Rules are as follows: You comment on this entry requesting an interview. I respond with five questions. The questions will theoretically be tailored to you based on what I know of you (or want to know). You copy and paste those questions into your own journal, and write the answers, along with these rules. Anyone wanting an interview from you continues the game by requesting an interview from you.
And serendipidy and somebodystrange, I'm working on questions for you, but you might not get them until Saturday.
1. Your self-described self destruction concerns me from time to time. Sometimes, I regard it as the remarkably honest descriptions of emotions we all feel shared by a bright and sturdy man more than capable of taking care of his emotional faculties. Other times, I am concerned that a friend is unable to see the worth and value in himself that his own friends see, and this blindness may cause continual harm if not corrected. Pardon the preamble, but my question is: should I be worried about you? And if the answer is yes, then apart from beating you over the head with a whip weaved of your own self-worth, what can I do to help?
To paraphrase Rev. Timothy Lovejoy, "Short answer no with a but, long answer yes with an if."
I have real, diagnosed psychological problems, most of which can be filed under the general headings "clinical depression" and "attention deficit disorder", but with elements of a few other personality...issues as well. I've been fighting them since at least 1990, and I've been getting treatment on and off since 1996 (cf. Question #3). The good news is that they're all treatable with professional, zealous counseling (or, as I've been known to term it, "my brain medicines"). The problem is that until the first of this year, I haven't had health insurance continuously since mid-20001, and as any of you who've been without health insurance know, no insurance means no delicious, expensive brain medicines. Anyway, now that my insurance has kicked in--presuming I can hold on to it--I should be able to get to a doctor, get a referral for a brain doctor, and get back on drugs and back to what passes for normalcy. (That's "no with a but".) Here's the thing, though: who knows how long I'll continue at this job? Who knows when my self-control will slip? I don't think I'll ever be a danger to anyone else, but I wonder if I'm not an almost constant danger to myself, and if my resolve fails, then yes, it's definitely time to worry. (That's "yes with an if".)
Huge ups for "beating you over the head with a whip weaved of your own self-worth", BTW.
2. That first one is heavy. Let's lighten it up: who are the five sexiest women alive and will you please share pictures of them?
Hmmm...let's see. For an extra degree of difficulty, I'm keeping this to pictures that are undeniably work-safe. #1, #2, and #3 are easy:
1) Scarlett Johansson. Esquire had it right, yo.
2) Rosario Dawson. The kind of woman that makes you question the nonexistence of God.
3) Eva Green. She'd be a contender for this list if she had a voice like a donkey getting stung by a cloud of hornets. But that accent...
4) Marcia Cross. Fair-skinned, pale redheads, dude. Like Kryptonite they are, and Ms. Cross is aging like a fine Burgundy.
5) Amanda Palmer. Ms. Palmer is the borderline-terrifying voice/pianist/genius behind The Dresden Dolls. She scares me, dude, but she does it in all the right ways. For a quick sample, click here. (That's her on the left.)
Yes, yes. I know. Je suis un porc. But he asked, and I had to answer honestly.
3. Back to heavy. I think the only thing stopping you from taking over the world is the requisite education we seem to require of those who'd govern us. Am I right? If so, what prevents a return to school--any school--garnering even the most basic of degrees--say, rhetoric for example? Hell, monkeys can get rhetoric degrees.
Well, that and the fact that I'm sort of unelectable--but watch for me to Rove up a certain arettber starting in the early portion of the next decade2.
The real answer to this actually ties in significantly with #1 above. The A-number-1 reason I didn't go back to Valpo after my first year was that my grades were TERRIBLE. If I wasn't actually a member of the Square Root Club3, it was close. The reason that my grades were so bad is that I fell into this rather lovely spiral:
- I was depressed.
- So I couldn't get out of bed beyond checking e-mail.
- So I didn't go to class.
- So my grades slipped.
- So I got more depressed.
- So I was less likely to go to class...
As for why not now...this may come as a shock, but I like things. I like accumulating items. In order to do this, I need a way to get currency on a regular basis, and that can be very hard to come by when one is a full-time student, which I think I'd need to be. Additionally, outside of possibly pursuing a film studies courseload, I don't know that there's anything I'd want to study. Plus...I'm scared. The last time I was regularly in a classroom setting, it nearly killed me. Now I'm superreluctant to try again because it might recur.
