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Notes from the Underground Volume 2 Number 6 - A Day in the Life 'Kay, so it's been a while. Don't quite know why. Maybe all the genetic engineering our government's allowed into the food supply has rotted my brain and caused my synapses to snap one by one. Maybe it's because subliminal messages on Murdoch and Co. Media have slowly wrapped their tentacles around my throat and my oxygen supply is restricted. Maybe it's because I've got my own place again, and the chickens got a little spoiled from the luxe accomodations at my parent's pad, so they're acting out and keeping me up all hours of the night. Maybe it's because my damn bathtub spews a foul brown sludge every time I turn the rusty faucet so I've taken to giving myself sponge baths with the aid of my little kitchen sink. Whatever the cause, I haven't been good for much lately, so I thought I'd spare you entries about the contents of my 'fridge (mustard, soy sauce and some leftovers from god-knows-when that needs to be tossed, in case you're curious) and wait until I had some real content to share. Sorry to disappoint. So in lieu of a story with some hijinks and drama, I thought I'd share with y'all a day in the life of Crazy Pete. I think you'll find your fill of hijinks, if not exactly drama, in today's posting. Hopefully by the next time I update, the revolution will be at hand, and we'll have lots to discuss. If not, I can detail the contents of my pantry. Just a hint: ramen noodles dominate. 3:07 a.m.- One of the roosters starts crowing, waking me up out of a dream involving me and Foghorn Leghorn. You know, that guy from the old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Anyway, my very first cartoon dream gets interrupted when one of my roosters starts crowing and gets the other one going. Pretty soon it sounds like a bad Hee-Haw skit in here. I lie in bed, wondering how long I'll be able to live here before the inevitable "chickens-are-NOT-a-part-of-this-lease-you-moron" discussion with building management. 3:12 - Vow to check out a book on soundproofing from the library tomorrow. Congratulate self for finally having such an idea! 3:14 - Remember last year's "banned for life" sentencing after chickens had their way with a couple of Chicago Public Library Logan Square Division-owned Louis Prima albums. Rack my brain trying to think of a friend whose library card I could use, when I realize I'm the only one in my circle who would let Big Library know my whereabouts. Consider finding some less paranoid friends. 3:20 or so - Back to slumberland. 5:37 - Someone's banging around in the Dumpster behind my building, and this sets the roosters off again. 5:39 - Set down some fresh food for the chickens. They just look at me like, "You dumbass, do you think we'll stop crowing just 'cause you set down some food? Hah! We're gonna nibble on some food and then resume crowing, idiot. Don't you remember this from yesterday morning?" Go back to bed with pillow mashed over my head to drawn out the crowing, accepting that I am just a pawn in the chicken's game. 9:49 - Okay, Pete, it's time to get up. 10:04 - Really, this time I mean it zzzzzzzzzzz. 10:23 - Phone call from mom haranguing me about miscellaneous stains in the carpet assures that I am finally up. By the way, can anyone prove that the stains in her carpet were left by my chickens? Short of having some kind of DNA specialist take a carpet sample, I don't think we'll have a conclusive verdict. And I'm not going by what some rug shampoo guy says. What does he know about the complexities of DNA identification? 10:29 - Pet and water the chickens. Time for a sponge bath -- move over dishes! 10:45 - All clean and spankin' new to start the day out right. What's next? Ramen breakfast! 10:46 - Scour the pantry, sure that there was at least one package left. Why do you torment me, O Ramen gods? All I can find is chicken feed, a couple cans of olives, some Goya beans and a carton of soymilk. This will not do. 10:49 - While readying self to go out and scare up some ramen at the local grocery, Owl calls to detail his latest romantic despair. Turns out his girlfriend is tired of reinforcing the patriarchy and has left him for someone named Diane. Owl is crying. Owl is ranting. Owl is whining. Pete's eyes are glazing over. I'd be more sympathetic, but this happens all the time with Owl. 10:58 - Notice a small hole in my kitchen wall while Owl drones on. Wonder if I am being spied on. Vow to investigate later. 11:04 - Owl gets mad when I suggest he might want to rethink his habit of hitting on women at the Ani DiFranco section of the record store, so he hangs up. Now, where were we? Ah, yes - ramen! César's around the corner is always stocked up, plus the cashier is kind of cute. Last time I was there, she either winked at me or she had something in her eye. Or she's got a nervous twitch. Whatever. Now's my chance to explore this further. 11:08 - Fill my little basket with ramen packages and mosey on down to the check-out aisle where Angela - at least I think that's what the stockboy calls her - is waiting with her nimble fingers to run up my order. But, alas, no wink this time. When I ask her if she ever might stock my favorite brand of marinated tofu, she gives me a blank stare. Perhaps not a love connection after all. 11:13 - Back home, the phone's already ringing. Remind self to look into caller-id. It's the neighbor lady from across the hall - says she's been hearing strange sounds from my apartment. "Like what kind of sounds?" I ask. "I don't know. Like farm animals or something." 11:16 - Finally get off the phone with her after making a convincing argument that said "farm animal sounds" were actually clanking pipes. That sound strangely like roosters. Don't know how long I'll be able to pull this charade off. 11:24 - Start the water a-boilin'...It's ramen time, people! 