» Full Dark, No Stars - Stephen King's new novella questions mankind's ability to trust others.
[02.21.2011 by Bridget Doyle]


 » The Top 30 Albums of 2010 - Fashionably, fabulously late, our favorite music (and believe me, there was a LOT) of 2010, the year that some have called the best year for music ever. And only some of those fools work here. Plenty of usual suspects, lots of ties and a few surprises that I won't spoil, including our unexpected #1.
[12.24.2010 by The LAS Staff]


 » Live: Surfer Blood/The Drums at Lincoln Hall, Chicago, IL - Remember when Weezer used to put together records that you could sing along to and rock out to? That's what Surfer Blood's show was like!
[11.04.2010 by Cory Tendering]

Music Reviews

Screaming Females - Castle Talk
»Screaming Females
Castle Talk
Don Giovanni
Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
»Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross
The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
The Null Corporation
Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest
Halcyon Digest
No Age - Everything in Between
»No Age
Everything in Between
Sub Pop
Robyn - Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
The Walkmen - Lisbon
»The Walkmen
Fat Possum

March 31, 2000
Some stuff has happened this week, nothing that fun. It's a little annoying getting only the bad part of women and no action, so I don't feel to write much about it. I had things hooked up that way for dramatic reasons but wish to escape the foothold of this existence. Maybe I liked being tread upon at an early age, it kind of befit my character then but I am almost twenty-nine now.

Currently I am sort of lingering around waiting to ship myself to California after one big party night. It will probably be a disaster, and if California is bad too, I will have the cyanide pill purchased from the spy factory there, writers need those.

I seem to feel fine during the day but then when the evening rolls around I feel less content. Maybe I will start awakening earlier on the coast, but of course after I go to the Viper Room plenty of times, so look forward to that wish-wash.

On the list of wish-wash is my plan to write several commercials with my increased skills, pending an onslaught of torpid experiences. Hopefully with this possible source of money the note-taking might take on a lavish quality. I would love to be able to relate to you some of the things I've thought of doing to young women. As I have given up the idea of finding any tranquility in the older woman.

Got to have something to do out there. Also, I'm not allowed to speak anymore. This one girl told me to only open my mouth for jokes, and I am slowly learning to adhere to that formula, pending the last months of obscurant flim-flam. I don't think anyone really cares though.

I met up with an expert girl picker-upper last night. Rumor had it that I wanted to interview him, and I was wondering why I asked him some of the questions I did. This Chicago bar rat has had nearly enough. The lame thing I think about bars in the Midwest is that if and when you do pick up a chick, it seems like it was all predetermined by God.

Bars have never been my scene, but then the time arose when the bar sessioning began. All in all I've heard some good music, and I met a lot of people. It seems like people in bars are always there with other people (I even had two fat sisters walk away from me last night). In all this time spent stationary, I almost forgot about all the people I used to meet traveling around. Probably about ten people a day, on average. An ex-husband of Belinda Carlisle included.

This one twenty one-r named Jennifer: I ran into her on the subway awhile back and it was kind of worthless. It seems that even nice people can't be friends if they meet in a bar, at least in my neighborhood. Scratch that - even I can't meet a girl in a bar. At any rate though, and I'm very thankful as always that my life is one big high art story, there was a strange lost romance in the air, and not in the subway, on the serene L platform. Side by side with frail typical disinterest. The mulch and the alleys, the gloaning near, the shingles of Illinois.

So it goes as always, it's all just frustration. I went to look in the windows at Marshall Fields with a woman. I'm always saying something wrong though, and I can be quite slow sometimes, and am known for this. The verity is that I am a good guy, but I have been known to think of myself as a bad guy, and a handful of others have as well, but they, more often than not, change their minds in the end.

I will admit to what my theory has been for this last week: I am too Big Time for the women I meet, and they don't understand or appreciate me either at all, one or the other. Anyway, some day I will hopefully meet some people that understand what I do. And in the meantime I'm not doing anything but treading caustic water around here and will be glad to resume writing films elsewhere.

If you like this column, feel free to congratulate me on eight years on the road, and then 26 months in the Midwest. I need to start writing for money soon because that is all that's left, but I will continue explaining my theories of extinct bipartisan non-relationships, and even include the unmixed-up associations of future talented or gentle women awaiting consolations, as I am not gay, but have long been concerned with this stuff.

Tom Schmidt
No one really knows anything at all about Tom Schmidt.

See other articles by Tom Schmidt.



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