christmas being tough that caused me to feel this way. I do have a strong tendency to obscure the things that really upset me with bizarre metaphysical problems.
For instance:
In the past, when I was extremely angry and hurt by two separate females on two separate occasions, I didn't allow myself to get upset at them. I found that it was easier to obsess on (in one case) that female's past and (in the other case) fear of death. Both occasions left me reliant on psychiatric medication for a while.
Could it be that I'm upset about something else that I'm extremely frightened to admit being upset about? Probably. Because you know, to admit that I'm scared about certain things, might lead to admitting I'm scared about certain things. I'm thinking that the obvious issue is still my age versus the things that I've done in my life. Now, if I was fully invested in some sort of belief in something more than this life or in there not being anything else outside of this life--
(Someone's honking outside my window and I want to kill them. I'll bet it's a cab driver.)
then I could--
--honk again. Okay now I interrupt this blog to make a stink. And here's what happened. I opened the blinds and looked downstairs. At this point I'm in a long sleeve t-shirt and my cotton briefs. The shirt is dotted with powdered sugar from the Christmas cookies that I finished off in bed. Down in the circular driveway of my apartment building was a silver PT Cruiser. Which, by the way, is the same type of car that the wife and I were forced to accept as a rental this Christmas vacation in Kansas City. The immediately spotted me looking down at them. Was it the glowing white powder on my shirt? Or the fact that I was staring at them while wearing my underwear? Hard to tell. Anyway, they started trying to talk to me. At this point in the retelling, I imagine that this part of the story could have turned out badly. What if they were just trying to mess with me and then kill me? They know where I live, you know.
Anyway, I decided to open the window and talk to them. For some reason my voice snuck out of my throat against my will in a little grunt that seemed to be ridiculously loud. I didn't ask myself for this grunt. But there it was. Grunting. So, in an effort to make sure that it was my grunt, I decided to speak to the people in the PT Cruiser if only to match my voice with the grunting voice that had just escaped me. Yep. It was me. It was my voice. I'm so loud. Especially when I just woke up from a nap, am obsessing about the passage of time and I'm blogging.
So I asked them what they were trying to accomplish. Then the opposite of what I expected happened. It was a meek, young eastern european immigrant woman being extremely apologetic about the noise. Apparently she left her cel phone in her sisters apartment and didn't trust that her sister would be able to hear her calling on the P.A. or something so she was honking at her. Sure. I don't understand the logic either, but she appeared to be in a quandry and didn't know how to resolve it. So I asked if I could let her in the building. She said please and thank and I went to look for my pants.
It was at this point that I remembered that "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans". (John Lennon said that in "Beautiful Boy".)
I went downstairs and opened the door for her and her brother who was wearing a really nice suit. Maybe they were stupid or maybe they were self-centered. Maybe they usually had the "help" drive them around. I don't know. All I know is that they said they were sorry for bothering me. I acted as if I wasn't upset...or at least that it was no big deal. We parted ways when the elevator got to my floor. I wished them a happy new year and headed back to my apartment.
It was at this point that a few things occured to me. The first of which was, "Don't ask for whom the PT Cruiser honks. It honks for thee."
Then all the things that occured to me as I was obsessing while driving my trolley in circles all day.
1.You know, maybe it's the fact that driving a trolley in circles all day is a really unavoidable chronological reminder. Instead of feeling the same as I did in the morning, I feel 8 trips to Lincoln Park later.
2. You can't have accomplished anything until it's in the past.
3. Just because you aren't currently experiencing something, doesn't mean it's not real. For instance, John O. saw a cab get towed with the driver still in it. He thought this was awesome so he chirped me on the nextel to tell me about it. That event is just as real as the stuff my other messengers (eyes, ears, etc.) were telling me about. Which means that it's okay that time passes because experience is just one small set of messengers telling you stuff you don't really need to know in the first place.
4. The older you get, the less time you have but the more you have done. Which might be why I'm obsessing over time right now. I just got older and I keep doing the same thing over and over again.
5. Worrying about the passage of time and how to live life is like going to a swimming pool and holding onto the edge of the pool instead of swimming because you don't want swimming time to ever be over. This is of course nonsense because the pool closes at six regardless of how long you hold onto the edge of the pool so you'd better just let go of the pool and swim in it.

No wonder it was a little difficult to hold conversations today.

I got the Dalai Lama's new book for my birthday and for Christmas. I sold the Christmas copy to my aunt. I should read that book.

I will probably feel much better after I get a good nights sleep. I haven't been able to get one since Christmas Eve Eve due to a cold I caught. Oh and also if I could take a dump, I'd probably feel great too.
And if I could accomplish something big...HUGE...I would just relax about the passage of time. It's as if I need to catch up with the time I've spent trying to accomplish stuff by accomplishing all the stuff I wish I'd been accomplishing all along.

Boy Forest Gump still gets me every time, by the way.

Turns out someone was on my side.

2005-12-14T20:34:00.000-06:00

Remember that whole lawn furniture as parking place holder blog? Someone must have agreed with me. I was walking back from parking my car and there was lawn furniture thrown up in the lawn (where it belongs).

Dang it.

That van in it's spot was probably the very van that the lawn furniture was meant to save a space for.

But I hope not.

I hope there was a bloody battle.

Something Dr. Seuss could be proud of.

Out.

Hello reader.

2005-12-14T09:19:00.000-06:00

Wondering if anybody had any opinions on my lawnchair ban proposal? (See previous post) I know there are two sides to this but let me add one more thing...I don't have any lawn furniture. I don't have anything I'd like to leave out in the snow to hold my parking spot except a 5'-4" half sicilian/half irish comedian that hates the cold.

Today I meet with Nate Herman. And today I don't consider him "Nate Herman: Double Decker Tour Guide." Rather, today, I consider him, "Nate Herman: Writer with many years of experience (Saturday Night Live and Second City) and connections." He's going to look at my potentially disastrous comedy entitled "Chair". We at "The Co-Governors of Space" are gearing up to put it up in the spring.

After I post this blog, I call him and we go get coffee. I don't even drink coffee much anymore. I tried to give up caffeine but I got really depressed when I quit all at once. My wife quit and became a nice person which is weird. I almost divorced her when she didn't yell at me for forty-five minutes because I talked through a joke on the Simpsons.

The thing is, I'm getting to the age and to the point in my journey where I'd be willing to do a few things that I don't normally do to get a little help. Later I plan on doing some heroin with Cobain. Although, I haven't heard from him in a long time.

By the way, here's the list of people I know who are doing a lot better than I am:
1. Ike Barinholtz-He's on MadTv
2. The Public Radio Sketch Comedy Group, "Schadenfreude"- Luckily, they're still nice to me.
3. Nicholas Roget-King- He's Rene' Russo's youngest son in the recent remake, "Yours Mine and Ours". In this case, I'm actually really glad that he's doing so well. His dad's a trolley driver and we all know Nicky.
4. Nate and Phil of the "House Theater"- Good guys. Former trolley drivers. And every once in a while, you see Nate under some other name hosting some infomercial.
5. Craig and Genevieve Thompson of "Infamous Commonwealth Theater"-Happily, they're getting some good reviews of late.
6. Dan Shaw of the Irish Rock group "The Tossers"- They just got signed to a big record deal with Victory Records and I'm going to his birthday party on Friday.
7. Chemically Imbalanced Comedy- Just got their first series of great reviews for a show that just happened to be the first show I was not a part of in three years.

