So That's What It's Like!

I've never done needle drugs. I flat out refuse to even try heroin, and I don't think anybody does morphine or the old ten per cent. cocaine, a la Sherlock Holmes, these days.
Having never been in the hospital, I've only had needle in veins taking out blood when I go to the Red Cross. What I did today was tecnhically selling plasma, not whole blood. They drew out the whole blood, spun it around to remove the thrombocytes (big word for today! = red blood cells) then reinjected the blood cells. At the very end, to help rehydrate me, the pumped in a saline solution. Man, it was cold. It felt so weird going up my veins. I wondered if that's what it like when you first inject yourself.

Feeling all swell, I went to the record store for the first time in six or seven weeks. I couldn't/didn't buy anything, but I did see Bob, the owner. I was disappointed not to see Neil, the Recordshop Boy (but wait, there's more!*). I nosed around, not seeing new Reindeer Section or Irving. Or Snow Patrol or Les Hommes. They did have The Mercury Program, which is tonal RPM/jazz of the same stripe as Les Hommes, and something I'm into right now, as I am with electronica in general.
I also saw If You're Feeling Sinister on vinyl. Wow, oh Wow! I said as much to Bob. Well, I say, said, it was really more of an ill-disguised orgasmic moan.
Bob cocked his head to one side and said that he was surprised I didn't already have it. "I mean, of all people in Chapel Hill not to have it..."
I just sort of stared at it in frustrated desire for a long time.
I did notice the Dr. Who named bands... Dalek (quite popular now, and just did a show hereabouts... I think I mentioned seeing their flyer), from the Daleks, the little pepper shaker-shaped pots o' evil that have plagued the Doctor since the second episode in 1963, and progenitors of a Beatle-level craze in 1960s Britian (Yes, really. It was called Dakemania) and Sutekh. Sutekh is much more obscure, and was the all-powerful god trapped on Mars in The Pyramids of Mars, probably my favourite ever story. They play hardcore electonica.

*As I was driving home after CD Alley, I was singing very loudly to 'Heart of Glass.' My car's air conditioning doesn't work, so my window was down. At a stoplight, I heard somebody sniggering. It was Neil on his way to work. And man, he knew exactly who I was.
No attempt to even try to play it cool then.

BWWBR fell asleep last night looking up a number in the phone book. Literally. The phone in one hand, the book in his lap, he just passed out. It was quite funny. I thought about waking him up, but decided against it.
He did, however, know all the words to "Judy and the Dream of Horses."
Wow. I'm not even going to comment on that.

Sex is like blood...

My friend Nat, met on the street: *sees arm bandage* "Did you give blood today, man?"
me: "Man, why would I give it away when they pay cash money for that shit?"
Nat: *walks away, smiling* "You too much man, too damn much."

In other news, I got the last $20 to pay this mont's rent.

The End of the Affair

Today was on-air training, part two. It went well. I fell in love with a group called Irving. Their disk is on black list, which means it's less than three months old. They're five sing-songerwriters formed into one group, so each track is quite different the others. Which I quite like. The one song I really like was "Did I Ever Tell You I'm in Love with Your Girlfriend?"
I mean, how twee? No wonder I went all weak in the knees.

I went to the pawn shop today. I got rid of this massive, ancient tv ($8, by the by), my rapier and my dagger. I was very, very upset to lose that rapier. It was quite beautifully made. The value was all sentimental -- I bought and used it for my job at the Elizabeth II, where I was very, very happy. I loved the way it was utterly useless and beuatiful and anachronistic. A bit symbolic of me, I think. They wouldn't take my broadsword, so I've still got that.
And yes, I know how sad and pathetic having a sword is, let alone mourning one. But I had legitmate reason for having them, I was jusk a geek.
*Sighs*

Random Rant

I saw something today that got my dander up.
It was some show on MTV about coming out. (I suppose it should be Coming Out, really, as it apparently iis a huge event) And yes, I know I shouldn't watch MTV, especially their pseudo-reality/pseudo-documentaries.
Anyway, Some schmo was babbling about the Mormons. Apparently the Mormons don't take kindly to the 'Mos.
This guy went under reprogramming by his church. At one point, they were showing him slides of gay porn while administering electric shocks.
He's still gay, but has very attractive scars on his chest, stomach and arms. He can't go to church and his family can't ever talk to him again.
I'm sure Jesus would be proud. As he tends to be reticent these days on most issues (death tends to do this in most people), I don't find fault with him.
But, dude! this is a church! A great, honking church with lots of members. Does nobody have a conscience?
Bad Church! Bad church!

