New Fatness

I can tell my life has started to take shape because I'm concerned about my weight again. In the full throat of the protests and recall signature seeking and volunteering, my weight was not an omnipresent concern like it had been before. There was other serious shit going on, so my frivolous personal worries meant nothing. Now, I'm seeing bulges under my shirt where none had been before, some button up shirts once loose are now tight and I'm fretting over food choices (yet not making better choices just the same) and working out & self-loathing everyday. Good to see that I can get back to old habits.

Right now, I'm sitting somewhere between 227 and 222 pounds. When my scale is activated, it has this ambient 5 pound reading on there. I'm not sure how or why that's going on, though I bet it has something to do with the angle of the floor in the bathroom. So, I can just subtract that amount from my total. Right? That's the way it should work. No reason to assume that the scale somehow corrects itself at higher weights, right? No, of course not. I should subtract 5 pounds from whatever the total is showing. Anyway, the last time I weighed myself, it showed 227, so I think I weight 222 pounds (maybe).

While this is still much, much better than where I was years ago at 350+, 222 to 227 represents a 9 to 14 pound gain from my all-time low of 213 last year. And I'm not that 350 pound dude anymore and I haven't been. No one I know in Madison has ever seen me at that weight, and only one person I talk to currently knows me from a heavier time. Madison Bryan is light nearly hairless creature who likes to bicycle to work and has awesome music tastes & righteous politics. Old Bryan (heretofore known as Old Tub) with this nu-metal, donut, fast food, and soda pop love is long gone, just like his hair. I was downright svelte last year, now I'm back to pudgy. Rather I feel pudgy. Empirically, I'm not that bad. Medically, I'm probably obese. Bryanly, I gotta take better care of myself.

But...but...but...

See there are new challenges. I'm a touch older. I have chronic tailbone pain that just kills me when I do activities like biking. No, I haven't asked a doctor about it. Come on, now. What do you take me for? Someone who does things like that? Please. Also I need new running shoes because while I love running, each time I tried I hurt myself to the point where I couldn't run or bike for two days after thanks to knee and calf pain. The shoes I have are pretty old and are cheapo Nikes from Kohls, so I imagine there are better shoes out there that will help me not hurt myself. Plus, with new challenges, politics have become the mother of all time sucks. I want to know more constantly. Facebook has become an evil motherfucker in taking up all my time, reading up about how the governor of this state is ruining one thing or another thing or doing something else dastardly. His latest, okaying half a million dollars in outside legal fees to defend his union-busting bill. See, we're a broke state, so we need to make sure to spend a half million dollars on outside-government legal fees in order to remove rights. You know...for the savings. Motherfucker.

See the problem with saying that "we're broke" you begin to expect government to behave as it if it were actually broke and not doing shit like that.

Argh! Look at that. Again, distracted, irritated and wanting to pursue and explicate to everyone why he's wrong. Not that I know the actually numbers of why he's wrong, but this is not what good government looks like. It should never have to look like this, behave like this, or pursue such ideas so blindly.

Whew. That is why I'm having a hard time staying on task with writing, reading, losing weight and just taking care of me. How can I be worried about such things when there's a fight for the soul of a state and a region I've grown to really care about? Shouldn't I be doing that, all the time? Every moment where I'm not calling people, or doing something to make a difference, aren't I wasting it? And that's not to say I believe I'm some kind of difference maker, but dammit...every moment I'm not doing something politically charges to help reclaim the state, I feel upset at myself. And now, looking in the mirror, I've seen I've neglected myself. Not writing, not reading, not doing any of that. But I have to and goddamnit I'm going to try.

So, here's to doing everything and doing it well because that seems to be my only choice. I know it'll be unhealthy, but it's what's I must do.

I had set a private goal of losing 20 to 30 pounds by my birthday, but that probably won't happen. I just need to lose 5 pounds by the end of August, recall at least 3 Republican legislators, push the serving Democrats to a more meaningful left (not just Republican light, but honest to god fair/progressive tax reform for starters), read more (like finish that goddamn American Rust book) and write every day. Every damn day. That doesn't seem so hard, does it?

viva wisco y me

Debt Ceiling

Is it possible that Republicans want to default on the debt ceiling? I think so. Unfortunately.

