Grinding teeth, racing heart, short on time, missed dinners, no alcohol or coffee please, no time for friends, movies are too long, sun rising from my desk at work. All for a prep football scoreboard that we adapted and developed for pjstar.com. There’s also a photo blog I created, and the weekly River City Roundup episode (this time from a farm in Wyoming… Illinois.) On the plus side, I now have a rudimentary knowledge of Drupal.

So I’m checking myself into a work detox program. With all the OT I’ve earned the past two weeks, I’m afraid of turning in such a leaden timecard, possibly upsetting the delicate newsroom budget like heavy cargo on a listing ship. And since vacation time is in short supply, I’m taking comp time. See you in a week, newspaper ball and chain!

To celebrate such a miraculous break, there are two YouTube videos I need you to see.

First up: the Nicholas Brothers in “Stormy Weather.” Consider for a moment that this was filmed in the 1940s, a time before camera motion capture and fancy editing techniques. This is unmatched dance, especially that crotch-busting maneuver they perform over and over again.

Second prize: a terrifying Betty Boop cartoon mixed with Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher.” What a find! In a late-night daze, I saw a Facebook post from a friend with Hugh Laurie’s version, but soon went down the long and winding road of Internet linkdom. I can’t come up with a modern equivalent to this seedy, creepy, very adult bit of cartoon. [update from the web: The Fleischer Studios were renowned for their use of Rotoscope – a process they patented – used sometimes in the Betty Boop cartoons. The Old Man of the Mountain dancing is actually Cab Calloway doing those smooth moves, drawn over by the animators.]

As you can imagine from such a pretentious blog title, I’m about to spend several paragraphs making this T.S. Eliot title relate to my mundane everyday life. Grab some java and pin those eyelids up A Clockwork Orange-style.

This actually isn’t going well at all. There’s a beautiful woman manning (or womaning?) the counter at Barnes & Noble at the moment. She’s single-handedly threatening to derail this entire entry. Don’t I need to buy something? Anything? I did just acquire my first blue-ray player not so long ago, so maybe I should load up a shopping cart full of overpriced discs. She’s staring RIGHT AT ME from 50 feet away. Wait, can you tell the direction of a gaze from 50 feet away?

Well, this is unfortunate. Due to the expensive costs of electronic ink, this will have to be cut short. I traveled to Chicago in early July, not for my usual urban meandering, but to meet an old friend I’ve known for 8 years yet have never met. And since this blog was at one time the official diarist of my life, I feel a sense of duty to document the occurrence. With a 10mm fisheye lens.

Of course, she also documented our touristy adventures. The Bean was not to be missed (and really, still draws me after dozens of visits.) And a simple quest for self-rising flour capped a rather lovely day.

My father, upon seeing her photos, send me an email remarking on my rolled-up pant legs (due to fountain-splashing.) And that’s how we get to the excerpt from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” below.

Nice to finally meet you, Laura.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.

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BATH, Ill. – Some folks said I had a fish shape imprinted on the back of my t-shirt. An 8 pound silver Asian carp flying at full speed into your back will do that, I suppose.

Welcome to the 5th annual Redneck Fishing Tournament, a unique experience in the seen-better-days town of Bath. Each year, dozens of teams from Illinois and even as far beyond as Washington state come here to bag as many of these flying fish as possible. Actually, nets and hands are the only tools allowed these anglers. But even those prove unnecessary, as these suicidal fish often pile into your boat on their own accord.

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