So...I'm watching people blowin' up all around me. But I'm hoping that the current planning and laying low of "The Co-Governors of Space" will pay off when we unveil our first production in Spring...when I'm even older.

"You're older than you've ever been and now you're even older...and now you're even older...and now you're even older. You're older than you've ever been and now you're even older...and...now...you're...older...still."-They Might Be Giants

Get your lawnchairs back into storage.

2005-12-13T08:56:00.000-06:00

Because I was perusing Jackie's blog and saw her lament about parking in neighborhoods after a snowstorm and because I have my own opinions about the whole thing, here I go:
This is actually a logical, scientific explanation as to why putting lawn furniture out in the street to save a parking space is a short-sighted, selfish, stupid thing to do. I know it's tradition but so was slavery.

Okay so say, on the block where you normally park your car there are forty spaces to park if everyone parks well. And there are twenty-four hours in a day. That is a total of 960 parking hours a day. So then ten people dig out parking spots for themselves and park. Fine. Great. Now they leave at 7AM, leaving in their place, lawn furniture. They return at 7pm (because it's winter and it takes a while to get home.) That's twelve empty parking hours times ten cars. So now from the 960 parking hours, one hundred twenty have been removed. That's a decrease in total parking spaces of %12.5. OR in a more clear definition, now there are only 35 spaces in the 40 space neighborhood for each 24 hour day.
That's also assuming that only 40 cars park in the neighborhood within the 24 hours. Chances are that in those "work" hours, others are parking (if only for a few hours) in the neighborhood. So really it's between 60-80 cars probably vying for space and time with the 35 (used to be 40) times 24 carpark/hours. It's simple math, but all I can think of is Mayor Daley sarcastically giggling and then telling people to respect the parking spaces that people hoard for themselves.
This is what I want to do:
I want to get some friends and shovel the ENTIRE block and put lawn furniture on every possible parking surface so that no one can park anywhere. My answer to those who would complain: "All these spots are saved. You'll have to park in Evanston." OR: "What? These are my spots. I dug 'em up. They're mine."

That's why I'm glad my wife has a jeep. 4-wheel drive. We can park in trees. And we knock out the squirrel nests and replace them with dollhouse furniture. "Sorry, squirrels. Humans movin' in. We dug out the spot. It's ours."

My Mexican Marionette alter ego.

2005-12-11T00:54:00.000-06:00

I just did "Don't Spit the Water" for the first time tonight with my mexican marionette stand-up comedian, "Jose' Tovar". It was fun. Really challenging. I made up at least 3 new "jokes" for him on the spot. Good to know what you can do under pressure.

Jose' does racially based comedy. Here was my favorite new Jose' joke:

"Why did Turkey cross the road?
To commit genocide against the Armenians in the nineteen teens."

Not so much funny as informative.

He said, "White people dance like this." And then he danced.

He also hit on a beautiful blonde, commenting that, "The last time I was with a real, full-sized woman, I got stuck in there. All my strings were hanging out. She thought I was a tampon." (Granted, he should have said "three tampons"). After a couple weeks, she had "Tovar Shock Syndrome".

And Jose' also mimed climbing a giant black penis.

He does classy material.

Oh, and Jose' (or Josecito, as the friends of the "real" Jose' call him) also made a Wilfred Brimley joke. Jose walks funny. He said he was doing an impression of Brimley without his horse. Surprisingly, that got a laugh.

Never even got around to his Chicago Bears slandering material, his "Pig Latino" lesson, or the moment of silence for Richard Pryor (which I'm sure, in the context of the show would have gotten a laugh).

He also kept referring to me as "that fat fuck over my shoulder." And informed everyone that the reason that I was saying the same things that he was was that I was his biggest fan and I know all the words to his bits.

Jose' did a good job.

Non-productivity is fine too.

2005-12-07T20:32:00.000-06:00

Cheap wine and caffeine just aren't the same the second winter in a row. Granted, today had less of a leisurely feel to it than the wasteland of last winter. That's because winter really hasn't started yet. Sure there's snow on the ground and the temperature was zero when I woke up today but that's apparently fall in Chicago. The main difference is that I worked today. I drove a small group of Chinese business people on a very businesslike day of fun and effectiveness and keeping schedule. They were good people. I gave them a slow tour so that translation could take place and at the end I said "hsieh hsieh" which means thank you in some dialect of chinese.
Then I went home and Scott came over. He brought a big jug of wine. We very quickly decided that we weren't going to write anything today for the show in January. We filmed something really quickly. But then we decided that neither creativity nor productivity was not in the cards today. Two glasses of six dollar wine and a coke didn't seem to help the productivity so we decided, "hey, we haven't gotten together just to hang out in a long time." So we did that. We read from an astrology book about our destinies. Twice we read the article in the book that we assumed was about our birthdates and said, "That's pretty good" before we realized we were reading the wrong article about the wrong date.
We watched the last hour of "The Jerk". Hey, Ed Ed Potatoe Head! Steve Martin reminded me a little of you in that film. Then I fed him. I fed him food that he missed because he was unable to attend the employee Christmas party. Luckily I'm married to a member of the management team. They get to steal leftovers from parties and bring them home. Now everyday will be Christmas until we run out of mostacciolli and chicken.
Then I fell asleep and woke to Scott softly kissing me on my stuff. My good stuff. My excellent stinky stuff. And then I woke up again to find him on the couch and me in a chair. We were both exhausted. Weird. King of the Hill was on. Scott left.
What a great predictor of the winter ahead!

An unrequested day off from work.

2005-12-01T07:25:00.000-06:00

The peril of choosing to drive a trolley for a living is that some times your shift is cancelled and suddenly there's $100 less on your next paycheck. Well, okay after taxes $75. But still. Less money is less money. And today was the regular city tour shift.

For those who might happen upon this blog without knowing the ways of the trolley driver, the city tour is what you think it is. I drive the trolley and give the tour. A lot of people assume that that's all that a trolley driver does. It's also the thing that causes most people to come to the office and apply for the job in the first place. We show up all fresh faced and positive and we believe that "this is the job for me" because we're funny, we're charming, we're smart and, doggone it. people like us. We learn the route and the information and go out there that first day where we learn the biggest part of the job. That thing that we quickly learn is how boring and painful it is to do the city tour and how often you're not "performing" and doing "comedy" for the people so much as you're screaming and waving, trying to get their attention. Oh and don't forget how much of the time you spend talking over people who are sitting next to you and are talking to someone else at the back of the trolley. And, of course, there are cel phones (unbelievable that on a city tour anyone should be told to turn off their cellular phones) and people who think that, because they are shouting in a language that I don't understand, that I can't hear it and every so often someone will actually behave in a manner that is dangerous to themselves or others.

So, I've explained it. No one likes to do the tour after the first week of doing it. We long for the charters and some of the shuttles. We long for the pick-ups at the hotel, drop them at the boat and wait for four hours and then take them back to the hotel...because it's not work, it's hanging out somewhere getting paid. We also long for the busy shuttle days when everyone is cheerful on Michigan Avenue and, more importantly, they're generous and you make a load of money.

