End of the Line   
02:31am 17/02/2006
 
 
     
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Callback: Jared C.   
02:30am 17/02/2006
 
This post is actually from 16 April, 2007 at 8:19


I got a Facebook friend request today from an old roommate, who to this day remains the most despicable person I've met. Weird.

Read the Jared C. chronicles: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... there are more.

Apparently he's living in LA now*, doubtlessly still "living the life you wish you had."

UPDATE June 2008: Now he's back at DePaul, the very school he left because its party scene was too lame. Bummer dude!

In case you're reading this and, like Jared, imagine that you are cleverly catching me in the act of libel, you're not. I've already had to explain this once.Collapse )











UPDATE June 2008: Now he's back at DePaul, the very school he left because its party scene was too lame. Bummer dude!
 
     
 
The Whistle: A Mini-Mystery in Two Parts, part II   
02:29am 17/02/2006
  When I first heard the whistle, I had just gained consciousness. This is not when people typically do their clearest thinking. But still I hypothesized:

At first it sounded like a bird call, but I ruled that out because no bird has the attention span for notes that long. Then the train passed my building, as it does every five or ten minutes, and made the usual metal-on-metal grinding sound as it rounded the curve. The whistle sounded a little like that, too, except that the train never makes the exact same grind noise twice. Nor does it ever hit two distinguishable notes.

Then I considered construction. As developed as downtown Chicago may be, they're always finding room for another building and they'll only work on it while you're trying to sleep. But the only whistle on a construction site is stereotypically the one that signals the lunch break or the end of the day (think of the Flintstones opening sequence). I don't even think those are used anymore, since all construction workers work at desktop computers now and computers have clocks on them.

I finished this list on the elevator. When I got to the lobby, I realized I had forgotten my camera.

I got back to my room a little frustrated. For some reason, I was hurrying. I was afraid the whistle would stop, stealing my reason to ignore my obligations and ruining my sense of adventure. And then, although it had read my mind, the whistle stopped.

I stood at my window, my nose mere inches from the screen, and waited for a full minute. I listening breathlessly in complete silence.

Fifty five seconds… sixty. Low, high.

I exhaled and turned to leave, nearly forgetting my camera for a second time.

State Street was surreal. A busy artery of downtown during the day, it is almost completely empty in the wee morning hours. You could stand in the center of its intersection with Congress if you wanted and live until at least six o'clock.

Low, high. Every time I heard it, I was more relieved to not have to give up the hunt. I headed for the parking lot behind my building. Facing east on Harrison, I heard it coming from the North. Then, on Wabash, standing under the train tracks, I heard it from the west. Two men passed me on the sidewalk while I was listening intently. I didn't notice until after they had given me strange looks that I had been standing on my toes.

The whistle sounded again and I turned to face the third floor terrace of my building. Of course, I couldn't see anything up there from the ground. But why hadn't I checked there first?



The terrace was empty, as usual. I think it's under-appreciated. Then again, I moved here in the winter.



LOW, HIGH. The whistle was so loud that it startled me. The sound had come from the bushes in the corner of the terrace. I thought about jumping into them, but they are directly in front of a third floor room's patio, and I was already nervous enough about being mistaken for an intruder. This made close inspection difficult.



Ten minutes of loud whistling later, I had determined beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was awakened by nothing more than a bird outside my window.
 
     
 
The Whistle: A Mini-Mystery in Two Parts, part I   
02:28am 17/02/2006
  I went to bed early last night because sleep is the only thing I love. I slept for an uncertain amount of time until my roommate woke me up around midnight with loud music. Normally I don't mind because normally it's drum and bass electronica and normally I'm all for that and normally I sleep just fine with it. But last night was Bad Rap Night.

I didn't want to be a bitch about it so I let it go until I glanced at the clock expecting 12:30 and got 3:00 instead. I started pounding.