It never gets any better

I went in today to check on my new job. They gace me 20 bucks and told me not to come back.
"Ah cahn't puut mah fingre on eet, mais you dohn't seem raht for heer."
I managed to leave quite friendly and gracefully, but I was thinking dark thoughts about Agincourt and Crecy and how much I love the play Henry V.
I hate the French.

In other news, my radio show went relatively poorly as well. The 5 am girl didn't show up, so my show lasted till 7 am.
Actually, that wasn't too bad the last two hours were a lot better. The talk sets were (relatively) smoother and there was actual feel to the sets (one new rock, one jazzy). I feel much more confident now and ready for on-air training, two. It's tomorrow 12 pm to 2 pm. Listen in, since it's a reasonable hour. That's www.wxdu.org/listen.
The highlight of the day was meeting Aruni. Well, for me, anyway. She, decidedly tolerantly, listened to me babble for an hour. Her attempt to quite me with tea failed. She was quie a charming hostess.

I can't wait for Friday so I can drink.

It's 1 am. Do you know where your Ocelot is?

It is *such* nap time in the hovel.
My roommate has fallen asleep on the Curiously Comfortable Couch with the Wonder Ocelot, tail warming his nose, at his feet.
I can't decide is it's picturesque or cutesy.
You'll notice niether 'sublime' nor 'beautiful' is a choice.*

Nothing much happened today. I go tomorrow to the sketch job to demand, umm, work, as I've not been back in a week now.

My show is tonight, 3 to 5 am (EST: -5 GMT), listen here. Make requests. (Especially Les Hommes).
Listen up. dudes.

*Obscure Art Historical/Romantic Literature joke.

I'm in the middle of reading both The Wide Window and Nalda Said. Literally, in both books.
No Dr. Who today either.
Word of the Day: haver -- Scottish people don't flirt (apparently). They haver.
Llaura Llew rocks today because: She helps the elderly. You should, too. It makes up for my slack in the department. It's quite a shame that she doesn't at all resemble Boss Hogg (it's two 'g's, yo, Llew) cause' man, that would be a great duo with me as a televangelist.
I have thu paaar!
An' thu Sp'irt!
Amen!

What does it all mean?

No, not more self-indulgent existential moaning.
But a dream. This dream:

I'm at my parents house, which seeme to be inundated with people. I'm talking on the phone (oddly, it's my own cordless purple one) to Laura Llew (also oddly). I go downstairs, thinking it will be quieter. There's a terrible storm out, and I ask Laura, "Has lightening ever run in on your phone before?"
Consequently, there is a great peal and an explosion as lightening presumably runs in on her phone. Even more oddly, I look out the window to see Bonnie Langford, a red-haired British actress (and former Dr Who companion) eating in the neighbor's house. I run over to stop her, and see the table is set for three and that she has started in alone. As I try to drag her out, a large black pig tries to jump up on me to get to the food (I remember brussels sprouts particularly). Its feet (trotters, I think they're called) hurt and scratch my leg.
At this point I wake up.
Anaylze *that* folks. Like most one-off dreams, I'm not sure I want to know what it means, but it may shed light to you, O Gentle Reader, on my own madness.

I'm Popular with the Opposite Sex

i am open-minded!




How indie are you? test by ridethefader

You're pretty knowledgeable about music in general. You like indie music, sure, but that's only part of it.
You'll listen to any old shit as long as it sounds good to you. You're not snobby about music at all, you
just like what you like. How boring. Curiously, this makes you popular with the opposite sex.


I question the accuracy of this test on several levels.

Did he get tired or did he just get lazy?