Nevertheless, today I would rather have worked. I work tomorrow and the next two days. Saturday is a long day...so that's good. Hopefully they'll all be well tipped charters.

I was on the way to work with my wife when I got the call. The very cheerful, new manager in training, Kevin cheerfully informed me that I was out a "C" note.

Well, this is the plan then. Last night I couldn't sleep. I was panicking about being old and not having accomplished anything. I've been considering going back to school...maybe I'll study physics. But really, what I was worried about is this self-imposed withdrawal from performing locally until "The Co-Governors of Space" get off the ground with our first sketch show and subsequent first play. I really feel like all my options are starting to fade away. It's like that scene in "The Empire Strikes Back" when the Millenium Falcon is hiding from an attack in an asteroid that they eventually figure out isn't an asteroid at all. It's the inside of a giant reptillian creature (I don't buy that premise, by the way. What's that thing eating out there? What's it breathing? Then Homer Simpson replies, "Air" to which the warden of the prison replies, "There ain't no air in space." And then Homer says, "There's an Air in Space Museum.") Anyway, the Millenium Falcon, like me suddenly realizes it may be too late to escape it's fate...this might be it. So, they begin to fly to the mouth of the cave they're in. The mouth (which is an actual giant lizard mouth) begins to close. The closer they get to the escape, the narrower the escape becomes until they just barely get out with their lives. I feel like I'm flying toward my goal but that the opportunity to escape my current situation to get to my goal is becoming narrower and narrower.

It's amazing what a whole Totinos pizza right before bed will do to your blood pressure and your sense of life passing you by. It must be the high sodium content.

So, immediately after I type this I should get to work. I'll finish the music that Chris Hauser and I worked on. I'm editting it on my computer, adding new stuff and making weird incidental music/songs to use as bumpers and as pre-show music or as the beginnings of other things for "The Co-Governors..." Then, I've got to write the sketches that I'm responsible for for the January sketch show as well as brainstorm and write some of the film for the day before the sketch show. Then, mail out the transcript request. Then, do the wifes delicate laundry. Then work on more stuff. And more stuff. Must make this day worth while.

Today, I will drive myself crazy...that reminds me...I wonder when my van will get fixed.

The seven minute blog.

2005-11-28T09:07:00.000-06:00

In the seven minutes before I call in to work to see if they need me to drive a trolley today, I'm writing this blog. I had a good Thanksgiving. Friends over. Wife is excellent cook.
Last night, met with Co-Governors of Space to begin building our first mission. Hoping one day to have Space Station. Woke in the middle of the night worrying about whether or not Wilfred Brimley or Liberty Medical might somehow hear about our "Wilfred Brimley Liberty Medical Showcase" that we're doing. So this morning, I thought about maybe changing the name to the "Willard Bimley Liberty Memorial Showcase". That'll fool 'em.

Good ideas coming out.

Got three days off in a row. That means I have time to get some writing, housework, planning for continuing college and working out done...if I can get off the couch.

Two days ago, I accidentally broadcasted to a trolley overfilled with Christmas Museum goers, an obscenity. That's not very Christmas friendly. I'll probably get coal now.

I had filled my Ipod with five and a half hours of Christmas music so that I would only have to listen to everything twice. However, a mistake was made in screening the tunes. We were all having a great time and suddenly I hear, "Here comes Fatty with his sack of shit. Here comes Fatty with his sack of shit." And I clicked to the next song. oops.

By the way, that song is from the John Waters Christmas album. Buy it if you can find it. It's great. It's all songs he selected for his ultimate Christmas collection.

Welp. 9:15. Gotta call work.

Why Thanksgiving married Football.

2005-11-23T15:03:00.000-06:00

I was watching the History Channel today. It's been all about the settlement of America. The white man rolling over the red man. Or at least that's what everybody simplifies the whole thing down to. Of course, my good friend Scott comes from people who got here after America was settled. As did my wife. But if you go back to the beginning of this country, someone in my family was here. When the Mayflower arrived on the shores, there was a Churchill, from whom I'm descended working in the galley. At the same time in southern illinois, missouri and arkansas, there were the Osage people, from whom I am also descended. And, of course, on my mom's side, there were some filthy french and irish that were planning on sending their grandkids to Canada to trade furs and so on. This mix in my past of the conquerors and the conquered has lead me to seek out even handed retellings of the history of this land. Both sides please. Sure the whites were stealing land, but then the natives weren't all that great at sharing and the new settlers were in a predicament which caused them to need to live here. And of course a lot of nastiness, lying, naivete' and disunity were some of the reasons why it all turned out the way it did with the whites slowly giving all our stuff back to the native americans through losses at indian casinos. One of these days, possibly hundreds of years from now, this land will belong to the "house".
I also enjoy hearing of stories of how it wasn't so great for the new settlers and it wasn't so bad for the native people. A wonderful "for instance" came at the end of the story of the Blackhawk Wars. Blackhawk was a past-his-prime leader of his people (people who warred with my Osage ancestors) who fought a brave and admirable battle against the encroaching American army. (By the way, if you've ever heard that native americans didn't believe in land ownership, it's really not as noble as all that. Blackhawk said, and I'm paraphrasing, "you can't sell the land or the sky. Because we live here." Which could be interpretted as saying, "you can't move into my neighborhood because we're all red people here.")
Well, unfortunately for Blackhawk, the American Army defeated and demoralized him and his. He surrendered and became prisoner. He went and met Andrew Jackson and toured the east coast. Everyone who met him, loved and admired him as a great Indian Leader, even though he had just been responsible for the deaths of many "americans".
Later in life, he dictated his autobiography which he dedicated to the "american" general that defeated him with a warning to him not to let anyone defeat him in the same way.
Ultimately, Blackhawk is more famous and more revered these 160 years later. Point, Blackhawk. I don't even know the general's name.
But also, the end of Blackhawks life was marked by a feeling of being a once proud but now thoroughly defeated Indian leader.
But get this:
Do you know who his grandson turned out to be? (Some of you sportsbuffs will really appreciate this. I know I was blown away by this.)

Jim fucking Thorpe Man! The greatest american athlete of all time.
He broke all the track and field and football records at the time. He was more of a football player. He was the greatest sports celebrity of his day. He has never been matched by any athletes since in the way he dominated two (I think he even did a couple other sports really well too.) He was loved by America! He was Michael Jordan, Muhammed Ali, Bo Jackson all in one.

And he was called "All American".

Therein lies the marriage of the european settling of this country, the native pride and strength, Thanksgiving and football.
Eat that with your turkey!
Happy Thankgiving!

A whole lot of money.

