A Week in the Life of Gustavo

"Seems to think that if he fails to write, la migra will find him."--OC Weekly More merriment available at ronmaydon@yahoo.com

quarta-feira, agosto 27, 2003

Crying in the Chapel...

So a real update of This Modern Life hasn't been given for a while and the public demands it. Well, not really. Well, it's nice to see some people sure do enjoy this online rag. Now, from the top!


Was the wedding of my cousin JM to some guy. The guy used to like my sister--or vice-versa, can't remember. The wedding was nice, if ending a bit predictably, with me and The Boys outside talking about what losers we are. Of course, the main difference is that The Boys have girls. This Boy doesn't.

Afterwards, we retired to JM's house (of course, she was gone on a honeymoon--quick aside: isn't it strange to know when someone is going to have sex later on in the day? That's what a wedding is all about. And since I know nothing but good Catholic girls, those women are going to have sex for the first time. Kind of freaky to know that, no?) where we proceeded to play Knockout Kings. I summarily destroyed my opposition with my strategy to much of life--a ruthless offense with no defense whatsoever. JAM finally defeated me in an 11-round slugfest where we each knocked each other down about eight times. Completely fanciful boxing match? Hey, I didn't throw about 1,700 punches for nothing.

My mother was angry at me because I returned home at about three in the morning from playing boxing on the Game Cube. When she asked me what I did, I told her the truth. I think she was extremely disappointed in me--couldn't her son be out at least doing some bad stuff rather than being the enternal nerd?

As a previous post stated, saw Whale Rider. Earlier in the day, perused the mean streets of Riverside for some Santa Ana dirt. And as the rambling blog for Monday showed, I was disappointed yet again. Life is nothing but disappointments for me.

Work, work work!

Was treated by VT to Han's Homemade Ice Cream. Had some sort of pecan variety that was absolutely frozen. Afterwards, drove to Laguna Beach only to discover that I had to take her back home. Gee, thanks a lot for the meaningless drive. In all reality, 'twas fun--as always.

Earlier in the day, conducted many interviews. First, ate at Regina's Restaurant while interviewing the head of GBA Records for a story for the Rag. Then went on a ride-along with some activist guy--that's all I'll say for the moment. And the work day ended at my alma mater, Chapman University. There, talked to my former professor Paul Apodaca about a story I'm working on. I walked into his office while he was talking to two other students. Apodaca proceeded to sing my praises for the next half hour or so. Needless to say, I sat next to a cabinet that hid my blushing face.

I talked to Apodaca for about two hours then was about to leave when Bob Slayton walked in. I never had him as a professor at Chapman save for one class (American History through Film). God, what a missed opportunity. The man wrote the definitive biography of Al Smith, knows exactly the myth of whiteness in this country, and proceeded to extend the conversation another half hour by talking about how Czechs and Slovaks despised each other, Poles and Lithuanians hated each other, but all would vote for the Irish mayor because they knew the mick would screw everyone over evenly. Now that's academia!

Afterwards, Slayton waited for me and we talked for a bit more. The man is amazing--and Chapman is a much better school than I give credit.

I'll do the Rotten postings later on in the night. Labor Day is fast approaching, which typically signifies the end of summer. But for me, it is the start of life.

I'm finally reaching a point in this head where I will no longer tolerate much in terms of personal pain. I've been too much of a saint for too long and it's time for me to sin. Yea, right: for crying out loud, I have three separate Santo Ninos de Atocha in my car. How much more holy can you aspire to be?