Yeah, I know. Philosophical introspection at the hands of the Eagles?
I heard this line from 'Lyin' Eyes' flipping through radio channels today. It impinged itself on my consciousness in an odd way, worming through my thoughts. Echoing.

Whether driven by that same vibe or through fate, I picked up an old copy of Dracula I've got. I'd probably not spared it a thought in several years. It's on the bottom of my book shelf, behind a stack of Indie CDs that always catch my eye when it wonders there, The Smiths or Moldy Peaches or Rock-A-Teens...

Today, though, I picked up the book. I was vaguely surprised to find a few odd keepsakes in it: it had been a gift to me from the director of the last play I was in, Long Day's Journey into Night. There was a program, a card and the dedication Eric K had written.

It was loaded, basically, with a complex design of regret and irony.
The most immediate was from the sender. I've mentioned Eric several times, but never by name. Regardless of what could have been written, anything in his hand is enough to give me pause.

There was a card from Chris, too. He was to play my little brother in the film, but he got mono (glandular fever, for the Brits) and dropped out two days before we opened. It's worth noting that I, umm, got it as well during the run of the show. His being was quite the fiasco, even before he quit. He was younger than the rest of us and had never lived on his own before and didn't know what to do with himself when he got sick. I remember he passed out one night when we were all out. He was broke, couldn't afford any medicine. I could.
He stayed in my room that night.

Odd, really. That all my sins should be known to all, but my acts of... kindness... my heart carries alone.

Between these two, that this was the millieu I lived in during that show, isn't surprising. O'Neil's play is all about the murk in between the stanchions. All about clearing it up. Harrowing, in the most literal since.

It makes me think of Faulkner (Eric doted on Faulkner and I'm sure he saw this connexion even then), of As I Lay Dying. When you break everything down, when nothing's left, when the heath is utterly blasted, you can start anew. Simple and unadorned. Naked.
The irony folds up from there, intermixes with it.
It all seemed quite simple then, what I felt and what I did. Not that it really was. The pressures of that moment are removed by the exgencies of today.
And now I stand here, far away, emotionally and experientially if not physically. Wisdom, I think, is a sophistry, a religious ideal that tries to make something simple that never was. Parallax and perspective. An electron's speed and path. Past and future.
They're all an illusion we use to try to understand the world.

And somewhere in all that, add the actual words that Eric wrote, telling me I'd be the one to make it. I'd break through because I had what it took to deal with the darkness of the world.
I haven't. All those years of praise and prophecy have come to this...
Tired or Lazy? Success or apathy?
"Words, words, words..."

The ideas are there, the hope.

I'll end with words from Mary Wallstonecraft, a little-known travel book she wrote called Letters from Norway. But the book is so much more than her account of the North.
For what it's worth, I included the same words to introduce a production of The Glass Menagerie, a long time ago:

What a long time it requires to know ourselves, and yet almost everyone has more of this knowledge than he is willing to own, even to himself. I cannot immediately determine whether I ought to rejoice at having turned over in this solidtude a new page in the history of my own heart, though I may venture to assure you that a further acquitance with mankind only tends to increase my respect for your judgement , and esteem for your character.

Letters from Norway, Letter 9, 1796.

So I spent money today I really shouldn't have. I got a pizza and saw a movie.
The pizza was so good. It's been months, quite literally, since I had one. Over the course of the evening, I've eaten the whole thing.
I also saw Red Dragon. It's been longer since I've seen a film. I used to watch one a week without fail. It was the first luxury to go. I quite liked it, as well. Not to much to say about the film per se. It was a thriller, and written, if not superbly, then quite adequately for the genre. Anthony Hopkins was great, though, and Ed Norton was, well, Ed Norton, harried and shuffling but driven as he always seems to be. Tobey Maguire should play his son or little brother.

The film made be think of evil. There's an old philosophical chestnut that says that if evil exists in the universe that it proves that god is not simultaneously omniscient, omnipotent and all good.
There should be a word like onmebenevolent. (And yes, it should be with an 'e' since you're putting omnis in an ablative use).
When bad things happen to good people, it means:
a) god doesn't know about it (and is not omniscient)
b) god can't do anything about it (and is not omnipotent)
c) god doesn't care (and is not all good).
So god isn't the christian ideal.
Well, it's something to think about. Since I don't believe in god anyway, it's a moot point, but an excellent mental exercise.