2005-11-17T07:26:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I was asked if I wanted to stay home instead of coming "all the way down here" to work for 3 1/2 hours. The reason was that another employee was already there and was suddenly short a couple hours after a private charter fell through for yesterday. Normally, I would have considered it but I had had a dream yesterday morning where, at the end of a trolley charter, the contact with the group gave me a bunch of money. Of course, in the dream it looked like hundreds of dollars. Obviously, being someone who believes in his own dreams, I went to work. Turns out, it was pretty easy and way layed back. We picked up crackers and cheese at a caterer, loaded the trolley with alcohol and colas, and then picked up people for an hour long tour before we dropped them at a downtown restaurant.
For an hourlong tour, $35 tip. Not bad. In fact, that's pretty good. And then I got to keep all the beer (they didn't touch it) and most of the coke, diet coke and sprite (which I shared with mechanics at work...oh and also with hot sandwich.) Crackers and cheese came home with me too. It was like a biblical fish haul. My van ranneth over. Two trips to the apartment. Good stuff.
This morning, I had a dream that was like a real quick highlight clip from a football game where aparently two cheerleaders were in a fight and one began to drag the other down the field. Actually, now that I mention it, I don't think it was two cheerleaders in a fight. I think it was one cheerleader who somehow became attached to a passing fullback. At any rate, the cheerleader was being dragged against her will down the field toward the endzone. She eventually began to enjoy the ride and smile and laugh a little even though it hurt a little bit. At this point, the sports team zoomed in on her chest and said, "By the way folks, that's not a nipple." And sure enough it wasn't. "It's the nozzle of her water bottle." What an incredible optical illusion.
This dream, I don't expect to mean anything. Do you know why? Because I was a little tipsy last night from all the free wine I drank.

But the big news is that tonight I'm going to rock the Lincoln Lodge for the first of two nights. I'm going to be standing around in my apartment for a good part of the day, putting the finishing touches on my 12 minutes. I'm hoping I knock it out of the park tonight. If anybody is interested, tonight and tomorrow at 4008 n. Lincoln. 9pm but come early (it sells out).

And then on Saturday, I'll go back to driving trolleys.

Happy rings around Uranus!

2005-11-10T08:23:00.000-06:00

I'm so glad George Takei came out as gay. He's so interesting and it's only because of his dignity and confidence combined with his relatively effeminate affect and super deep voice that he is so interesting. What a life. Japanese interment camp. Rivalries with Shatner. I even sent him an e-mail of support. I guess, secretly, I wish I was gay (well minus the oppression and hate crimes) because that whole community seems to be having a really good time. I mean, sure, I've really only been immersed in it during the couple of gay pride parades I've driven trolleys for.
By the way, George Takei is also one of the best voices (in entertainment as well as) on the Simpsons.
And he confirmed on Stern today that Shatner wore a wig and a girdle even on the original Star Trek series.
What do you think Shatner looks like? Uncle Fester? I hope so.
You want to do something to you metabolism that you probably shouldn't do? Work out a lot before breakfast. You'll be starving all day long. Which will lead to you eating all day long. Which will lead to you gaining seven pounds in one day. That literally happened to me yesterday. I weigh 225 now! Yay! Give me that girdle, Sulu!
I'll bet there weren't supposed to be overweight people in Star Trek because if someone got too heavy, they could just beam over all of them except the fat. That's the future!
By the way, (kind of on this whole track) I've been seeing these commercials for that really gay (not in the fun homosexual meaning of the word but rather, the coming off as effeminate when one isn't trying to sort of way) work out guy, John Basedow. And I can't get his stupid theme song out my head, "He's John Basedow. He's gonna show you how!" No he's not. I was born the way I am. You can't convert people, Mr. Basedow. There are two types of work out champions. The Awesome Kind-The people who are in really good shape and look great and are in good health and then they go live their lives. Then there are the John Basedow types. They're a little off. A little strange. A little creepy. A little douchy. A little angry. A little "gay" (meaning #2 from above parenthesese.).
And the reason why George Takei is cool is that he is gay (meaning #1) and not a Basedow in anyway.

Sophomore Jinx but still great.

2005-11-08T01:33:00.000-06:00

Improv at a bar. It was fine. We were "The Mistakes" which was fun. It was the second time doing this show. The first time was magical. Tonight was the expected sophomore jinx. And also, the room seems a little dead. But all in all I think we did a great show. Chris Churchill, Chris Hauser and F. Tyler Burnett. (Special phone call appearance by Scott McNulty.) We know it's a weird fun show but we don't know how to explain it yet. People tell us it's a middle finger to the "rules" of improv. There's a lot of calling stuff out. There's a lot of purposefully being distracted. There's also a lot of completely organic (and I mean more organic than I've seen before...like people sitting around a campfire telling stories to their friends organic) changes from scene to scene to real life to monologue to experiment to real life to scene. We use our surroundings and the audience as much as we use each other. Instead of saying, "Don't call that out. Don't waste too much time doing stuff other than the show. Don't do non-theatrical things. Don't, don't, don't." we see all the possible distractions and emprace them. "There are no mistakes. Only happy accidents."-The late painter Bob Ross.
We got our suggestion about seventeen minutes into the twenty-five minute show. Then we didn't use it too much which is completely the right thing to do. The real barprov furniture, real darts, real foosball, real celphone, real discussions of real things made their way into our scenes. Not too many "characters"... although not completely devoid of characters. Where were the relationships? There was only the real one that the three of us really have that was consistent throughout. And that was intentional.
The point is: when you really like each other (which can't be taught), when you're really intelligent (which can only have already been taught) and when you trust that you all are part of and enjoying the same overall game regardless of what the game is (which is barely even conceptually understood by most improvisors) there can be no mistakes...just fun distractions on the road trip. And as John Lennon said, "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." Apparently so it good improv.
We've got another show at "The Playground" on Sunday at 10:30pm (part of something called "Overstock"). Then we go up at the cornservatory on November 26th. We should get a director who hates improv as much as we do to direct us and we should do a run at IO or someplace like that.
Oh, for those of you who were looking for funny blog, here goes:

Belly button.

THE VICEROY OF TIME!!

2005-11-07T15:34:00.000-06:00

THE VICEROY OF TIME!!! We are all trapped in his mansion as he is in ours! We are intertwined. The lover and the beloved. Husband and wife. Lord and subject. ALL IN ONE FABRIC!
It is the VICEROY's powers that sustain the CO-GOVERNORS and give us a mission. And that mission is to please the VICEROY and all of it's underlings.
By the way, THE VICEROY OF TIME walks into a bar and says "i am THE VICEROY OF TIME and I require libation!" To which the BARTENDER OF CIRCUMSTANCE replies, "I'm sorry, sir but I can't serve you. It's 1:59 and the bar closes in fifteen seconds. We don't have the time." To which THE VICEROY OF TIME exclaimed, "You know not the depth of your own ignorance! I am THE VICEROY OF TIME and I have all the time in the universe." And then THE VICEROY OF TIME left the bar only to return a half hour earlier.
Who will be our BARTENDER OF CIRCUMSTANCE? Who will petition us to become the ALDERMAN OF REALITY!! Or is that already my job? Any MAYORS OF THOUGHT out there with the answers?
Forget all those titles. It is the CO-GOVERNORS OF SPACE that have the true power. For without space REALITY can't even get out of its own REALITYMOBILE to wreak havoc in the PARKING LOT OF EXISTENCE! Even now MONKEYS OF RAGE are scoffing at THE ALDERMANS claims of power over the CO-GOVERNORS. And you don't want to be scoffed at by the MONKEYS OF RAGE!. They wield the POOP OF VENGEANCE which rains down with a gurth, velocity and viscosity that leaves only the MINI-ELVES OF SHAME left to rebuild.
Now, VICEROY, are you comfortable with your choice?
...
As are we. As are we...

