Some random notes, as long as I'm here:

--For all you new readers out there, a little warning - as much as I would like to, I simply can't mention simple notices about your upcoming artistic projects here, because I get a zillion of them a week and wouldn't have space to even write my entries if I did. (I got an especially large amount of them this weekend, as you can imagine, after posting that Overwintering review on Friday. Oh, and here's part 2, in case you're reading this before I've gotten a chance to get to the internet cafe and combine them.) If, however, you'd be willing to slip me a free ticket (or if your event is free to begin with), I'd be more than happy to actually attend your event and write a review of it. This is precisely what I'll be doing on August 12th, for example, concerning reader Chris Tutor's new play Mass Mind Rape at Strawdog Theatre (coincidentally located two blocks from my apartment, by the way, which is a nice bonus); and I'm more than happy to do such a thing for any other local artists as well.

Now, this also comes with a caveat, which regular readers already realize - that I don't sugarcoat these reviews, but rather put up my honest opinion about what I honestly thought. And I think this is perfectly okay to do, too, ethically speaking, because it's not like I'm picking out artists at random and dumping on them; they're the ones, after all, who contacted me, looking for some cheap and fast publicity. (Yes, all you pissy little fucking Meetro defenders, I'm talking to you.) Anyway, if you're okay with that, feel free to send invitations my way, and I'll try to say yes to as many of them as I can.

--So here's something kind of exciting - I've finally tricked out my Palm Treo 600 to the point that I can now start listening to podcasts, albeit in this messy runaround kind of way. (In a nutshell: I find new feeds using my Odeo account; have them delivered to my Bloglines account; save the ones that look interesting, and download them to my expansion card at an internet cafe once every week or two; then listen to them using TCPMP and my brand-new stereo headphone jack [and thanks again, Colin, for the great gift]. Whew!) Anyway, I've listened to maybe 10 or 15 random podcasts now, and most of them have consisted of 30 minutes of the following:

SLACKER 1: So, dude, what should we talk about?

SLACKER 2: Uh, dude, I don't know.

[Unintelligable conversation for five minutes, as random background noises drown out their voices]

SLACKER 1: Dude! I saw Speed Racer last night!

SLACKER 2: Dude! I love that theme song!

[Slackers sing entire Speed Racer theme song, from beginning to end]

And this is supposedly what's going to kill radio? Jesus. Anyway, I'm actively seeking recommendations right now on actual decent podcasts - so if you know of one, or do one yourself, please drop me a line at ilikejason at hotmail dot com and let me know.

--So what's my favorite activity these days? Why, it's soaking in my bathtub, of course, and massaging all those poor aching muscles I have these days, as a result of becoming Chicago's newest bicyclist a couple of months ago. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a good ache - that ache that says you got a real workout, that you were out there and really using your muscles, really pushing yourself to points you haven't been to before. But man, let's make no mistake; I am in pain these days!

The older I get, in fact, the more I realize that the cliche is true - that youth really is wasted on the young. I keep thinking, for example, how much easier all of this would be if I had started when I was 20, 21; how much easier I'd have it now if I had simply led a healthier life over the last 15 years. But shit, man, who's got time to be healthy when they're 21? I was too busy dropping acid, and getting high, and chain-smoking, and drinking malt liquor, and listening to punk bands as loudly as I possibly could, and popping damn trucker pills every damn chance I had. And so I find myself in the position I'm in now - wrecked liver, hearing aid, $9,000 in dental work (and counting), and an almost religious appreciation for a good workout and sore muscles.

It's not that I regret any of the experiences I had in my youth, because I don't - they're what made me who I am now, and I wouldn't be who I am now if not for them. It's just...I just wish sometimes that I'd known the meaning of the word 'moderation' back then. My body would be in much better shape now if I had, and it wouldn't take me a minute and a half now to lower myself into a hot bathtub, screaming and moaning the entire time. Ah, sweet youth! Where the fuck did you go?

--I love you. And I love you. And I love you! And I love YOU! And God, oh God, do I love Flickr, man.