I think it's also worth noting that part of the film is set in Marathon, Fla. Marathon is in the Florida Keys, nearer to Key Largo (cue Sara Vaughn) than Key West. It was the closest town (about 15 mi) from the state park where I spent the Millenium with some friends.
The thinking went, if Y2K did strike, we might as well be somewhere decent as we reverted to primitivism. Unfortunately, the world didn't end, so we came back. Not, I might add, without some honest debate about staying on, painting sea shells for tourists and eating hot dogs for a living.
If I had only known I'd be eating weiners anyway, I'd have stayed there, and you, gentle reader, would be reading this on ponded strips on palm bark written with a burnt stick.
Such are the vagarities of fate.

Red Dragon, which seems to be the focal point of this entry, featured people who were lonely. This, of course, made me lonely. Not that I have any intentions of hurting anybody else, but it is weird to think what other people really think of you. Burden of society, really, to never know what somebody else thinks but to live with its effects. Do people think I'm some loner ready to crack and let lose the wrath of God, interpreted by yours truly?
Me, I'm just a pretenious person. I'm not a loner (I talk way too much for that) but a dude with the odd inadequacy issues. As I've said, I know my faults.
Number one on the list: I've given up hope for a decent date, so I'll settle for a good, solid shag.
Yep. I'll take up a collection so as I can afford a rent boy.
Give here.

I have another interview at the grocery store tomorrow. I'll need two jobs to make back to the surface.

So not much happened today.
I went to the gym and got my rum, but really that's it.
I got my rent from TBWWBR, making him at last the actual roommate.
I also got my rum.
Yeah, that's the extent of the day.
I did talk to Laura for about 10 minutes, but then she disappeared.

Jay

"But swooning into a delicate yet fuckable (sorry, that should read "ravishable" or something) heap on the floor? I think not."
-- From someone complaining about swooning in Romance novels.
Dude, this happens to me fequently.
No-one ever takes advantage, but *swoon* I do.

Oh yes, kids. Today was the day. I was on the radio.
Doing it was cool -- I was nervous about the actual cueing and crossfading bits, but that was largely alright. I played different stuff... Carter Family, Snow Patrol, Built to Spill, Flaming Lips (by request... more later), Herbie Hancock, Sara Vaughn, and some other new release stuff (Les Hommes, I remember and Japan Versus Casino -- both brand new to me). I mean, I spazzed a bit and was dumb some, but no worse than anybody else their first time trying anything.
It was the same at the new job. The first few nights are always a pain, as you don't know where anything is or how to do anything in the right style. The best you can hope to do is stay out of the way as much as possible (you won't do it completely) while shadowing your trainer like a puppy. I didn't piss anybody off and the only mistake I made was my trainer's fault ("Go give them a desser menu" "But they haven't had their entree...") It'll be good soon. I'll finally have to get around to learning about wine. And man, it's expensive -- $30 a bottle... My trainer made like $100 last night.
Oh yeah.

At this point I must say: Christina, Indie Girl Prime, is my Goddess. Oh yes. Oh yes indeed. She told me months ago to ditch Elmo's and get a formal dining job. Months, I tell you. It's a quarter less work in half the time at twice the pay. She was soo right.
And at this point, I can think of several other reasons why, if I had only listened to her, I'd be happier today. I will write down her every word from this day forward even forever more.
I will build her an altar, made of cute shoes, band t-shirts, red wine, Marlboro Lights and Guided By Voices albums. I shall honor her by watching Ed and The Gilmore Girls. I will wash her car.
Indeedy.

Amusing Flaming Lips story: A dude called in today as I trained, asking for the first cut on their new album. Yoshimi... had just been taken off the (new) playlist and was locked in the office. In 20 seconds I had to pick a track from an old album and cue it up. I got all paranoid and almost forgot to turn it on and as it was playing realized it could be obscene. My trainer and I stood listening. Its subtilte was 'labia.'
Turns out, 'labia' by themselves are not obscene, so we had topay attention that nothing transpired with them that could be construed as obscene. And nothing, thankfully, did. I think.
Yet again I am traumatized by the female anatomy.