Communique'

2005-11-07T00:33:00.000-06:00

Had a meeting with the Co-Governors today. Excellent progress. We're all on board. And we see other ships attempting to rendezvous with us. The S.S. Nate Herman is in communication. An escape pod from the S.S. Cupid Players has also made overtures. This evening (monday), we will port at Gingers Ale House where our missionaries, "The Mistakes" will make first contact with the regulars of this bar. While, I personally had not desire for performing in a non-paying barprov situation, I have agreed to do this because we need to run through our extremely loose, relaxed, no rules at all, improv style in front of an audience again.
Has the S.S. Don Hall received and reviewed all pertinent documents? If the S.S. Don Hall has, then a communique' would be much appreciated regarding the analasys of these documents. Ever seen improv done by people who generally dislike improv and all of its contrivances? Come to Gingers Ale House tomorrow. We'll be pillaging a nice community of young, inexperienced improvisors.
Who else has stated interested in helping the new cause? Santa the Claus has sent a message (unable to determine it's authenticity until it is further scrutinized) suggesting an interest in helping.
Don't lose the fear. The fear is what keeps us here.
This pet that I hold so dear. From this path, we shall not veer.
Don't get too sure. Certainty makes this unpure.
Stay near the floor. And from this place, we'll take the tour.
Hold on to this. And let go, I also insist.
What did I miss? Something and nothing. Now give me a kiss.

We are looking for that meter wide weak spot in the death star. I'm focussing my laser. Now where is that spot? Pull the trigger...Nice!

The next three months will consist of fulfilling three missions.
1. Destroying all resistance to our conquest of the Last Snob Standing competition by executing our ideas perfectly and without interference.
2. Spreading the message of Wilfred Brimley to the Americas.
3. Beginning work on a baffling play.

Well, it seems that the future is calling me even as I type. The future says, "Governor Churchron, you must get in the fastest vehicle to me, the night's sleep, so that we may communicate more clearly tomorrow."
And to that request I say, "Goodnight!"

The Co-Governors of Space!

2005-11-03T14:38:00.000-06:00

So I'm kind of trying to get back into the game. Chris Hauser, Scott McNulty, F. Tyler Burnett and Iva Bahuguna along with myself are starting something.
Look out Universe, "The Co-Governors of Space" are coming to rule you peacefully!
There're only five of us at present (with no real plans for more). We've got shows written. Ideas for where and how to perform them, committment to each other and none of the "fat" that previous projects that I've been involved in have been accused of having. That means Santa can start coming to see shows again. And we can start inviting others that haven't seen us in a while.

By the way, (that's long for "BTW") within the umbrella of "Co-Governors of Space" will be the smaller comedy groups, "The Chris and Scott Show", "The Mistakes", any solo shows and of course America the Bear may do a show and "Jose Tovar and Lawrence Anderson" (mexican marionette and german nutcracker) will do their own brand of cross cultural comedy. Of course, there will be other combinations that will make up their own shows.

This has meant the important trimming of the unimportant in my life. I'm trying to focus. Finally to do what I must. And if that means I'm only in five different shows right now, then so be it. Seriously, you can get sucked into a lot of work in this town. At one time I was in "Lick Your Wounds", "Hogwash", "Chris and Scott Show", "The Fey", my solo stand-up, "The Mistakes" got hired to take my marionette to "Don't Spit the Water" and was being asked to be in two Christmas shows. These are all lottery tickets. Of the eight, only two definitely pays and one might. And that's where my loyalty lies.

Now I'll be doing no more "Hey, do you want to fill in here tonight?", or "Hey we're trying out this new space. Would you like to play." or "It MIGHT lead to being paid." or "I'm only going to wiggle my finger a little bit." or "Everybody does it." or "These should be funny." or "If ALL my friends come..."

People out there who know Scott McNulty and find him funny, say "AYE!"

People out there who think I'm funny at least sporadically, say "Arrrrrgggg!!!"

People who know Chris or F. Tyler or Iva and find any of them funny, GRUNT!!

People who are interested in seeing any or all combinations of the above run funny circles around the mass of unfunny, say "Sure I'd pay $12 to see that! At least!"

By the way, here's the upcoming schedule as far as I know:

November 7th- The Mistakes will be at Gingers Ale House for their evening comedy show. It's free. Come drink.
November 13th- The Mistakes will be at "The Playground" at 10:30 for $5.
November 17th-18th- I will be doing stand-up at the Lincoln Lodge.
November 26th- The Mistakes will be at "The Cornservatory" as part of a Saturday night showcase.
Dec. 10th-My mexican marionette will make his debut in "Don't Spit the Water" at the Playground at 10:30.
Jan. 15th- The entire group, "The Co-Governors of Space" will make their sketch comedy debut at Chemically Imbalanced Comedy's Snubfest with our as yet unwritten but sure to be amazing, "Wilfred Brimley Liberty Medical Showcase".

And in the meantime we'll be gearing up for our first "Co-Governors of Space" production (we're narrowing down prospective shows to decide which will be our first "theatrical").

Gettng active. Kashmir the Flying Beast is at my side. He's sniffing my ball. And he's nodding with a knowing look in his eye. Wow. What a ball. What a smell. Now I'm petting him. He's a weird giant flying mammal, isn't he? He's going to only get weirder.

Superbowl Forty is coming.

2005-10-27T09:36:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to do something that I probably would have never done by myself. I went to ESPN Zone and watched the White Sox win the World Series. The reason why I wouldn't have done it before is because I don't like leaving my home. But, hey, it was my wife's birthday so I left my apartment and we went downtown. I made white sock puppets with white sock mullets and helped everyone cheer. My boss bought us all drinks. I saw the final bill...$573.
Then I came home and gave my wife her birthday presents.
We listened to our Sirius satellite radio boombox all night long. I fell asleep to it. I woke up to it in the middle of the night. Usually Paul Mooney is funny to me but when I'm just waking up, I'm not strong enough to get "the joke". So I went back to sleep mad at Paul Mooney. Then I woke up and he was on Howard Stern. Suddenly, after a nights sleep and in the context of the show for which my wife and I purchased our Sirius radio in the first place, he was funny.
Weird.
In retrospect, I was making fun of all the "southside racist", mullet-wearing, moustache having, white White sox fans all night. And I was really glad that there were plenty of black and mexican White Sox fans at the ESPN Zone. Then I woke up in the middle of the night and was mad at what Paul Mooney was saying.
The moral to the story is: Go Kansas City Chiefs!
I like football much better than baseball.

Going to Kansas City.

2005-10-19T20:05:00.000-05:00

I'm going to Kansas City tomorrow. They've got toys and cars and people there. It's going to be so great. Have you all gone swimming in the Candy River? Oh it's gorgeous. Like something out of Willy Wonka.
But oh, do you see that thing? It's a giant! The giant is named George Brett. And here is his Superhighway! He used to be a regular, hall-of-fame caliber third basement with hammerRoids. Now he's a giant blood clot in a business suit. He made a restaurant on the Plaza (which is a real place...but not a real time, so good luck getting a seat.). !. .. the rest!Urant is called "Blood Clots on the Plaza". But it's written all in cursive.
Now you can rely on this blog to tell you all you need to know about my glorious hometown or you could do a madlib and put Kansas City in where all the prepositions should be. It doesn't make as much sense as this blog, but what could? The other thing you could do (and there is only one more thing to do) is take a trolley tour of Kansas City. They'll show you the famous "The Day After" house where all the Lawrence, Kansas exteriors were shot in the prequel to "Two Days From Thursday."