Maybe my line of thought is ridiculous, but if you think of all the countries that wind up needing help from the International Monetary Fund due to bankruptcy, to get it, they must submit their country to serious Milton Friedman-style privatization of everything.

So, maybe, if Republicans can kill our worldwide credit score by defaulting on the debt that would start us rolling toward needing to sell off all government holdings and strip away regulations in order to appease those with the money who could help us out. Is this crazy to think this? I doesn't feel crazy. It should. It really should. But then again, they are slaves to privatization, not country. These Republicans aren't patriots of country, but patriots of wealth. Plutocrats I think they're called.

I'm not 100% what the US government would have to sell off though. NASA, probably. Roads for sure. Social security & Medicare would be sold off first, most def. Schools would be cashed in on. Any other government "funding" things out there that seem like a cash cow that I'm missing? Utilities, sure.

Maybe I'm nuts to be worried about it in these terms. But doesn't it sort of look like it?

viva wisco

I think the best bar name ever would be The Ease It Inn.

Please don't steal that idea.

viva wisco

Desperate for Blood in the Water

On Friday, I went to the Solidarity Singalong on the capitol steps. I've listened to the singalong quite a few times, but I'm not a regular singer at all. By that I mean I sing terribly, an atonal bumblebee best describes my singing voice. But today I went just for the fun of it and I had heard it was "March on Your Capitol Day" so I thought maybe there would be a large crowd. The Singalong was bigger than usual and they even had a band backing them this time, which was pretty cool.

I had gone with a friend from work and she was carrying her usual protest sign that says "Blame Wall Street." We're walking back, chatting, minding our own business (except for the sign, of course). When this lady in a blue Lexus SUV, probably early 2000s model, license plate 801SFK rolls up next to us.

This lady taunts from her rolled down car window, "I'm a Scott Walker fan, la, la la!" I turn around to look at the lady and she's got this wild-eyed look of anticipation on her face. She was wanting something for me and my work friend. You can always tell someone who wants a little piece of your ass and she was spoiling for a fight. One of the classic motorist versus pedestrian fights that are always high on rhetoric. Clearly she wanted to engage in a valuable debate on the merits of her ignorance and my righteousness.

Anyway, I freeze up. The only quick retort I supplied myself with was, "There's no accounting for taste," which doesn't make sense. So, being that I couldn't be clever enough, nor did I want to scream "Cunt!" at her (that wouldn't have been decent; however, a true statement, verily), I turned, rubbed my chin and shook my head. I'm kind of embarrassed to by the since of nerves I felt when she said that from the window and that I couldn't cook up of something better to say.

So, I keep going on my way. Then I hear from the blue Lexus SUV, "Hey, don't flip me off, asshole!"

Now, I'm a little surprised, being that I did not flip her off. Neither did my co-worker. Upon further review, my rubbing of my face must have been construed as flipping her off. Apparently, rubbing the side of one's face while thinking, "Man, I really should have shaved today" is the equivalent in some cultures or exurbs of Madison as flipping someone off. I don't flip people off sincerely. It's a pretty ridiculous gesture, don't you think? Look, it's my finger! Come on? That's offensive? It's a finger. I see fingers all the time. I've never been shocked at the sight a finger, particularly when still attached to a hand and in the appropriate slot for the finger length.

So I turn around, and there she is, the Lexus driver who just called me an asshole, flipping me off from her now rolled up window. Again she had that kind of froggy look in her eye where you know she just wanted me to do something. Give her a little shout, something. All I could do was just shake my head, laugh at her. And also write her license plate down. I won't do anything with it, though. But I did write it in my notebook in case she blew through a red light or sped or something illegal. Being a cunt in public isn't much of an offense in my book, so I needn't call the cops on her.

Anyway, she was so spoiling for someone to confront her for being a bitch she had to invent a reason to yell asshole at someone, anyone, that was a protester. I bet she rode a couple laps around the capitol to yell insults at the Solidarity Singalong people because...because...I don't know. To vent? To feel superior? Probably that last one. Bitches, man. Damn.

