War and Pants
Monday February 28th 2005, 2:17 pm
I just finished David Maraniss’s They Marched Into Sunlight, an excellent book about October, 1967, when a very ugly battle in Vietnam and a very ugly protest in Madison, Wisconsin, occured on the same day. Nate’s father-in-law, Jim George, or, as he prefers we all call him, The Colonel (and, yes, I have a hard time not doing a Stuart MacKenzie impression when I hear those words, but I’ve never done it around him ’cause a) he’s a good guy and b) he could break me without a sweat) is one of the players; he was commanded the lead company in the battle and almost had his face blown off. It’s weird thinking back to Nate and Jen’s wedding and the way the Colonel was boogying down with everyone and then picturing this guy in the middle of all that blood and death.
I only mention this now because LBJ, of course, is in the book, and I’m now having the hardest time reconciling the man who was wondering how to win the war with the man ordering a pair of pants.
Upgrade
Sunday February 20th 2005, 11:13 pm
Yes, it’s a weird theme, but that’s what we get for using the out-of-the-box look. Here’s hoping comment spam DIES DIES DIES.
Howard Roark Can Blow Me
Friday February 11th 2005, 10:26 am
To: The architect who designed the Green Line Aviation Station
From: Me, someone who actually uses the damn thing
Dear Brilliant Architect-
Hi. My name is Adam Rakunas, and I rely on public transit to get to and from work. One of the legs of my commute is a short hop down the Green Line that starts at the station at Aviation and Imperial. You might know this one, because you designed it. You might not know me, but I feel a certain bond with you, because you obviously hate me and everyone else who uses your structure.
(more…)
Yay!
Wednesday February 09th 2005, 10:43 am
For the first time in thirteen years, I have completed a novel. It’s a first draft, only one hundred twenty-one pages, and it’ll need some more work before it becomes publishable (if at all. I’m going to have a hell of a time convincing someone to look at a tale of friendship, betrayal, reputation economies and intelligent sex toys), but I’m done and it feels good. Now, on to something else while this story, entitled The Right People, ages in a desk drawer for edits and brickbats.
And it just hit me…
Thursday February 03rd 2005, 10:53 am
I’m now over 30. No one’s going to trust me anymore.
Shit.
Posit
Wednesday February 02nd 2005, 10:17 am
The amount of time it takes to finish a home improvement project is geometrically proportional to the number of Rakunas men present. Discuss.
Hippo Birdy, Two Ewes…
Wednesday February 02nd 2005, 10:16 am
As far as I can tell, the only thing about turning 31 is that I’m a prime number again. Woo.
This next year will have a lot to live up to. In the past year I:
-Roasted a pig
-Ran as a convention delegate
-joined Fictionados
-had three jobs
-and, of course, the kicker, had a hell of a big bash where I got this sweet ring as a party favor
With my new gig, I’m up at 6am and in bed by 9pm. While I don’t have the freedom to, say, work without wearing pants, I also don’t have the gut-churning terror that Anne and I will have to eat dirt for dinner. I think 31 is going to be a year of doing very adult, responsible things, like buying real estate, having kids and writing novels about teenage perverts in the near future. You know. The stuff my parents did when they were my age (though, now that I think about it, when Dad was 31, he was sending giant machines into space and going to business school, and when Mom was 31, she was probably keeping me from eating paste and wondering what in hell she was going to do about the horrific decor of our new house. But, what the hell).
If you’re so inclined to make with prezzies, please make a donation to the Westside Children’s Center instead. Anne’s on their Board of Directors, which means I’m on the Male Auxiliary. It’s an excellent organization that does daycare and family preservation for poor families in Culver City, and the more money you donate means the less Anne has to freak out about finding funding, which means she’s happier, which means the Booty Probability Factor increases exponentially, which means there’s happiness and light in the House of Rakunas. Unless you want to buy me a pony. That’s cool, too.