But, but, but: the highlight of my day, something I've wanted to do for years, and my promise to y'all:
I PLAYED BELLE AND SEBASTIAN ON THE RADIO.
Oh yeah boys!! I was so happy at the time! For the record, and for no reason I could understand, I played "There's Too Much Love" off of FISHYCLAP. *smiles all all bashful like so you can see his dimples*
After the past few weeks, it was so great to do something like that. I think I'll always remember that.
Next week, I'm thinking I'll sneak in "Lazy Line Painter Jane" (they don't have it there, so I'll bring in mine), Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66 (on vinyl) and some Johnny Cash.
Seriously guys, I love this sooo much. And it's late at night when I'm alive.
Things are looking up for the Boy.

The roommate thing seems to be working out to. He dislikes Dave Matthews (this is a good start) and recognizes Belle and Sebastian and Dr Who (this is even better). He seems to be very smart and funny.
I ain't gonna get anywhere, so I think I'm going to try to set him and Christina up.
Yeah, it's time to turnabout the set up deal.

Thing going well today, I decided to watch one of my favourite Doctor Whos...
Dr Who of the Day: Image of the Fendahl. It's great. It's one of the one that works because everyone is so committed to the insanity. There's some great visuals... the skull glowing over Thea Ransome's face (creepy) the dark woods. Great dialogue... to cows, the Doctor "Do you ladies no anything about a time scanner?" Ted Moss: "'Ave you 'scaped from somewheres?" the Doctor: "Oh many times..."
And yes, jelly babies were offered.
The direction is fab... it's moody and scary and real, like an H P Lovecraft novel meets a Hammer Movie.

Word of the Day: eldritch. It's definitely a Lovecraft word, like Cyclopean. It means dark and creepy. Sinister in the not-good way. Spookily, the dictionary says it's Scottish, but can't give any derivation other than "it could be related to elf..."
Lovecraft seems about. I've thought diseperately of several of his stories lately, he's a source of The Taking of Planet Five, he's an influence on Image of the Fendahl, and Matt (TBWWBR) picked up one of his anthologies I have -- out of all my books -- and started to read it.
Synchronicity, anyone?

Still finishing up Pickwick Papers.

Laura Llew rocks today because: Hmmm. I've spent so much time detailing why I rock that this is kinda hard. Let's say... Rants and Raves. In the absence of real-time Llewunacy (dontcha like that better'n Llewage?), I read some of them yonder from petullant. It was a quick fix, though I now blame her for Cupid's abandonment of me.
[Remember, god(s) see(s) everything at once since they exist out of time, so he saw her abusing him and us getting hitched at the same instant]
Don't blame me for the philosophy/metaphysics. That's apparently how god works. Saint Augustine said so. Though he couldn't account for the Fall of Man thereby.

Catch you later, Gentle Reader...

Hmmm... I've not gone long here. Hospitality = brevity right now.
So then, in breif... (ever notice how in Shakespeare that all equals a big speech? no, really, it does...)
I started my new job at a posh new French restaurant tonight.
To be short, I now work in an old repeat of 'Allo, 'Allo. (Cept instead of the Gerry we got a Russian, but still, it feels the same).
I do my on-training tomorrow, from noon to two. Listen in at www.wxdu.org. There's even a web cam, so if you catch this in time you can see me as I foul up... Belle and Sebastian will be played, I promise. It's all I promise, though.
My cash flow has dried up again... Donations, anyone? *clinks can*

TBWWBR (see below for full name) is indeed arrived and is crashing even now 'pon the Mysteriously Comfy Couch. So, sshh!
That goes for me and all...

'Night Emo Glasses Boy

Yeah, so you lot should be sooo shocked to see an am post.
I finally went to sleep at 5 or 5.30. Right at 10, The Boy Who Would Be Roommate called and said he'd be right over with his money.
I've been here long enough to check all my email, check several blogs and visit my friendtest (here).
It's been an hour dammit.
I'm pissed.*
I'm going back to sleep for a few hours. God help that boy if he wakes me up again.