I've stewed on this for a day. It's pretty funny still, I think, but today I see that Wisconsin Supreme Court Justice Prosser (yes, the one that was just barely re-elected despite his asshole credentials) choked a fellow Supreme Court Justice during a heated argument. There is a conflicting story that says the choked Justice may have lunged at Prosser, which to me sounds a bit like the "she was asking for it" or the "she fell down the stairs" or "she ran right into the knife, 14 times, I swear" kind of defense...and the "lunging" story is attributable to one, unnamed source, who also said that no pressure was exerted during the choke hold. Now, I wonder which unnamed source would have the knowledge on the amount of pressure exerted in the choke hold AND have a reason to blame his actions on someone else...which I'm sure this "source" did before when he tried to blame the Chief Justice for when this source had to call her a "total bitch" and promised "to destroy" her.

And then there's the bit about how one of the Singalong people got battered by a Tea Party zealot.

I know what's going on here. People want to fight out their frustrations. Neither side wants to listen, so let's just fucking have it out. What a perfect time to allow concealed and carry legislation, right? Punching singers. Choking judges. My insignificant event. It's not enough that we're a divided state, and country, and will be for some time, I'm afraid, unless the revolution comes. This whole mess seems strangely orchestrated. The state gets catastrophically divided where you can't even buy beer or bratwurst without it being a political statement. So everyone is pissed and rather than maybe do something to stem the tide, be a little less of a prick, they ratchet things up more, to piss and divide everyone further. Then they pass a law making it cool to carry concealed guns pretty much wherever the hell we want. So we're an angry, armed populace, wanting so bad to get into a fight that we'll just make up reasons to do it, so long as we can feel justified in our contempt of this person. Doesn't it kind of feel that somebody, somewhere, for some reason sees this kind of division, hatred and potential violence as awesome, a great opportunity for something, so the pressure and divisiveness stays pedal down, just waiting for the first batch of firebombs to be tossed. I know, I know, put down the tinfoil hat. I'm in no way suggesting some grand conspiracy truly exists (that's insane), but it does feel strange to me, like there's some other game being played here that we're all not fully aware of or understand...which is a feeling I hate because it doesn't make sense and it's not a rational response. But how can anyone see all this, live through all this, and not have a response to want to change it, or compromise or something...unless all this vitriol is the desired response.

I don't know, man. After all, I don't have a Lexus SUV and I am, apparently, an asshole. Just please don't punch, choke or shoot me.

viva wisco

Why I Apologized to Russ Feingold

I met Russ Feingold recently. It was after his second visit to Walkerville, at which he gave a rousing speech about how it was the free trade agreements that started us to the path we have now economically, how corporate interests sully every level of our political system and how we should never, ever quit fighting. It was good speech. Check YouTube; it'll be on there someplace.

While others did crowd Russ to shake his hand or grab pictures after he left the podium, I hung back. Oh, I wanted to mix it up and I was there on the outskirts of the melee of people having him sign things, or sticking out their hand for a quick political grasp. It turned into a scrum, so I backed off. Hard to see the value of this kind of thing. That's not really meeting him, it's harassing. Plus, it is absurd that people do that to those we admire. What's the value of crushing in around people like that? It means nothing to them, little to you, and really nothing is accomplished. Evolutionarily, I wonder why we do it. Does getting closer and touching those we admire mean something to our lizard brain? What? To prove that maybe this thing we admire or like is a tangible thing so we must touch it to prove in our hearts that, yes, it truly exists? I don't know, and I'm off topic. Anyway, I didn't crowd the man.

Emily and I biked home from the event and we just lucked into Russ Feingold outside of a restaurant at downtown Madison. We stopped, talked for a second, shook his hand, and I apologized to him. It was a glorious moment, one that I'll remember for quite a while. Shame that I didn't get a picture with him, but that'll be for another time, if I'm lucky enough to meet him again.

I was stupid giddy about meeting him, too. I called my buddy Seth right afterwards and said, "Dude, I met fucking Russ Feingold! I shook his fucking hand!" I smiled for hours afterwards. The next morning, I couldn't wait to tell the people I worked with that I met Russ Feingold. I'm still surprised this happened.

Anyway, I told him that I was sorry that I did not campaign for him, that I only voted for him. I promised myself that I would apologize to him if I ever got the chance and, by god, I did it.

