"Guns don't kill people. Bad fashion kills people!"

"Life's too short to drink cheap alcohol."

I don't want
No I really don't want
To be John Lithgow
Or Jane Curtin
But I'll settle for love

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hunted by the american dream
Wednesday, August 04, 2004  
Jon isn't all that busy. Sure, he's not sitting at home watching Dr. 90210 or something, but still, he need not ignore us so. From a email he sent early today:

I woke up at 1 PM (awesome).
I went down the street to get coffee (awesome).
I read outside for a couple of hours (again, awesome).
I read from Miami and Salvador by Joan Didion (awesome).
I cleaned (not quite awesome, but left feeling v. accomplished).
I went down to Old Town to see a movie (awesome).
I went by myself because Joe and Christopher never called me back (slightly less than awesome).
I saw A Home at the End of the World (awesome, not as good as the book, slightly depressing).
I got on the train to head to Hyde Park for dinner (awesome).
I got a message from Christopher saying there is no dinner because they are fighting (rapidly descending into depression, given my fragile emotional state post-movie and resulting need to be around people I love).
I got a message from Chris saying we're having dinner at his house (awesome, coming back up).
I thought how smart I was just to get on the train (awesome).
I called Chris to tell him I was on my way, left message (awesome).
I receive call from Chris while already in the Loop and he says no dinner (rapid spiral back into depression).
I ride the train back around the circle of the Loop and up to my stop (depression continues).
I go sit at the lake and read and have a drink (awesome, sort of...)
I call my Mom (not helping the depression).
I try, unsuccessfully, to convince my Mom to vote for Kerry because the president hates her son's people (rage/depression).
I go to bar, drink with straight male friends (much, much better).

2:14 PM

Monday, August 02, 2004  
So Jon has disappeared on us.

The other day he and I were emailing when I jokingly requested he give to me his username and password. He has apparently forgotten this blog's existence; I've decided to rectify this most disappointing neglect.

So here I am. Ironic, really, since I rarely update my own blog.

Anyway, an update that most of Mr. Quinn's readers probably need not: Jon's moved. Jon's gainfully employed. Jon's still fabulous, and he's still playing some form of Russian Roulette with his liver.

And since it's something of a leit-motif here at HBTAD: Holy Shit!

Just for good measure, you know.

11:42 AM

Wednesday, May 26, 2004  
Things are crazy.

I move on Saturday.

I haven't slept much.

Work is good. Intense and a little confusing, but good.

If you want my new contact information, email me.

Sorry I can't write more. Might not be able to write for awhile.

9:34 PM

Friday, May 21, 2004  
Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Jesus H. Christ.

I got it. I got the job.

I start Monday.


12:17 AM

Wednesday, May 19, 2004  
Holy shit, I'm posting again.

I don't know that I have much to say, though. What I went up to the museum for turned out to be a second round interview, which wasn't entirely clear to me until it was practically over. The first question out of Peter's mouth: "Why is art important to you?" Gar. I kind of felt a little ambushed. But hey, at least I made it to the second round, right? The last guy who had this job had an MFA. Right? Right? Eh.

Suffice it to say, this has put me in a sufficiently shitty/pissy mood that my normal ability to function has been severely compromised. This morning I was planning on waking up at 8:30 and going to Admissions and talking to Ted about possibilities for me in Admissions (here, at NU, at DePaul), but I couldn't wake up until 11. As I was walking into the Reynolds Club, someone that I know was sitting at the Senior Class Gift table and said, "Hey, Jon..." in a sing-song like, "come over here and give us some money" kind of way. I said, very abruptly, and I didn't know if it was possible for me to be this mean, "No. Don't talk to me. Don't even ask. I'm NOT giving you money. Not now. Don't bother me," walked past her, and went upstairs. I saw her later and apologized for being so mean to her and told her that I was simply in a bad mood this morning. She asked if I had something against her or against the Senior Class Gift and I said no and then backtracked and said, "Yes, actually, I have A LOT against the senior class gift, but that's neither here nor there."


Had a cry last night before I fell asleep. It only took me an hour and a half to fall asleep last night, which is good. My average is about two.

Fuck. I shouldn't be this down, but I can't quite help it.

I applied for two jobs today. One at Steppenwolf working as an assistant to the Publicity Director, and one as a middle school Humanities teacher at a private school in Spanish Harlem in NYC.

Oh, fuck.

10:08 PM

Monday, May 17, 2004  
Whoa. It's been awhile since I've updated.


And further apologies: this may be a tear-stained entry. I've been looking at pictures of gay weddings in Massachusetts that have been happening all day. George is out there interviewing people for his upcoming book on gay marriage. He may actually get to go to the Goodridge's wedding. Big boss vented a considerable amount of frustration today, asking why we would want to participate in an institution that's so obviously broken (about which I KIND of agree with her). But you can't deny that people want to. And it's so beautiful that they can.


So, as to why I didn't update: there was the trip to Florida, where I found out that my dog died and my mother continued to drill into my head that my grandmother is going to. Then there was my exam (cf previous ranting, delusional posts that make no sense). I've been really busy since then trying to catch up on work, getting an apartment, and panicking about job stuff. Seriously. The waiting has gotten so bad that I can't focus and that I'm having trouble falling asleep.

The good news is that I found a place to live. It's on Wellington and Sheridan, for those of you who know Chicago. A little further south and east than I wanted, but it's not in Hyde Park and it's a HUGE studio.

The other sort of good news is that I may have a job as of tomorrow. I received a call from Peter at the MCA and he asked me to come in and speak with him and the Director of Administration (sort of like the Chief Operating Office of the place) tomorrow at 3. So I may have good news.

No need for an article link. Check out The Globe for details about gay marriage.

Danielle Allen on Brown v. Board. 50 Years today!

Check out the newest from the folks at Gothamist: Chicagoist, edited by my friend Margaret.

9:13 PM

Monday, May 10, 2004  
Marauding band of drag queens steals luxury cars.
3:20 AM

Fo shizzle. It's 3 AM, I have approximately 13.75 hours until my exam is due, and I've complete drafts of both questions. I've edited the first draft, but haven't yet applied those edits. I think I'm going to edit the other one tomorrow morning, apply both sets of edits, and call it quitzzz, Aimee Mann-style.

Apologies to sane readers out there: this is about the time of night/caffeination when things get a little crazy.

As if we needed more proof that people at this school were a little funked-up: during the middle of the light drizzle that accompanied a really fucking cool lightning storm, three or four kids were outside doing a rain dance. Yes, that's right. They were in Bartlett Quad (Bartyard for short), flailing their arms about and yelling rain at each other and passers-by.

Fo shizzle, indeed.

2:59 AM

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