Whiny-assed, mealy-mouthed, weasely fuckin' reasons they may be, but they're mine.
4. Did you enjoy Mclusky or not? And who should I be listening to these days?
McLusky is growing on me, much like kudzu. This means that if left unattended, I will likely end up covered in McLusky.
Five names for you to be listening to:
1) The Roots. Game Theory was my second-favorite hip-hop record of '06, but to really get into them, pick up Phrenology, from '02. Socially conscious rap backed by one of the finest live bands you'll hear. If dancing is the bright shining center of the universe, then I am the planet it is farthest from, but holy hell, Phrenology's "The Seed (2.0)" makes even ME want to shake bootily.
2) Lupé Fiasco. Lupé Fiasco Presents Food and Liquor was my favorite hip-hop record of '06. Highly critical of the bling-bling-gangsta-hos-and-bitches school of thought, Chicago's own Lupé raps about life as he sees it, and brings in minor names like Jay-Z and Kanye West to help him out. "Kick, Push" is the hot single, but if you've only got 99 cents left on this Earth, you could do much worse than to get "Daydream", which features a ridiculous sample and a vocal assist from Jill Scott.
3) The Bottle Rockets. The best damn bar band in the land. Last year's Zoysia picked up an out-of-nowhere recommendation from Stephen King, of all people, and it's damn fine stuff, built around well-written, honest songs. I've got bunches of their material dating back well over ten years and at some point, I'll burn it all up for you.
4) Nelly McKay. Superclever, hyperwitty, and devastatingly talented. Grab either Get Away From Me or Pretty Little Head and discover why I like this 21-year-old New Yorker who's been described, accurately, as the impossible spawn of Doris Day and Eminem.
5) And for fucksake: if you're not already a fan of PJ Harvey, you've got until the end of next week, or I'm not sure I even want to know you. Try Dry, To Bring You My Love, or Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea.
5. You are "Groundhog Day"d into one 24 hour period of your life. Which day would you choose? Is it one in which you have regrets to repair, or is it such a joyful day that you want to live it again and again?
The latter, I think--I worry about the butterfly effect consequences of changing things, even for the better4. Maybe some Wednesday when all the good customers came in, and there was good product on the shelves that week, and I could discuss it with them. Still, even this would probably drive me batshit insane before too long as well.
Wait, no. Here it is: April 1, 2006. I didn't write about it much at the time for whatever reason, but that was one of the best goddamn days of my life. I got up early to attend a wedding in the Loop, then I spent the rest of the day wandering around downtown Chicago (Loop/Mag Mile/Streeterville) on foot. I stopped by Niketown and they happened to be offering free pictures with the White Sox World Series trophy that day. My maternal grandfather was born on the South Side and was a Sox fan his whole life, even after resettling in upstate New York. I was able, while I was in line for my picture, to make a small sign to hold up, and now I have a picture of me with the trophy and the line "In memory of Stanley J. Motkowicz, Sox fan all his 80 years", and I was moved near to weeping (and in thinking on it, I'm near to it again now). Then I wandered through all 8 floors of Water Tower Place, which I hadn't done in at least ten years, I saw the very first apartment building we lived in when we moved here from New York--it's in the shadow of the Hancock building and full of furnished studio apartments; my dad had been living there by himself while my mom took care of selling our house back east. And then I walked through the Museum of Contemporary Art, saw the Andy Warhol exhibit that was there at the time (dull) as well as a couple of other really spectacular pieces--one of which moved me to hand-write two full pages in the reaction book that was available. Then I left the museum, wandered around some more, stopped for a somewhat more upscale lunch than I'm used to, then walked back to the train--I probably walked close to five miles that day. Then I trained back out to the suburbs and drove back into the city, this time up to Andersonville for further weddingy festivities and TMLMTBGB. Starting and ending with joyous friends with a long period of solitude and discovery in between? It doesn't get any better than that.
1In fact, except for about a month and a half in the first quarter of 2003, I haven't had health insurance at all since mid-2000.
2I'm not kidding.
3Defined as those students whose GPA is lower than the square root of their GPA; this is only possible when the number is less than one. For example, the square root of 0.81 is 0.9. Dig?
4Although the possibility of going back and beating Hinsdale $%#&ing Central in the Scholastic Bowl Sectional my senior year is awfully tempting, particularly when you take into account how we got screwed.