*I am always, always cranky when I am woken up in the morning. Even more so when done needlessly.

Yeah, so, I just read some dude's blog where he told the story of almost mistaking another guy for his boyfriend and almost groping him. And several other people chimed in with similar stories.
I thought about copping the story and putting it here.
Ha, ha.
There are of course several problems. A) I would never grope anyone, at least in public B) I'd never be that slow and C) the biggest one here: I'd never have a boyfriend.
You may not guess it, but I have this utterly Victorian puritannical streak. Maybe it's just the dozens of generations of English blood in my veins, but I can be a real freak about etiquette and form. There are times when I find The Age of Innocence racy.
(By changing the subject, do I seem not seething with jeaulousy? I do this all the time in conversation. For all my faults, I do know my weaknesses.)

I went in for DJ training today. I did... okay. I need practice with the technical stuff, but the spoken stuff is okay. Thursday is on air training day, should you want to listen to me (I don't get to speak, though). You can listen in at www.wxdu.org.
I actually made it to Duke's campus without getting lost. I even got there early enough to nose around campus for a bit. It was very reminiscient of Carolina, really. It was definitely designed with us in mind, though on a larger scale. Guess it'd have to be to compensate, really...
I even get a Duke Card (cost = $4) which I find exciting for some reason.
I'm so gonna play Belle and Sebastian.

I start the sketch job tomorrow...

The Boy Who Would Be Roommate of course didn't show. I'm panicing as we speak. Sod. So sod it.

The moon was gorgeous tonight.
Made me feel quite alone.

Sorry... gotta go seethe and stew.
I always start out with so much to say, but then get all blue...

Hey! Go visit my test at Ten Things I Hate About Jay!

Another hint: I am not like a model, but I have drooled after one.

Hmm... I just found a blog named after a Belle and Sebastian song (it's called 'The Memory Girl' and is from a line in 'Sleep the Clock Around.') Oddly, this girl is not a Sinister person -- like I'm the banner Sinisterite -- nor does she appear to know any. No links to them, nor to anyone else who does...
Like I can talk, I've only got Laura's link. And it's down at the bottom where nobody sees. I need more links, and I need to move them up to yonder on the left.
What I really want is that comment thingy. I need to look into that.

I had a sort of busy day. I finally got in touch with The Boy Who Would Be Roommate and he swears he'll be here tomorrow. He tried to get me to take a two-party check, but that ain't happening, no sir. I'm becoming increasingly cynical and I expect I'll be linking this post with one in the future saying "vie, vie, victus." My blinding hope is he'll be easier to track when he lives here. But, as Mister Marlowe says, "Needs must when the devil drives."*
I also got a second interview at the grocery store. Whee.
I also got a job. A full-time job. Apparently. I say 'apparently' because the whole thing seems sketchier than Leonardo's notebooks.** Ask me my schedule... Dunno. Ask me how much I get paid... Dunno. It's a new French place called "Provence" that is sorta posh. A French couple (I assume they're a couple) runs it. I came into to fill out an application and when I turned it in the lady asked me if I could work tomorrow. I was so surprised I said yes. I have dj training tomorrow that I've already had to reschedule once. I tried to call, but couldn't find the number so I went back and explained. Madme Anne blinked a time or two and then told me to show up Wednesday. Sketch, sketch, sketch!
(It is a new place, very new apparently, but still... I've been up that painful trail.) But every place is new once. The owner is also apparently an award-winning chef so I can nose around him and learn some more. The staff also is young -- a bit younger than me -- so that's good. People who work in restaurants, if you're not one, gang together frequently, especially if they're close in age. It's a sort of a trench reaction: waiting is very much an "us or them" scenario that leads to bodning.

Yep. In one day, I get a roommate and a job and I'm already preparing for it to go wrong. Jeez.