It took 43 pounds for him to open my door and ask if he was being too loud. I considered my answers:

No, I was drumming along with it. I just suddenly got really bad at that.
No, I'm having sex with the hole I cut in the wall we share. You're in for a surprise.
No, banging things helps me sleep.


"Yeah, actually, you've been keeping me up for hours. Normally I don't mind, but I have an early doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"Kay bro, I'll turn it down a- wait. Is it too loud right now?"

"Uh… yeah, kind of."

He disappeared for a moment. "How 'bout now?"

"That's better."

"Kay bro, you just knock if it's too much."

"Kay."

I don't feel like I slept at all. But I know that I did because I had two dreams:

In the first, I was driving in a reality that, by someone of my generation, can only be compared to a video game. I was driving up a woodsy Lombard street of sorts. It was all dirt and roots and trees, my car a low-riding cross between the tank-like Batmobile from the latest film adaptation of Batman and a Volkswagen Beetle. I was racing someone.

I won the race, however, the top of the street was at such a steep incline that it was nearly a wall, and though I had pulled my emergency brake, no tire truly sticks to the road as its maker's advertisements imply. I leaned back in my seat to gloat at my opponent and the car rolled over backwards many times.

In the second dream, I met a non-existent girl who was a singer and, in all probability, pretty good looking. I don't remember.

We were introduced for the purpose of writing and recording a song, and we were using non-existent computer software for the second part. It had a metronome that ticked like all metronomes. The strange part is that it also whistled a different note for each of the four beats of the measure. Such a feature would make a metronome utterly useless for keeping time with music, since the discrepancy of the notes would be so annoying and distracting. But on and on it went with my dream metronome: Low, high, not-so-high, still-lower-but-not-so-much-as-the-first. We were using an unrealistically slow tempo, meaning that each note was held for roughly two seconds.

The dream ended and I awoke with no idea of how the song turned out. For the second day in a row, I had beaten my 7:00 alarm by two hours. It's a great feeling to wake up naturally as the sun starts to rise.



Low, high. Bam. There it was. The first half of the metronome tune from my dream. Outside my window.

Low, high. Every 30 seconds or so. At a sixty degree dusk with just the very beginnings of the sunrise, it was absolutely enchanting. And mystifying. Which perhaps explains what happened next:

In a very short amount of time, I decided that I've been wasting a lot of life lately by worrying about school and how I'm going to get caught up with it after being on medical leave and on and on and on with this every minute counts mentality and Oh. How it has been killing me. So I got out of bed and put on some jeans and my jacket. Watch, ring, wallet, journal, pen, pencil (you never know), shoes. I decided that instead of getting up and trying to do homework because I've been trained lately to hate myself when I enjoy myself, I was going to go outside and find this whistle. I was going to explore until I found it, took a picture of it and...

I don't know. It doesn't really matter. What mattered was that I was going to go out on a great adventure on a fine spring morning and find something interesting.
 
     
 
Pat Fahey   
01:20am 16/02/2006
 

 
     
3 sidewalk cleanups| Jump
 
   
11:23am 13/02/2006
  Today I learned:

It is correct to write either canceled or cancelled. Much like advisor or adviser.

Who. Lets. This. HAPPEN?
 
     
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I Get Around   
04:26pm 11/02/2006
  The other boy (besides Det) with whom I am in love is Andrew:



He is in French class. He has this unstoppable smile and excels in the class despite not having taken any noteworthy amount of French in the past. It's a 105 course. The kid just stays up with the book the night before and aces everything. But he can hardly speak it.

Un. Believable.

(...just like his shoes).
 
     
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E-Mail From Mom   
03:41pm 11/02/2006
  You used here instead of hear, I think. and since you say "don't hold this against me" I am not sure I am allowed to tell you when you do things like that.

Love,
Mom


FTR: I welcome corrections, always.
 
