i did my civic duty today
yup. i voted.
this was the second time i've done it by absentee ballot
[i did in 2008 too]
it seems to be developing into a trend
in my three years as a registered voter,
i've yet to step foot in an actual voting booth
granted, there were a couple local elections i missed
mostly cuz i never know when the fuck they are, but still
maybe someday i'll actually vote where i live

also speaking of absentee ballots
i have a bone to pick with the gub'ment about them:
it gets sent to us very quickly, quicker than normal mail]
you provide three envelopes with it
[the one it comes it, the return envelope, and the privacy sleeve]
you have the actual printed paper ballot,
which, by the way, is pretty long and always double sided
you give us all these instructions to fill them out and send them back
and yet, when i go to mail it back in the envelopes provided,
why in the hell do i have to pay the postage?
seriously, you go through all the trouble of mailing this shit to me
and you pay for it to get mailed to me, but not back?
the hell is that?
is it really that hard to pay the 61¢ postage?
our tax dollars at work, apparently

also, since we're on the subject of politics,
words can't describe how out of place i feel here
everyone goes on and on about the city and state officials
bloomberg this, albany that, holy christ it's paladino,
d'you hear what cuomo said yesterday,
and hot damn about that there working families party
they could be talking about scandinavian bear wrestling for all i know
i like to think i'm moderately informed about politics,
but i have enough problems keeping up with michigan politics
[which, by the way, nearly gives me a stroke to think about]
and trying to keep up with what connecticut does these days?
it's a wonder i even know who's running
but damn, even trying to understand new york politics gives me a headache
bullshit nonsense is what it is



hey, people who like msu football:
we cracked the top five in the BCS this week
how bout that?

i gotta say,
watching them play this year is doing good things for me
i actually enjoy watching the games, for one
[cuz i sure as hell didn't last year,
not after that whole cmu debacle]
they've got some shades of the 2008 season going,
what with actually having a good run game and all
it's given me something to do on saturdays, too
instead of going broke trying to afford this city
i approve on all counts

as much as i kinda sorta want to
i'm not going to play the prediction game
not for the bcs standings, not for bowl games
and sure as shit not for the big ten standing
not because i'm afraid of cursing the team,
or because i don't want to be wrong
it's way too fucking insane, that's why
there are WAY too many possibilities for how the season ends
there's different scenarios depending on who wins out,
how tie breakers affect the big ten champ,
who'll jump over who in the bcs rankings
who gets what bowl game depending on who loses when/which team
it's enough to give anyone a nosebleed

i'll leave the predictions for the fans with nothing better to do
and/or people who get paid to give them
i'll leave you with this sentiment, though:
this year's college season, along with this year's professional season,
is some of the most entertaining football i've seen in a long time
and i do mean that
teams are losing games they shouldn't and winning games they shouldn't
the polls are all fucked up beyond compare
standings are completely up in the air
it's a total free–for–all among every single team in the league
and we're waiting anxiously to see who's gonna make it through unscathed
it's fucking awesome,
and i love it



сколько в моей жизни было этих самолётов
никогда не угадаешь где же он не приземлится
я плачу за эти буковки и цифры
улечу на этом кресле прямо в новости
давай, я позвоню тебе ещё раз
помолчим, поулыбаемся друг другу

я пытаюсь справиться с обрушившимся небом
я никак не слабачок, но тут такие перестрелки
я молчу, белеет парус одиноко
яурачок, он ничего не понимает
корабли имеют сердце и возможность выбирать
и погибая улыбаться

мы с тобой ещё немного и взорвёмся

жаль, но я никак не научусь остановиться
разгоняюсь–загоняюсь как отпущенная птица
хорошо, я буду сдержанной и взрослой
снег пошёл и значит что–то поменялось
я люблю твои запутанные волосы
давай, я позвоню тебе ещё раз, помолчим
люблю твои запутанные волосы
давай, я позвоню тебе ещё раз, помолчим



i’m working on a sound
i’m walking through the city
feeling like the city
is feeling like a sound

i’m dreaming around 11
and i’m thinking of a friend
i’m feeling for the card
and feeling in the air



oh, here in the shop the machines roar so wildly,
that oft, unaware that i am, or have been,
i sink and am lost in the terrible tumult;
and void is my soul... i am but a machine.
i work and i work and i work, never ceasing;
create and create things from morning till e'en;
for what?—and for whom—oh, i know not! oh, ask not!
who has ever heard of a conscious machine?

no, here is no feeling, no thought and no reason;
this life–crushing labor has ever supprest
the noblest and the finest, the truest and richest,
the deepest, the highest and humanly best.
the seconds, the minutes, they pass out forever,
they vanish, swift fleeting like straws in a gale.
i drive the wheel madly as tho' to o'ertake them,—
give chase without wisdom, or wit, or avail.

the clock in the workshop,—it rests not a moment;
it points on, and ticks on: eternity—time;
and once someone told me the clock had a meaning,—
its pointing and ticking had reason and rhyme.
and this too he told me,—or had i been dreaming,—
the clocked wakened life in one, forces unseen,
and something besides;... i forget what; oh, ask not!
i know not, i know not, i am a machine.

at times, when i listen, i hear the clock plainly;—
the reason of old—the old meaning—is gone!
the maddening pendulum urges me forward
to labor and labor and still labor on.
the tick of the clock is the boss in his anger!
the face of the clock has the eyes of a foe;
the clock—oh, i shudder—dost hear how it drives me?
it calls me "machine!"—and it cries to me "sew!"

at noon, when about me the wild tumult ceases,
and gone is the master, and i sit apart,
and the dawn in my brain is beginning to glimmer,
that would comes agape at the core of my heart;
and tears, bitter tears flow; ay, tears that are scalding;
they moisten my dinner—my dry crust of bread;
they choke me,—i cannot eat;—no, no, i cannot!
oh, horrible toil i born of need and dread.

the sweatshop at mid–day—i'll draw you the picture:
a battlefield bloody;the conflict at rest;
around and about me the corpses are lying;
the blood cries aloud from the earth's gory breast.
a moment... and hark! the loud signal is sounded,
the dead rise again and renewed is the fight...
they struggle, these corpses; for strangers, for strangers!
they struggle, they fall, and they sink into night.

i gaze on the battle in bitterest anger,
and pain, hellish pain wakes the rebel in me!
the clock—now i hear it aright!—it is crying:
"an end to this bondage! an end there must be!"
it quickens my reason, each feeling within me;
it shows me how precious the moments that fly.
oh, worthless my life if i longer am silent,
and lost to the world if in silence i die.

the man in me sleeping begins to awaken;
the thing that was slave into slumber has passed:
now; up with the man in me! up and be doing!
no misery more! here is freedom at last!
when sudden: a whistle!—the boss—an alarum!—
i sink in the slime of the stagnant routine;—
there's tumult, they struggle, oh, lost is my ego;—
i know not, i care not, i am a machine!...