I got to go The Gap (ha ha! I said The Gap instead of the corporately correct Gap! See my evil! Fear me!) this evening to get black pants for said new job. They were $40!! Jesus God!
It's the first time I've been to The Gap in months. (The last thing I bought was a white tank top, and before that I did get a keen sports jackety thing.) I used to work there till I couldn't take it anymore and quit. (On Christmas Eve, which makes sense if you've worked retail -- I just couldn't take Returns Week one more time...) It was creepy and weird. I felt like I was under attack from the Great Machine. I scampered out as quickly as possible with my ludicrously expensive work khakis. I only went to The Gap cause I have a Gap Credit Card (I know, I know, I'm going to hell...) and no damn money.
The only temptation in the entire mall was to go to Abercrombie and Fitch and get their catalogue, the A&F Quarterly. Mmmm. I didn't give in. I also went to the Barnes and Noble. I do not buy books in huge chains, so I can go to them and browse without worry. Still no new Dr Who books. I want The Crying of Lot 49 and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, though.
I'm not complaining... I have two keen new books I'm just about to start.

I also made shortbread cookies today. I've never made them before. They're tasty and literally -- never had it literally happen before -- melt in your mouth. Oh yeah, baby, I can cook.

I also played dress up today for a while, sort of saying good bye to my summer stuff: I put on my Seersucker suit, complete with linen shirt, blue silk tie and and straw panama. Yeah. I can't wait for a) a wedding in south Louisiana in summer, b) being elected Senator or acheiving the rank of Colonel or c) turning 65. These are the only ways to successfully wear Seersucker. There was an old dude at Elmo's who always wore it on Sundays in the Summer, and he was a white pimp.
I also tried on my skins: the Suede pants and the leather pants. Soo close to time to wear them. The suede ones are soooooo cool. I love suede. And I look good in it.
And they both show off my cute little bum.
Oh yes. It's true. It's all the cardio.
I shake it now for you.

I finished The Taking of Planet 5 today. I don't know why it makes me feel so productive to finish a book, but it does.
Dr Who of the Day: "Nothing can stop the catharsis of spurious morality!!!!" This quote explains everything, really. I watched the first part of The Ultimate Enemy today. I mentioned this earlier. The writer died in the middle of writing it and never made a full draft or plotting on the rest, so they had to get a new writer for the second part. The show's script editor also quit after a fight with the producer. And the actor who played the Doctor quit in the middle. The result is a marvellously confusing mess that can only be called a clusterfuck.
It does, however, have Geoffrey Hughes as one of the guest stars. Indeedy, it's Onslow from Keeping Up Appearances as a Dickensian clerk.
This leads to...
Word of the Day: catharsis. When you sympathize with a character and suffer with him as you watch and then react to his justified fate, that's catharsis. Hunh? Umm... It's getting rid of bad thoughts through drama. Like when you feel good that most of the cast of Hamlet snuffs it at the end. If you get rid of your vengeance at the theatre, you're less likely to hack somebody to bits in the street.
At least that's the theory.
Llew rocks today because: She's a frontier woman. Presumably. She enjoys camping, for some reason. I prefer rustication to camping. Old country granges and such, and meals al fresco. You know, when the Victorians took their entire dining room suite outside. That's how to live outside. Canvas belongs as a table cloth, not as a wall.
Odd really, after all my colonial/frontier knowledge that I should mock it. I can make fore with flint and steel, you know.

I think I'm perking up.

* Act IV, Dr Faustus.
** Yeah, I know. It's nerdy as hell. But I still want a copy of them. They're available from Dover (House of Swell Stuff) Publishing.

Oh yes: Go visit my friend test,
Ten Things I Hate About Jay.

A hint: Dave Matthews sucks. I really dislike him and his music, though far be it from me to say his popularity is unearned.

I've wasted quite a bit of time this weekend watching movies. Two of my very favourites were on, The Lion in Winter and Paper Moon. I also watched The Matrix. I don't think a lot of that film, but then again the old ultraviolence was never my scene. No Indiepunk Riotqueer I. Like I even had to say that...
Have you seen The Lion in Winter? It's fab. It won the 1968 Oscar for Best Screenplay. Practically every line is worth memorizing. And it's historical. It starred Peter O'Toole, Katharine Hepburn, Anthony Hopkin and Tomithy Dalton. The film version is gorgeous with location shots, and the production generally is sumptuous. I directed a production once. I had a girl as Henry II and Richard the Couer de Lion. And Phillip of France, for that matter. It was good, but not great.