So, one of these days, huh?
Yep.
Hey you 10,000 monkeys! Get off of my keyboard!

Anyway, what was I saying? Hmmm. Baseball. No. Football. More likely. But...no. The weather? Where are those monkeys? Now I feel bad about scaring them away.

For those of you just reading my blog for the first time, you haven't missed anything that makes this make sense. You just read an entire blog without any outside context necessary. Feel free to comment on any inaccuracies, annoyances or disturbances caused in said blog entry.
Goodnight.

Back to nonsense.

2005-10-18T21:27:00.000-05:00

Back to nonsense.
I just got invite to myspace.com by the lovely Joanna Buese. She's a nicey.
They think I need to blog over there too.
Forget it. I'm feeding pigeons tomorrow. Then the next day I'm washing my hare. My hare is a hare Chrishna. That's like a Hare' Krishna but it's hare's worshipping me because of the way I wash them to avoid blogging in more than one place.
Who wants to fight?
If two of you reply, I can set you guys up against each other.
I finally feel like I've accomplished a short window of "doing nothing" like I promised myself I would. I'm kind of part of some shows that aren't really doing much yet. And I've got some big plans on the horizon. But for right now, nothing except driving a trolley and napping.
Today I went to work with a headache and food on my shirt.
Tomorrow, I'll have a foodhead and a shirtache.
Thursday, I'll have a hotdog and a smile.
Friday, I'll have none.
Saturday, I'll wee-wee
Simdau, I'll come home.
Sunday, I'll say "wow, I don't remember there being a Simdau."

Now who wants to fight?

There you have it.

The beginning.

2005-10-14T00:23:00.000-05:00

Larry:
One day a young little person was in a lab and was accidentally bitten by a radio active bad idea. He fell asleep and became The Daydreamer!

Children: (adlib)
And then what happened? Are you and elf? Where's the Lizard?

Larry:
Listen kids. I hate kids and as soon as your teacher gets back, I'm going to get back to work fixing the toilet in the boys room. Who wants to shake my hand?

Children:(Ad lib)
You smell like throw-up.

Larry:
You look like teenage car accident death statistics.

Children:
Tell us a story!

Larry:
And then you'll shut your little fat faces?

Children:
Yes!

Larry:
Well after Santa Clause was killed by the evil Eskimo, Mr. Magatuk, the world grew very dark for several centuries. You were already dead by this point. But I was there. Thanking Mr. Magatuk and the Lizard for ruining Christmas when they asked me if I was an elf. Then a whole bunch of bad stuff happened. Went on for a long time. Then I saw this happen:
(The following scenes happen as if told in flashback.)

The part before The End.

2005-10-12T11:05:00.000-05:00

Mr. Magatuk
(To his lizard friend)
I've replaced his regular shoes with these...poison pointy shoes.
(Lizard cackles and hisses.)

Lizard
I'll deliver these toute suite.

Mr. Magatuk
You've been studying French?

Lizard
I can't say I've been studying. But I'm a practitioner of the French Arts.

Mr. Magatuk
I suppose with that forked tongue, you'd be great at that.

Lizard
Hey, if I'm going to do your bidding AND catch the end of Monday Night Football, I've got to go.

Mr. Magatuk
Do what you must. I'll daydream while you're gone.

Lizard
Never cover youself entirely in the blanket of "what if", my friend. It is while you dream that reality puts a pillow over your real face.

Mr. Magatuk
Advice from a lizard.

Lizard
I'm not a lizard. I'm THE Lizard. Don't forget that.

Mr. Magatuk
THE Lizard?

Lizard
Yep. Is it coming back to you now? Treachery is only good until dinner. Then you nervously finish your meal, you absently watch crap on television and you worry yourself to sleep wondering when the other
(holds up the shoes)
shoe will drop.
(Lizard leaves.)

Mr. Magatuk
Where is Lena?

Larry
(Arriving holding up Lena's head.)
Do you mean, "where's the rest of Lena?"

Mr. Magatuk
How'd you get those shoes on so quickly?

Larry
The Lizard does magic too, you know.

Mr. Magatuk
How cute. You've decapitated my wife and now you're going to kill me, I suppose.

Larry
You don't seem very upset.

Mr. Magatuk
I was gonna kill her today anyway.

Larry
(Kicks at Mr. Magatuks legs. Magatuk falls down.)
Now, why don't you pick on someone your own size!
(Starts kicking at Mr. Magatuk.)

The End.

2005-10-10T10:32:00.000-05:00

I decided that since these blogs post with the most recent post on top, that I'd like to write a play, little by little, day by day, from end to beginning. And I also decided that someday I want to meet and hang out with some little people. So here's the end of the play starring a little person in the role of Larry.

Larry
(Kicking Mr. Magatuk as he lies on the ground.)
And there's your f***ing pointy shoes! Har-har!

Mr. Magatuk
Wait! Wait! Larry! You've won! You can stop killing me now! You've won!

Larry
(Slows down his kicking but he's still kicking. It resembles the kicking that the Lollipop Guild from the Wizard of Oz were doing when they were dancing as they sang their song.)
I'm listening. But I'm still kicking you to death.

Mr. Magatuk
In Inuit culture, the man who bests me at my own game becomes a magical being.

Larry
I'm already magical. I'm an elf! Right! Har-har!
(Speeds up the kicking.)

Mr. Magatuk
Point taken. Ooooh! If you'll just stop killing me for a second, I could finish my thought.

Larry
(Pauses. Then resumes.)
Was that enough time?

Mr. Magatuk
Of course it was. I'm a man of my word. You, of course, are not an elf. I was being rude and unfair when I called you that. You're a little person. With pointy steel toed kicking shoes. But, what you don't know is that I, the most average person you know, am not so average. Still waters run deep, little Larry.

Larry
No, you can't fool me. You're just like everybody else! You're wrapped up in your own average sized problems in your average sized house with average sized kids and your average job. You don't care about people who are outside the norm. We scare you.

Mr. Magatuk
Real average people are scared by you. But I'm not really average. Remember that drink you had at the Magic Bar?

Larry
Yes.

Mr. Magatuk
What was it called?

Larry
"Don't drink this unless you want you're darkest inner aspirations to become real and personified in a mythical being with an Inuit last name that the Inuit don't know about but that has always existed." Wow. I guess I should have taken that more literally than I did.

Mr. Magatuk
Yeah. Magic Bar's don't fool around, man. I'm you, man! Or at least I'm the "you" you thought you wanted to be.

Larry
So you said, I get to become a magical being?

Mr. Magatuk
Yeah, I said that because you always wanted to be able to lie better. You just become me. And by that I mean, you become what you really want to be. Which is me.

Larry
Not anymore. I like me. And I like you. And I like these boots. And I like kicking people to death. Are you really a mythical creature?

Mr. Magatuk
Yes.

Larry
So I could kick you to death and not get in trouble?

Mr. Magatuk
I guess.

Larry
(Turns to the audience.)
Well it sounds as if I get a freebie, folks. And that's a great thing. I've been angry for a long time. And after tonight, I won't be. Good night everyone!

