Saturday, July 29, 2006


uh oh

well today featured a first and many non-firsts. i went to party, saw an umimpressive apartment: non-firsts. i missed the solo/acoustic show by the lucero singer/guitarist, ben nichols: a first. it was fucking sold out.

i've learned my lesson.

it was disappointing, but a combination of things made me not too mad: i wasn't feeling wily enough to sneak in, they're playing on a boat next saturday, and i got a hold of the tracks of their new album today and am not as impressed as i'd hoped.

what? nathan not shellacking univeral praise on lucero? no!

it's true. the new album doesn't have quite the quiet punch of their self-titled release, nor the raw rockingness of nobody's darlings, nor the balance of that much further west.

don't get me wrong, it's still good, but my expectations had reached such a level that i suppose it would be hard to meet them. i can say this though: these songs will kick some serious ass played live. so i'm looking forward to august 5th and the rocking it will bring on a boat.

time to not be awake anymore - got some more apartments to not be pleased with tomorrow.

p.s. mike, i sent you a text message.

Friday, July 28, 2006

He Hate Me

Let Me State On This The Record

Annie's Blog is absolutely amazing and one of the best reads in the blogosphere. You guys MUST read her "On the plus side, I'm about 3 days away from unemployment" post.

Also, Angela's back in town this weekend. We'll see if Smallberg's shoulder bone survives this time.

Thursday, July 27, 2006


identity: updated

it has come to this i have a new blogger picture and name. sigh. it's like i'm in hiding, though i suppose it's for the best in the long run.

any suggestions for a new name?

i was thinking something jox related, but that is clearly merceriful.

so i'll open this up to you guys, what should my new alias be?

Wednesday, July 26, 2006


10% battery and falling

so i think someone (other than the people who normally read this blog) has managed to connect my identity across all 3 of the blogs on which i post. this has disheartened me. it's not like i tried too hard to keep them separate, but the nathan on the continuing thesis blog is pretty different from the nathan here, and both from the nathan at my blog of employment.

i think the best way to put it is this:
one nathan has stuff to say
one nathan gets paid
one nathan has probably been drinking (and inexplicably uses all lower case)

oh well.

good work whoever you are.

the apartment search continues, i met with some sketchy italian-mobster type today who showed me nothing i liked, but i had to let him down easy so as not to wake up in the trunk of his car somewhere in jersey. but seriously, i don't like railroaded bedrooms without windows, no matter where they are.

now all these weird brokers have my contact info. i fully expect to be getting calls from them for the next year or so asking if i want to see the windowless 200 square foot apartment in bed-stuy. i don't want to see it.

additionally, our internet is down right now, so i'm hanging out in a local internet/coffee place, running desperately short on battery life. i'm told this issue will be fixed on thursday.

someone installed a game cube at work.

Monday, July 24, 2006


If at 22 you are not a Green ...

As I drunkenly mentioned to several people this weekend, my slide towards the conservatism of old age has begun: I'm now registered as a Democrat in the State of Connecticut.

However, if Joe Lieberman loses the Democratic primary, I'm throwing a huge party in pistol-wavin' New Haven, to which you will all be invited.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006



note to our blog-reading public: do not reveal possibly sensitive secrets in the company of bloggers.

can a blogger be fired for blogging?

more on this and an eventful few weeks after sleep and other things-gone-down.

Monday, July 17, 2006

He Hate Me

Oh What A Night

This past weekend, the Towers of Dominion played host to Angela as well as Mike Sa.'s friend, Scott. Up until now, Scott was generally known to us as the guy who thought he had to fart but ended up shitting on Mike Sa.'s kitchen floor. Now he's known as the guy who sent Smallberg to the hospital.

Don't worry, the Jew is resilient and will be fine. He is resting back at the apartment and taking a well-deserved day off. Because of my various intoxicated states and the sheer amount of trife that took place in such a short period of time, I will not attempt to recount all that led to the incident and its aftermath but here's the basic story:

On Friday night, Scott challenged me to a wrestling match and obviously I did not decline. He kicked my ass. Twice. The next day, the Mike's continued to rip on me about it so I challenged them to take on Scott. Scott offered to fight without using his arms (a la our previous fights at 17 Thayer). Smallberg accepted and a violent confrontation erupts. Scott pretty much wiped the floor with him and slammed into the floor and wall on a couple occasions. The fight stopped with Scott bleeding from an opened scab and Smallberg wincing in pain.

We really didn't think anything of it until a couple hours later when Smallberg, still in noticable pain, started searching through his maps to find the closest hospital. Being the assholes we were, we didn't drive him there until we all had a few drinks. A couple hours later we finally left to go to the hospital.

As we waited in the waiting room for his X-rays to come back, we got bored. So we left. Other Mike and Scott went to go get Chinese food and Angela and I went back to the apartment and did some Keifer. On the way back to the hospital, me and Angela stopped to pick up our own Chinese food and then picked up Smallberg who was preparing to put on his sling.

Smallberg fractured his scapula. Basically, he broke his right shoulder blade. According to the American Academy of Orthapedic Surgeons:
Triangular, mobile and protected by a complex of surrounding muscles, the shoulder blade (scapula) is rarely broken. Scapula fractures represent less than 1 percent of all broken bones. High-energy, blunt trauma such as a motorcycle or car crash or falling from significant height can fracture the scapula and cause other major injuries such as broken ribs or damage to the head, lungs or spinal cord. Symptoms include:

  • Extreme pain when you move the arm.

