Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is all Around Depressing

So, once again, Thanksgiving was downright depressing.
I think it's just the change of seasons coming on, but man, I just don't feel right.
It's actually not that bad. It's something new, even if it's all hollow and cold feeling.
Wednesday I went over to Josh's and watched some entertainment magazine show, got bored, went to Shooters, got bored, went back to Josh's and watched Dawn of the Dead.
Not an entirely bad movie. Ving Rahmes pulls off the first shitty acting job I've seen him do. Other than that, it's a lot of cabin fever and killing.
What is the world's fascination with the dead walking the Earth? Is it from the Bible stuff? If so, when did we decide they eat human flesh?
After the movie, I drove through neighborhoods back to my mom's and crashed there.
Thanksgiving, I woke up, wondered why I was in my older sister's old bedroom and then went for coffee.
In the morning, we had quiche and my mom tried to cook hash browns that came out tasting like pure Crisco. I stuck around and watched the Seinfeld box set, then left around 12.
Traffic was amazing. I've driven back to Seattle on a few Thanksgivings, but I've never seen traffic like this. It took me an hour and a half to get from Kent to Seattle.
On the way, pretty much half the cars were from out of state. I found this odd, as you don't usually travel on the day of Thanksgiving, especially if you're from Missouri or Florida. You'd think they'd already be where they wanted to go. Also, where the fuck was everyone going? B.C.? It's not like there was a buttload going on downtown Seattle that day....
The rest of the day I watched Seinfeld and read. I'm reading this "Portable Nietzsche." I don't understand one red lick of it. I hate it. But, somehow I got 400 pages into it and now I feel like I have to finish it. Luckily, I bought a couple of books to spike it: "The Informers" by Brett Easton Ellis and "The Left Hand of Darkness" by Ursula LeGuin.
The Informers is typical drugged-out, sexaploid, soap opera fare that Ellis usually cums up with. He shoulda stopped at "Less than Zero." Every other book, barring "American Psycho," are pretty much "Less than Zero" parts 1 – 3. Now, "American Psycho" is a whole other animal and a better book than the acclaimed "Zero." In fact, I highly recommend "Psycho," but fair warning: it's the most violent piece of art I have ever seen. On the other hand, the "Zero" books are good on deadpan, deadend, drugged out dialogue. And "Zero" should be picked up.
The LeGuin book was billed as one of the top ten Sci Fi books, but isn't really holding up to that notion. There's a lot of sociology and not much story. It's not boring the pants off me, but I expected a lot better.
Friday I went out for drinx at the Joker with Scott and Ross. This woman with fake boobs was there. It was entertaining, but the entire dialogue of the evening centered on her tits. Believe me, there's nothing wrong with talking a good tit, but once you've run out of jokes and you're among three grown men just salivating at a woman's chest, it becomes pathetic.
Later, we saw this very E'd out chick come in and start hugging everyone.
I left after four beers, went home, watched Seinfeld and went to bed.
Saturday I met up with Scott, Shanna and Ross over at Jillians. We drank, Shanna and Scott left, and Ross and I went to Hooters.
Ross got the dead eyes staring at ass after ass and I got Hootersblind and, again, actually thought I had a chance with this one girl.
I hate that place – it's like Neverland.
Sunday, ugly news found me. My nephew was in the hospital, in Chicago – my sister went to visit my aunt, for pneumonia.
He's fine now, but it was scary and I don't want to write about it anymore.
Today, I woke up, showered, got coffee and some juice, went to work, read email, scanned the internet, went to a meeting, and now I'm here.
The new Nirvana box set is pretty much the soundtrack of my life right now. I haven't stopped listening to it since I got it.
I'm really surprised. I really thought it would be crap, but it's the best Nirvana purchase I've ever made. I can't get enough of it. I didn't even like that Wishkah thing, but this is...well, Nirvana.
Pleace,
Jeremy O'Davidleeroth