     
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Facebook Valentines: Is This Awkward?   
08:27pm 10/02/2006
 

 
     
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Get This (In Any Order You Like)   
04:53pm 10/02/2006
 
  • Apparently I was supposed to work today. I did not.

Hi Colin,

It was the understanding that you were to show Joe A. the ropes at the Loop today and that you did not. What is your perspective?
    My sweat is cold.


  • Erica's mock trial team won first place at districts and is going on to states. She got best attorney.
  • The girl from the subway, the one I gave the ripped-out journal page with my URL on it, she made a livejournal and commented on mine. So let's here it for existensialism taking the extra step and being random.
  • I am playing guitar and singing, which I haven't done for about a month, maybe more, in front of some kind of audience tomorrow night. I am unprepared, and friends are coming this time. Yeesh.
  • Ste Hays got his temps.
 
     
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Tips for Panhandlers   
08:48pm 09/02/2006
  #469: Despite what you may have heard, chastising a man who has already denied you a donation will not inspire him to reconsider.  
     
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This is About Humanity! Don't you SEE?   
06:18pm 09/02/2006
  On the ride home tonight, I tore half a page out of my journal and wrote on it:

Something to read.

colinmorris.livejournal.com


I chose a person at random (young woman, in the end, early twenties, I'm guessing) and handed it to her as I disembarked.

More on this to come...

Note To The Random Young Woman, Should She Actually Visit, Which I Don't Expect: Sorry. I know, that was weird.
 
     
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"I Kinda Want to Try and Backflip my Dirtbike Off of my Roof."   
11:19am 08/02/2006
  "Partly because it would be fun, but mostly because I know I won't make it."

-Ryan B.



You know how you see ads like those and LOL a bit on the inside.
 
     
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I Open in Three Hours. I Have Not Slept.   
03:57am 08/02/2006
  "Saturdays 8:30pm

THE STAND-UP SQUEEZE COMEDY SHOWCASE

Pressure Billiards and Café

6318 N. Clark St. (just south of Devon)

Chicago, 773 -743-7665

WE NEED YOUR SUPPORT THIS WEEK!!! This week 2/11 THE CHICAGO STAND UP COMEDY TOUR preview show featuring Jeff Hansen, Mike Stanley, and Dave Odd. We are filming a CD and DVD for our upcoming cross country tour and we have The Onion and Time Out Chicago coming to see the show! You get to give your unadulterated opinion on comment cards to help shape the future of the show. With music by Colin Morris. FREE PARKING! FREE RAFFLE! FREE GIFT! $10, $5 for students.
"

I finished a new instrumental song tonight. I'm going to try and put it online, but it's 11 minutes long. Streaming on Myspace.com might be the most practical way.
 
     
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Google Earth for Mac?   
07:02pm 07/02/2006
 
mood: Holy Carp!
Since when?



Ohmygod it's so much fun!
 
     
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05:42pm 07/02/2006
  I am dehydrated.
I have hat head. Hathead.
 
     
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Coming Soon   
04:42am 07/02/2006
  Hours Until Project #2 is Due for Perceptional Principles of Digital Environments: 16
Percent Completed: 0%



Wish me luck.

Updates Including the Final ProductCollapse )
 
     
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Broke Mac Mountain   
11:35am 06/02/2006
  Heh.

(You'll need Quicktime.)


hit counter code
 
     
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"I Still Have Flour In My Ear From Last Night."   
08:30am 06/02/2006
  Colin:I'm sending a card.
Erica: No! Promise me you won't!
Colin: I'm doing it.
Erica: Colin! I won't talk to you anymore. Seriously, don't.
Colin: Too late! You've planted a seed!
 
     
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10:50pm 05/02/2006
  "If there's one thing that George Bush has done that we should never forget, it's that for us and for our children, he has shattered the myth of white supremacy once and for all," the congressman said.

A White House spokesman, Kenneth Lisaius, said: "I don't think we would dignify any such inflammatory comments with a reaction."
 
     
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