  • Swelling around the back of the shoulder.

  • Skin abrasions.
So we picked up our Chinese food and it was delicious. Oh, and Smallberg will be alright -- plus he got Percocet. He got fucked up, to be sure, but he's already up and moving pretty well and should be back at 100% soon. I told you guys trife would ensue.

Friday, July 14, 2006

He Hate Me

Turning The Corner

Things are looking up.
  • LeBron signed a three-year contract extension with the Cavs.
  • My job is incredible in ways that I can't explain and am not allowed to discuss.
  • Angela's in town for a couple days and requisite trife has ensued.
  • The mouse I got from the Mike's for my birthday is adjusting well to his new home. In honor of one of the great entertainers of our time, his name is "Little Michael McDonald" or "Li'l Mack" for short.
  • At long last, jogging ensued.
After a tumultuous end to my 21st year, 22 has treated me pretty well.

I can't wait to get back up to Providence for a trife/hipster reunion.  I can co-Project Manage this expedition but a second Manager (as well as Adam's floor) will be neccessary if we are to pull this off. Partying, East Side Pockets, and Providence Kickball are all musts.

I will leave you with this:

Dog Blamed for Hitting Woman With Truck

Friday, July 14, 2006
(07-14) 04:41 PDT Ogden, Utah (AP) --

A police dog that was left in a pickup truck with the engine running apparently knocked the vehicle into gear and ran down a woman who was walking to her mailbox.

Mary F. Stone, 41, was expected to remain hospitalized with a fractured pelvis and tailbone until at least Friday, said her husband, Paul Stone.

The dog, a German shepherd named Ranger, had been left in the truck while its handler responded to a domestic disturbance call Tuesday, police Lt. Loring Draper said. The truck's engine was on so Ranger would have air conditioning.

Draper said Ranger must have hit the shift on the steering column, putting the automatic transmission into gear. As the truck slowly rolled forward, police officers yelled to Stone, but she couldn't get out of the way in time, he said.

Thursday, July 13, 2006



Brandon has LeBron, I have

Franck Ribery

When an Italian official complains about the French team being made up of "blacks, Islamists, and communists," my heart swells with pride. And then I wonder: Which ones are the communists?

Monday, July 10, 2006

He Hate Me


Thursday, July 06, 2006

harry j. blige

groustalgia / "diving"

It would have been enough that Nathan stayed over at 7 Pitman Street a few nights ago. Then yesterday I had to go ahead and hear a mash-up of Blur's "Song 2" and K. Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone." I pretty much lost it.

As also regards losing, I vote F. Grosso's game winner on Tuesday against Germany as the moment of the tournament thus far. Friends of mine accuse the Italians of excessive on-pitch theatrics. I couldn't disagree, but I also think their style of play is more stylized, entertainingly improvisational than any other of the more sober, calculating West. European teams.
That said, I think spectators (often curly-haired, Queens-bred) who so fiercely rebuke the Italians and others for exaggerating their reactions to tackles hold to a ridiculous ideal of what it is to "just play the game." Under the current rules, with the current referees, and (thankfully) without the aid of instant-replay jurisdiction, one can hurt the other team through well-timed facial expressions just as much as through well-placed shots on goal.

Tennis-playing, gourmet faux-Men who dispute the courage of Portugese and Italian footballers neglect the basis of fandom--putting themselves on the pitch, imagining what it might be to collide at 20mph with a hulking, remorseless Swede. To sympathize with the players is to both honor a foul when such is committed, and also understand their impulse to wince prematurely or for too long after the tackle so as to punish the opponent (both the individual who had the nerve to even consider injuring the actor, and the whole opposing team).

Players who do actually become impaired by an opponent's foul, but do not react accordingly, and do not get a call, and "tough it out," are putting themselves at a disadvantage. On the other hand, if indeed they do "dive," players take themselves out of a potentially critical opportunity on the field. It shouldn't come as a surprise that some of the best strikers in international competition have the ability to wear such vivid faces of agony: they are like extremely young magicians, characterized as much by deceiving goalkeepers with dancing, overstepping shins (the magic trick) as deceiving referees by clutching on their thigh and cringing ("It hurts me, Mother, when you ignore my talent 4 magic: get off the phone and watch me!").

As anyone who has spent time with very young (4-5 yrs old) children knows, they are as likely to cry from a near-boo-boo as the boo-boo itself, and will sometimes just break down weeping because they are being ignored, or because they cannot get what they want. Full-grown footballers who willingly insert themselves into boo-boo ridden circumstances (dressing for the game, going in strong on an attack) cannot be held accountable for their necessarily acquiring the other pre-adolescent emotions that come with this territory. And really, when one is trying to determine the worth of a star footballer, or at least his goal scoring potential, why not begin in discerning his capacity for that maniacal self-interestedness and disregard for other people most associated with children? Great players like Portugal's Ronaldo exemplify this. How a great team comes about, well, that's another matter.

Monday, July 03, 2006


i actually bought some cheese on saturday

i am in providence on what i'd like to call a nostalgia tour.

nostalgia, like wine or cheese or any other over-used comparison, gets better with age. but sometimes fresh nostalgia is thoroughly enjoyable. closer to the milk or grapes.