11:37 - Today was festive Italian ramen day: noodles, basil, oregano, dried parsley, salt and pepper. What is it about ramen that it has an endless potential for variety? And what is it about the gentle yet firm noodle that delights my senses so? 12:06pm - The Animal Revenge Front! is holding its monthly meeting across town. It started at noon, but it would probably freak everyone out if I showed up on time. Besides, I've got a secret weapon. Thanks to three days of hauling fiberglass insulation up to the rafters of the Presbyterian Worker's shelter last week, I scored enough cash to finally get that alternator I needed, and voila! I've got wheels again. I've been driving my old '67 Cutlass for two days now, and I haven't blown anything yet. So instead of the Ashland Avenue bus, I'll be cruisin' into the Anarchist's Collective in style. I get in through the rear passenger side door (the only one that opens), crawl over the bench seat, and hit the ignition. 12:08 - I'm under the hood of my car, trying to adjust my carbeurator with a coat hanger, and secretly cursing the security guard at the courthouse who confiscated my buck knife at the metal detector. I feel helpless without it. Besides I'm totally nonviolent. I only use it for preparing food or when I'm working on my car. In fact, I wasn't even going to my own trial. I was there in solidarity with my friend Spyder who was busted for protesting at a sporting goods store that was selling fur-lined gloves. Well, actually he protested by trying to shoplift a pair of women's gloves (his girlfriend's birthday was coming up) which is not something I would have done, and so now I'm kinda starting to blame him for the fact that I'm trying two turn these little screws with a coat hanger. 12:45 - Ah, the sweet smell of exhaust. I jump through the back door and over the seat, kick off the brick that's been holding the gas pedal down, and start revvin' 'er up. 1:12 - I arrive at my buddy Chipmunk's house. He's in a crabby mood today. He's all wigged out because I'm late, and he's upset that there's no floor on his side of the car and he has to sit with his feet either in the air or pushed up against the glovebox. Geez, dude, next time I'll let you take the damn bus. 1:37 - We arrive at the Anarchist's Collective, and find a semi-legal parking space. Apparently, Dove hasn't shown up yet, because the meeting is going on out on the front sidewalk. Dove works for the Anarchist's Collective and she's also a part of ARF! She's the only of us one trusted with the keys since that bonfire fiasco that burned down their North Avenue space last year. She's supposed to be working today anyway, but she recently started going to these Natural Rhythm Spirit services, and she's taken some kind of oath that she won't look at any kind of a clock or calendar, so who knows when she'll show up. 2:12 - Dove finally rides up on her old Schwinn, and asks us why we're all so early. She unlocks the door, and we all pile in, and settle into some folding chairs. Now the meeting begins in earnest out of public earshot. We start right in talking about our next big action. But I'm not gonna tell you what we talk about doing, or who we talk about doing it to, or when we're planning to do this thing we're gonna do. In fact, I'm not even gonna say who's there or even if I'm there. For all of you reading this who happen to be from the CIA, the FBI, or the Department of Homeland Security, and I know you're there, I hate to disappoint you, but you're barking up the wrong tree. If you want to know what we talk about at this meeting, you can just go to www.kissmyass.com. 4:45 - The ARF! meeting finally wraps up, and Birch decides to join Chipmunk and me for a little shopping -- Crazy Pete style. We hop in the Cutlass (Chipmunk graciously lets Birch ride shotgun), which for some inexplicable but happy reason fires up on the first turn. We tear down the road on our way to Whole Foods. 5:09 - The dumpsters behind Whole Foods are a rockin' tonight. A lot of foods expired today. I find half a case of ramen noodles -- organic ones even. I get a little ticked at myself for wasting nearly four bucks on a week's worth of Ramens at César's this morning. We also score some great juice, some potatoes, onions, artichokes, and chard and several boxes of Tofu Helper. We decide it's feast time, so we head over to Chipmunk's place and fire up the gas range. 6:54 - We tear into a fantastic vegan organic stew, and wash it down with a couple of bottles of chablis from the Wineria down the street, and a little something from Chipmunk's private reserve (which, FBI guys, is none of your business). It is an awesome meal, and it reminds me why life is so great. 11:22 - The phone is ringing off the hook. I never knew a phone could be so loud. I don't know where Chipmunk is so I answer it just to make it stop. It's Spyder, and he's asking where we were and why didn't we show up the the big ARF! protest. I say I need to be reminded about these things, and he says we talked about it all afternoon, stupid. Great job, Spyder, you just blew our cover. I hope you Homeland Security guys are happy now. 11:29 - My attempts to find Chipmunk and rouse Birch are both to no avail, so I decide it's time to get home to the chickens. I stumble out to the Cutlass, but as I reach the door, I realize I can't find my keys, and I decide I really shouldn't drive anyway, so I grab my bag of organic ramen noodles and leftover artichokes and head for the Ashland bus. 11:36 - The bus pulls up and I get on board. The bus driver smiles at me. I wonder if she's single. 12:18am - I get off the bus and walk a couple of blocks to my house. The chickens have made a pretty good mess of things today, including my bed. I find a dry spot, curl up, and wait for the crowing of a brand new day. Catch ya soon- Crazy Pete |
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