Mutual of Chicago's, Wild Kingdom

2005-10-07T08:11:00.000-05:00

The flying creatures were all the many attractive opportunities that continue to arise. The giant flyiing beast was the heavy opportunities/responsibilities that arose yesterday.
I spent the better part of the day reading new e-mails from people regarding this play or this show or this meeting or this project. A show and meeting with CIC is coming up that sounds really important and I feel like (even though I'm out until January) I need to let them know that I'm still around.

Then there's the mysterious possibility of a really cool project that I and a few friends are slowly, carefully putting together. Not rushing. We don't want to scare it away or have it hurt us. And I, for the longest time, have resisted being responsible for a beast like this but it has become obvious that it has chosen me. Kashmir is here (having dropped from the sky) and he's sniffing me...he's checking me out.

Let me just say...I've written a lot of stuff lately and I want it to be produced. I know who I want to be involved and I hope I have the wherewithall, motivation, focus and sticktoitiveness to make this thing happen.

Kashmir is a beautiful, disgusting, wild, friendly, hungry, curious, dangerous, cautious beast that wants me for some reason and if I said "no", I'm pretty sure Kashmir could bite my arm off and kill me toute suite.

Expect more reports of Kashmir as a the Metaphorical Wild Kingdom continues.

Kashmir, the flying beast.

2005-10-06T09:50:00.000-05:00

This morning in the "other reality" we all live in for several hours a night, I found myself walking through an overgrown, wildish area on the southside of Chicago. I think I was on the way to a store. In a particularly overgrown lot, I happened upon one parrot. I immediately knew it was one of the parrots that live behind the Museum of Science and Industry. Then I saw a parakeet nearby. Then I saw more. Then I saw more. Then I realized this little place had a whole bunch of parrots and parakeets and even a couple hummingbirds. I looked in the knick-knack store which had a huge open front window and saw that they had adopted one of the tropical birds. I don't remember the name of the bird but it was the kind that "Berretta" had. Was that a Macaw? Anyway, he lived inside but could go outside if he wanted.

I reached out my finger in an attempt to get a parrot to land on my finger but I ended up accidentally punching out a hummingbird with my finger. He lied there on the ground motionless. But I think he'll be alright.
Then, I'm assuming later that day, my wife and some friends and I were in some sort of out door gathering. Fun, food, conversation. It seemed as if the outdoor deck area that we were all hanging out in was only vaguely separate from the actual living area in this huge beautiful mansion. Everything was white. As we all lounged, we looked up into the sky and noticed the birds. But then I noticed four huge birds in the sky. I got my wife to look. She agreed that they were something to watch, which is notable because she rarely agrees with me that something I think is "awesome" actually is. Those giant flying creatures swooped and dove and hunted until after a short moment one of them landed in the party. It was very close to us. At first, to me it looked like a giant vulture type thing. It lumbered towards my wife and I, on foot. I was worried that Cathy was going to freak out because she hates and is frightened of a lot of wild life. But, soon it became obvious that 1.) the beast didn't have any interest in Cathy...only in me and that 2.) it wasn't a giant vulture but actually a giant flying mammal. This beast was frightening and borderline disgusting. Unearthly. It almost looked demonic, although I understood that it didn't have any good or evil motives. He was just curious. And then it was obvious he was just hear to see me. Maybe deliver a message. I, of course, was a little frightened, but I didn't want to move because then it might attack me.

Let me tell you what it looked like. It was black and dark brown. A skin/hair texture of an item of clothes made of worn out suede. Black where the suede still held up, brown where it was worn down to the skin. It was the size of a mastiff or a labrador but not as gregarious. It's wings were fleshy and were attached from its ribs to its front paws, kind of like a giant bat. It had a face like a small manatee combined with the druelling jowls of a mastiff. And it lumbered toward me. It got very close and I could feel it's hot breath on my shoulder and arm. I sat still, not completely scared but not secure either. I watched carefully. His "snout" touched my shoulder and lingered like he was "taking me in" or studying me olfactorily. I then began wondering if it was going to hurt me or not. What of his three friends in the sky? They probably had other stuff going on.
Anyway, I finally woke up. I was walking around my apartment. "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin was playing on the radio and suddenly I felt strongly that the flying beast was beside me, asking me if he could hang out for a while. I invited him into my reality. He sidled up along side me. I began to pet him like he was a dog. To anyone who might have been watching, it would have looked like I was petting the air. But in my mind, I wasn't. I was petting that menacing, flying beast that wants to tell me something...or eat me. I think "kashmir" was the appropriate theme for this beast. Okay, so right now, I've decided to call him, "Kashmir".
It WAS one of those early morning dreams. And a pretty cool one. I hope it turns out to be pre-cognitive again. Because the big scary flying beasts and, in fact, all the flying creatures in my dreams this morning seemed really cool and really ominous...especially the big guy.

Well, I'll keep you posted as to whether or not anything comes of this. At the very least, I'm keeping the flying beast.

Purifying myself.

2005-10-03T22:43:00.000-05:00

Purple Rain is still a great movie.

Santa has warts.

I also enjoyed Dodgeball. I saw it for the first time tonight.

Scott has a contagious smelly skin condition.

Why didn't more happen for Morris Day?

Ed, Ed, Potato Head lives in a dumpster outside the Bubonic Plague Institute.

I already saw this "Daily Show".

Webmistress Julia DOES NOT know everything!

Apollonia shows her boobs in this.

Jackie has a personality disorder.

What a sweet motorcycle!

Steve Donnelly...give me a suggestion for something to blog about. What? I really put you on the spot? You got nothing for me? Oh, well.

Hey everybody, "Take Me With You" is playing. What a great song. And a "feel good" portion of this film. "You must purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka."

There I've insulted all those who respond to my blog. And in that way I too have purified myself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka. However, I fear that (as we find out later on in "Purple Rain") this ain't Lake Minnetonka.

Hey, but look! Appollonia is topless! Yay! Everybody wins!

Today, I'm sick.

2005-09-30T09:40:00.000-05:00

I just recently had another stand-up show with the Infamous Commonwealth theater's "Side Series". I had fun and I began to remember the way I used to do it before I started trying to make it more "stand-uppy". Apparently, being myself onstage is enough. That's a hard thing to accept though. Because if I have no idea what I'm doing that makes me funny that means a.) I don't know how to not be funny and b.) If I stop being funny, I won't know how to fix it.

It's like breathing, don't think to hard about it because you will forget and you will die.

I'm in a play right now too. In this play, I have to kiss this lady. Now I'm sick with the same thing her two kids have. And I can't get the glitter out of my pores. And syphillis and herpes have combined in the glitter to create a new venereal disease called "The Bell of The Balls". It manifests itself in raised bumps that seem to be wearing tuxedos and formal dresses and seem to be very uncomfortably looking for punch and also seem to be trying to determine whether tonight is going to be "the night". It's a very uncomfortable outbreak.

I decided not to go to rehearsal today for the improvised children's show that I'm in because I'm also getting laryngitis just in time for the sunday opening of the grown-up play I'm in. I should be fine by sunday but prom is ruined. I figure I can spend today being relatively productive before I have to go in to work. I guess I'll do some more solicitations to grade schools for the improvised children's show. We need to sell some shows. By the way, maybe the phrase "improvised children's show" is misleading. It's not the show that's improvised, it's the children. They're improvised in the same way the Iraqi insurgents explosive devices are (God, I hope Steve is reading this). You see, if you combine the parts of several insects with sugar and spice and puppy dog tails you'll get an androgenous, homeless tramp. Which is what we want in our audiences. We'd like our audiences to look like "The Pre-Naptime of the Living Dead" but with laughing.

