This robot has an opinion about my writing

I write like
Vladimir Nabokov

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Some mathematical algorithm thinks I write like Vladimir Nabokov – modern day Nabokov? Sure, I could see that, because modern-day Nabokov is dead, whereas I apparently am too alive to get any writing done.
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Miami is in trouble now

It’s just as well that LeBron James decided not to come to Chicago. What Chicago does NOT need right now are two things: 1) continued pointless media frenzy over a national-spotlight athlete, and 2) another super-rich celebrity who doesn’t tip his waiter.
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Something I never expected (Did it surprise you?)

In honor of our British opponents in today’s World Cup match, let’s start with some 90’s BritPop:

She’s in a family full of eccentrics
She’s done things I never expected
And I need more time


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Just One Of the Guys

“You’re such a sissy! What are you so afraid of? Then love the front of me, honey!” — Hedwig

I’m a total hypocrite. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I can say whatever comes to mind and you will know that we both have permission to take me with a grain of salt.

I dislike being gay. I realize that if I were a celebrity and had said this on national television, GLAAD would denounce me and Exodus International would use this as apparent proof of the feelings of self-loathing inherent in my deviant lifestyle, but as it usually is, the truth is much more complicated. I am not ashamed of the fact that I am romantically and sexually attracted to men, and I am not ashamed to be truthful about this. So I amend my statement: I dislike that being gay prevents me from having close, non-romantic, totally platonic friendships with straight men without the lingering suspicion that I am harboring much deeper feelings. I would even go so far as to say I hate this fact. In short: I want to be just one of the guys.
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More in educational news. Last one for now. Promise.

I swear we’re not seeking out educational links, so this is the last one for now.

Pretty much the best news I’ve heard in a long time:

Obama Wants ‘No Child Left Behind’ Law Overhauled

That’s right. The No Child Left Behind law is being expelled.

Watch Lance try — and fail — to Vlog.

So after the success of our last Hatemail recording on 2/28, I felt inspired to Vlog about it.

Problem was, I felt a little like a zombie, and looked and sounded like one, too.

What to do?
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Worrying about absolute power

Good people of Cyberspace, prithee, look to the right side of thy screen and hark! You’ll notice we are holding an open recording session for actors to read some hatemail for us. Inquire within for more info if you’re interested. It’s from 2 to 5 PM at Trevor’s live-in recording studio (AKA his apartment). There will be coffee.

For those of you who haven’t heard me talk about it a gajillion times already, the premise is this: we get people to send us hatemail intended for someone else (anyone in the world can participate). Then, we get local actors to give them dramatic readings (any actor in town can participate). Once we have recordings, we get local musicians to underscore them (any musician in town can participate). Finally, we get local visual artists to make something pretty/grotesque/interesting for them (any visual artist in town can participate). It’s pretty simple, really.

Now then.

You know those people who claim to have read “1984″ and say that the future Orwell presents is the scariest thing they can think of? I’m gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that one.
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Make it work

Well this is just incredible:

For 5 days, 5 Journalists will only source news from Twitter and Facebook to test quality of news.

This is bound to be a fascinating little experiment, and I am eager to read the results.

>> Update: you can follow the journalists here.

Speaking of breaking news via Twitter, I’ve been sitting at my computer for like half an hour now just watching the real-time tweet feed come in on the Prop 8 trial in California. For all of you on Twitter, just search #prop8 (or click this link) and sit still for ten seconds. You’ll see. They won’t stop coming.
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On Addiction, or Smoke Yourself Thin With Wendy’s and Djarum Blacks, Part One

Alcoholism runs like a dirty river through my blood line. My natural father, grandfather, great-aunt, and uncle were all alcoholics, and as far as I know my uncle is the only person who successfully overcame it. I know nothing of my natural father’s current whereabouts, I never met my great-aunt, and while alcoholism wasn’t the direct cause of my grandfather’s death, it eroded the quality of the latter 28 years of his marriage and weakened his body considerably. My grandmother has outlived him by 14 years and counting and is no doubt rueful of the fact that his dependency is almost certainly to blame for robbing her of all of that time she could have had with him.

Hence why my mother has always been justifiably frightened that I would follow the same path and has always been uncomfortable with any reference of mine to drinking. But in this respect, I’m very lucky. Alcohol has never had more than a casual role in my life, and while I’ve certainly had my share of drunk-epic-fail moments, there has never been a threat of dependency. Rather, my predisposition to addiction has manifested itself otherwise — to food.

I am a food addict. I have been overweight quite literally for my entire life, and while I’ve had several successful weight-loss attempts that have lasted for a considerable length of time, I recognize that this is something that I will need to consciously control for the rest of my life. But frankly, given my choice between the two, I would much rather struggle with this than with alcohol dependency. Overcoming the latter requires complete and total abstinence — not to mention a debilitating process of withdrawal — whereas the former requires merely taming the beast. After all, I must eat to live.

The trouble with me is that I am not a terribly disciplined person and can rationalize virtually anything I wish to do, no matter how harmful such behavior may be. That, and I am a creature of habit; even if I slip once and head to Wendy’s for dinner while driving home from work, history has shown that such a seemingly innocuous first step easily sets into motion a pattern that stretches for months. Research shows that eating disorders are strongly linked to obsessive-compulsive behavior, and I have borne witness to that in my own experience. For me, food is less about quelling hunger and more about the taste and ritual. And ease. Why spend 20 minutes grilling chicken and steaming broccoli when I can have a double cheeseburger while watching Family Guy on Hulu and not have a sink of dirty dishes to ignore for weeks?

I’ve even experimented with various eating disorders, much in the same way one would sample blood sausage or fermented shark meat while on vacation. And I’ll put the specifics behind the cut, just in case you’d rather pass.
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Another Patch For the Quilt

This evening I attended Chicago Opera Vanguard’s second annual AIDS Quilt Songbook, which not only functions as a valuable fundraiser for outreach programs in the city, but is also a fantastic exhibition of local composers and performers. To boot, this year’s concert was held at Center on Halsted, which was an even more appropriate venue and didn’t require schlepping down to Hyde Park again. Bonus.
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