Now, why? Russ was going to lose in the election because of any number of forces lined up against him. There was probably nothing I could have done to reverse the outcome of this election, but the results bugged me just the same. It irritated me that so many people would vote against Feingold for...Christ, I still don't know why people voted against Feingold. They just did.

That sense of irritation is what bugged me though and stuck with me. If I was so irritated, so upset that Feingold lost, why didn't I do anything to stop it, or at least try to stop it? Even if I failed, which I probably would have, how much right to my feelings do I have if I made zero effort to produce a different outcome? None. I felt I had no right to complain, no right to feel this irritation, this loss, this anger of him losing because I didn't do shit about it. I could hold no claim to my indignation.

It seems silly, maybe. I am but one nervous and shy man, who still lacks the conviction for bold choices after all. I may not make much of a difference, but I can at least try in my own small, quiet way and own some responsibility to affect the changes I believe in.

That's why I apologized. He embodies what I want in a politician and what happens if not enough people care. I did not stand up or even try to stand up for what I believed in. It's embarrassing. Oh, I put a bumper sticker on my car, big deal. Have you ever had your mind changed with a bumper sticker with someone's last name and a number on it? I should hope not.

But that's why I am where I am now. All this stuff I'm doing. The phone banking. Chanting. Protesting. Boycotting. Donating. All of it all ties back to Russ Feingold losing that election because never again would I not at least try.

So, again, I'm sorry I let you (and myself) down in 2010, Russ Feingold. It won't happen again.

viva wisco

Because What's a Blog Without a Preamble Post and Acknowledging It

I've tried blogging a few times on a few platforms. Mustaches and weight loss preoccupied me mostly then, as they do now. I quit each time, disenchanted with the process of doing this, worrying about finding time to do it, and because I don't really find what I have to say required reading for anybody. I'm not a budding memoirist, nor do I feel compelled to share things about my uninteresting days because, frankly, they are uninteresting to me as well.

But I'm caught in this modern era of constant sharing combined with our own inflated sense of self, and also a desperate need to get some shit off my chest. So here I am.

As the title says, I'm here in Madison, Wisconsin, living through all the hoopla, upheaval, disappointment, disgust and joy of the protests here. By my reckoning, I've attended around 100 days worth of protesting. Carrying signs, taking pictures, taking videos. Screamed "Fox News lies!" as loud as I could during a live remote done by that propaganda machine. God help me, I own and operate a vuvuzela. I've collected recall signatures. I've phone banked. I've done it all save for sleeping in the capitol & the Walkervilles (yes, there were two).

However, I'm not all sunshine and lollipops about the protests, the movement or what have you. That's why I'm writing here, mostly. I'm trying to figure out why and what's keeping me from being some pinko socialist because, frankly, at times I feel like that's what I identify most anymore, and that in and of itself I find interesting because socialists I've seen and felt shamed into buying newspapers from make me uncomfortable (except John Nichols, he's all right). I've been radicalized by all the goings on in Madison, yet I'm only partly committed to my radical ways. The typical Christmas-and-Easter type of socialist you could say.

There's all that, plus, recently I went to a wedding. Yes, this will make sense. Not logical sense to you, but me, maybe, anyway, hang with this, a wedding was attended. During that time, I got to bro down with a couple friends I don't see often enough and we just bullshit pretty much non-stop about all kinds of useless stuff, but it was a blast. Like we talked for 15 minutes about why would Doc Ock, from the Spiderman comics, even create metal tentacles with the ability to go bananas, possess you and turn you into a super-villain man-robo octopus. Wouldn't you not program that into the thing? Seems like something you would, could and most definitely should avoid. So there will probably be a dose of that here (and some loving odes to bad music on Sundays), probably even some diversions into literature as well in between working shit out about the aforementioned political concerns (though hopefully that's not all I'll be doing)

To sum up, let me steal a line from Todd Snider to really encapsulate this current blogging venture: I didn't come down here to change any of your minds about anything, I come down here to ease my own mind about everything. Cheers, all.

viva wisco

Special note on my hypocrisy: Notice how in the first couple paragraphs I take a swipe at this current need to overshare and entitlement & enshrinement of our opinions...do you see how often I used the pronoun "I" in this whole post? Just noticed that myself...

Reload

Okay. Let's try this again.