I don't want to be creative today because I've actually finished at least the first or second drafts of three plays of varying lengths in the last two weeks so my self-expression center has been at least temporarily burned out. However, I do have three very important things that I must work on:

1. My talent agency is adding an online talent search to their services, which means I have to call and get an ID number and upload all my info onto the site. But I'm sick.

2. I have to arrange some previously written material into a cohesive, three-character audition for "Don't Spit the Water". But I'm sick.

3. I've also decided to do the school solicitations. But I'm sick.

and I guess I really should study my lines for the play I'm in. (Sundays, Oct. 2, 9, 16 at the "Side Project" 1520 w. Jarvis, 7:30pm. $15.) It's actually a very heavy, serious show with drugs and gay themes and death and schemes but, of course, I am funny.

Okay, one small creative brainstorm. Since I've finished three plays in the last two weeks, I'm out of "old" ideas to work on, so I have to work up some new ones. Behold the creative process:

Scenario one: A boy from the suburbs of the swamps of Arizona State begins to wonder if maybe the world is bigger than the chained closed refrigerator that he's been stuck in at the bottom of the swamp for these last three years. Sure, the food's still good in there but the human waste is piling up and the front door is letting water in. It's a tough life but little Wayne is still proud of where he came from. When finally the hinges rust off and the door and the chains fall away, Wayne decides to take his first deep breathe and, since his lungs are only accustomed to freon vapor, he drowns. After drowning, he decides to go on vacation. Then he meets a young lady in China who actually spent her first three years in a sunken Vanagon. They fall in love and commit suicide. After the suicide they decide that they should see other people.

Scenario two: The southside of Chicago erupts into a giant tsunami of blood when the latest Museum of Science and Industry special exibit comes into contact with a frayed extension cord. The wall of blood opens a dance club called, "Don't Worry, We All Have It.", which becomes wildly successful and causes the wall of blood to reevaluate it's life and mate choices. He sends a
tear stained letter to his lady friend who is a waitress at a median strip. Is this the end? Wait til thursday...

That's it. I'm sick.

The difference.

2005-09-19T19:05:00.000-05:00

adafskljjdsafkljjkjkldsljkfdsaljkjkfdaskjljksdfkljjklsdfaljklkjlkjlkjljklkjdfsajklkjjlkdfsdjlkjlkjladfs;jlkjlakdsjkldlakf;sjjksadflkljkjkljlkjlkjkl;klasdfjlkldsf;jkjklsadfkljjlkjklfdsjlkjl;akdsjlk;lk;dsafjjlkjlasdfkjkljlkkjllkjlkjlk;jasdjlk;lka;dsfjljkfsadkljljkasdfl;kkjljkla;sjlkld;asfkjlkj;sdafl;kjlkjljkjkljlklkj

Get it?
It's a rhythm.
I'm playing my keyboard.
my favorite part is: lkl;jjkl;klj;jkl;
although, "adflkskljl;akdsfkjlfads;kljlkjjls;adfljkladsf;klkjl;asdflkjlsadfk" is not without it's own charm.

I'm wondering if someday in the future a computer will read those letters like it was binary code except with 26 options. And when it reads this, it'll go, "Shit! Awesome! I've got to tell a cop and a priest and a lawyer and that hot chick computer that I've been visitting at the strip club!" But it won't tell it's mother.

Today, I said something to someone that they said sounded like a Mitch Hedberg line. I got a little frustrated. I wish he hadn't died because now everybody things I'm doing Mitch Hedberg even though half of the people didn't know of him until he died and most of the people forget that "absurd" humor doesn't only belong to the late Mr. Hedberg. Remember Steven Wright? And before him, Steve Martin? "I was born a poor black child"... And before that, Eugene Ionesco's plays were amazingly absurd.
I think people are thinking alot about a very talented man who died too soon and don't realize that they are so affected by it that it is coloring the way they see others motives and thoughts.

By the way what I said was, "My front door of my apartment building had a note on it this morning that said, 'This door is out of order'. But I thought I'd try it anyway. Sure enough, when I reached for the door, I closed it, then I went in, then I left, then I opened the door."

Steve Martin could have said it too. Hell, when Lenny Bruce was riffing, he'd stumble across some brilliant non-political nonsense. Definitely Steven Wright could've said it. And sure, Mitch Hedberg could have said it...but I said it.

And now:
adfjk;jka;lskjl;sadfjkl;sadfjlk;jadsf;kljklsadfl;kjjlkadsflkjkl;asdfkjl;jl;klikl;asfkjjkl;sadfjlkasdfkl;jadsfk;jlj;aldsk;jlasdfl;kkljadsfl;kjkjl;adsflkj;asdfj;kli;jklsadjkl;l;jkadskl;jadsfjl;ksadfkjl;jasdf;lklj;asdfklj;asdfjlk;ljlsadfklj;sadfjk;li;klsadjkljk;jlsadkjl;asdfjkl;lsadfk;jljk;aldjkl;asdfjkl;asdfkjl;kas;dfjkl;asdflk;ji

Did you see the difference from what I did before? It was subtle but it was there. This time I put "i"'s in there.

Touche'

The advertisements at the top of the page should be about blogging

2005-09-15T22:32:00.000-05:00

I just blogged in this blogs rival blog again. I hope none of you are angry with me. I'm a man with two blogs. Pretty cool. I wonder if I signed up for 2850 blogs (all in different interests) would I suddenly be famous? I think I would. I see no reason why I shouldn't start organizing this whole thing.

First, a physics blog.
Then, a theoretical physics blog.
Then, a theoretical metaphysics blog.
Then, a metatheoretical physics blog.
Then, a metathealorettalynn physically blog.
Then, a psychomegaly center blog.
Then, a Hillary Swank bashing blog.
Then, a blog on the merits of evil.
Then, a blog on the merits of fighting evil.
Then, a blog about love.
Then, a blog about cats barbed penises.
Then, a blog about the paranormal.
Then, a blog about the normal.
Then, a blog about metatheoretical psychoparanormality in space.
Then, a blog about Henry Rollins.
Then, a blog about the blob.
Then, a blog about a goober.
Then, a blog about a booger.
Then, a blog about my neighbor.
Then, a blog about the bloggy man.
Then, a blog about whether to say " a blog about..." or "a...blog".
Then, a whether to say "a blog about..." or "a...blog" blog.

That's 22. Only 2828 left to think of. Then I'll take a day off work and sign up for all these. Then I'll blog. I might need to start a blogging sweat shop. Who's in? Do you have any small children that could be put in a room with 10,000 chimpanzees and blog all day? Does anyone have the chimps?
I have the chimps and it hurts like hell.
A blog about chimps! (the disease)
A blog about chimps! (the punk band from the 70's)
A blog about chimps! (the cop show about the California Highway Military Police)
A blog about chimps! (The nickname of a gorilla I know who does this great impression of a chimp...the punk band.)
Hamlet! I win!

It's gonna be a long hard road, but I think I'm on the right track.

A blog about tracks...