I've also managed to watch about three episodes of Globe Trekker, a travel show on PBS. They went to China and Uzbekistan. I still want to be anywhere else right now. Even somewhere outof the way and exotic with poor plumbing, like, say, Uzbekistan. They went to Samarkand, Tashkent and Buqara. I was quite smug to say I knew all of them: Samarkand was on the Silk Road (actually, I expect all three were) and was a major trade center. And capital of something, though I couldn't say what. Ping Cho was going there in Marco Polo. Buqara was a religious center destroyed by Genghis Khan. Tashkent was destroyed by and Earthquake in the 60s a rebuilt a Soviet showpiece.
They seem all go to build up these Asian towns. I should like to meet somebody from there abouts.
I did meet somebody from Bulgaria last week, the woman who interviewed me for my grocery store job. Her name was a sort of unpronouncable smash of Baltic consonants.
I think it's fascinating to hear people speak a language you don't know.
I also want a Khirgiz nomad hat. (I might also try a sheep's eye...)

I'm still reading The Taking of Planet Five, and I expect I'll finish it tonight. This means I didn't watch any Dr Who.
Word of the day... for yesterday, it was Bannock, an old word for pancake.
for today, clerihew, a kind of quatrain, humorous, biographical poem:
Harry Houdini Sir Christopher Wren
never escape a bikini said 'I'm going to dine with some men."
He was afraid that the gizmo If anyone calls,
would spoil his machismo. say I'm designing St Paul's.


Reason Llew rocks: World travellers always rock. Yep, the girl's gone again.

Hey! I've finally found an excuse to watch Real World marathons on MTV (and believe me, I've been looking for any justification to the pointless hours wasted doing that).
As of right now, I'm just keeping an eye out for the MTV news reporter, Gideon Yago. *growls*
Have you seen this guy? He's very firmly in the category I must call BWG. That's Boys With Glasses. (See emo glasses boy below, Duncan Sheik, Neil the Recordshop Boy and a certain ramdom person.)
And he's a smart-ass. He can't keep a straight face on his news show, The Wrap.

The weekends make me so bored and lonely, since I can't actively look for work. I sit around all day by myself. I realized a little while ago I hadn't actually spoken to anyone since Thursday.

I remembered today that I hadn't had pancakes in forever. I had some mix, so I made it up and as they were cooking, I remembered I can't make pancakes well. They weren't awful, but they weren't great. I can make crepes really well, but the thicker American ones I mess up: I make the batter too thin and put too much in the pan cause I think I'm making crepes. They come out very brown, almost burnt on one side. I didn't have any syrup, so I used honey, and it was quite good.

I read a few chapters of the Dr. Who book, The Taking of Planet Five.

I listened to the song Slow Graffiti today. I mean, really listened to it. It's there at the end of the Modern Rock Song EP and I've heard it before, but I suppose I never really took it in till today.
I organizes my vinyl today, in chronological order... I've got some nice stuff, original Simon and Garfunkle and Mamas and Poppas. Paul Simon, Jim Croce, the Eagles. I've also got some vintage Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66. Also, for that matter, a Smurfs album. That was my favorite 20 years ago,
I think the idea here between cooking and cleaning and organizing is the Robinson Crusoe effect. If I keep myself involved with little pointless tasks, I'll not notice as I go crazy.
This could also explain the lengthy daily blogs...

I can't remember the last time I cried. (Besides the odd tear at a sappy movie like Life As A House, which I think was the last.) But I get the feeling now that if I started, it might take a while. Much to mourn, no cause to rejoice...
Despair was -- still is, I reckon, for the papists -- a mortal sin. They get their own part of the Inferno (along with the wrathful). It signified a lack of trust in god and his judgement and ability ("What, you don't think god knows what he's doing?!")
Like I really need to start a checklist of places in the Inferno I deserve...

And I really don't have anything else to say...