Where did I put my Vitriol?
So, tonight I fought the law and I won.
Driven by hunger, I took my 1953 $2 bill to Chic-Fli-A. I got my little combo meal, and satand ate it quietly. As I was walking out, I was accosted by Mall Security Officer X. (He thinks he deseves the capitals, anyway). The 14 year old at the till decided since he had never seen a red-seal bill that it was a fake. He told the manager (17), who had Mall Security Officer X detain me till the Police came to charge me with passing a counterfeit bill.
And indeed, the Police came. We all -- Teen Team Leader, idiot cashier boy (you'll excuse my vitriol, here, as this boy was the sole reason for this event), Mall Security Officer X and PatrolChicCop -- stood around out front of the store in the lovely University Mall discussing the transaction. We were soon joined by Officer K9, PCC's partner. The transaction was again described.
At this point, I should mention I was flat broke. I had brought just enough money for my combo. I have no bank accounts (any more) and no credit card (that isn't overdrawn). This was mentioned each time, along with my promise to bring in $2 on Monday to correct the situation.
We were then joined by a team of detectives. They took one look at the bill and said it was real.
I wasn't counterfeiting.
Yeah.
Teen Team Leader felt bad enough to give three free Sandwich cards.
I'm not sure I'll use them...
I picked up a sub shift a XDU tonight, 12 to 3 am. It's an extra hour longer tonight, because of daylight savings.
I'll talk about my new job and other stuff later...
Saturday, October 26, 2002
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
I Don't Do Cutesy. And Neither Did My Cat...
...Until today. TBWWBR got some shoes from Steve Madden in the mail today. When I woke up (late, since I had a show last night), Murph was curled up in the shoe box, asleep. His tail lay just outside the box. It was like a phreakin' Hallmark card.
He's usually so butch...
In other news, I am seriously considering having crush on someone on the Sinister mailing list.
So yeah. As the chances are (very) great that if you're here you are on said list, I think the exact identity I'll keep up my sleeve, as it would be doomed to ridicule in any case...
...Until today. TBWWBR got some shoes from Steve Madden in the mail today. When I woke up (late, since I had a show last night), Murph was curled up in the shoe box, asleep. His tail lay just outside the box. It was like a phreakin' Hallmark card.
He's usually so butch...
In other news, I am seriously considering having crush on someone on the Sinister mailing list.
So yeah. As the chances are (very) great that if you're here you are on said list, I think the exact identity I'll keep up my sleeve, as it would be doomed to ridicule in any case...
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
A basic fact of life:
Everyone (and I here mean everyone in the world) loves two things:
The Police (as in Message in a Bottle, Walking on the Moon, Roxanne, etc.)
and French Fries (even if they're confused and call them chips).
I start work tomorrow. Yay!
Dr Who of the Day: Image if the Fendahl, part 4: More yay! It's great: gestahlt entities go around bein' scary. salt killing things, skulls mutatin' o' folks. Classic Who...
I'm still reading the Fellowship of the Ring. They're in the Barrow downs now.
Word of the Day: theodylite. It's the semi-telescopic-thingy surveyors use to gauge distance. It's my favourite word in the world to say.
Oh. I had fun tonight...
Everyone (and I here mean everyone in the world) loves two things:
The Police (as in Message in a Bottle, Walking on the Moon, Roxanne, etc.)
and French Fries (even if they're confused and call them chips).
I start work tomorrow. Yay!
Dr Who of the Day: Image if the Fendahl, part 4: More yay! It's great: gestahlt entities go around bein' scary. salt killing things, skulls mutatin' o' folks. Classic Who...
I'm still reading the Fellowship of the Ring. They're in the Barrow downs now.
Word of the Day: theodylite. It's the semi-telescopic-thingy surveyors use to gauge distance. It's my favourite word in the world to say.
Oh. I had fun tonight...
Monday, October 21, 2002
It's Come Over All Lesbian
Pickles: Someone just threw a rock through our window!
Oblong: It's probably the angry lesbians next door.
The BWWBR has just learned of the thriving lesbian community hereabout. Fascinated, he's commenced to taking smoke breaks and such with and generally communing with them.
It's quite odd. A nice couple moved in upstairs about six months ago, apparently opening the flood gates. There's a little community of maybe 10 or a dozen in the complex now. I used to keep track of was living with/sleeping with whom, but it got quite complex, and as I was completely disinterested, I stopped paying attention.
BWWBR finds it all quite interesting. I anticipate he's waiting for an ideal pairing to come along before he suggests a threesome, but as they tend to make out frequently on the stairs outside, he may just dive in at an ideal moment.
I say this with complete, if bemused, detachment. I only consider them in terms of nice-person-ism (I'm sure there's a proper word for that, but I'm too foggy to be bothered, frankly), as I find going around after girls quite odd, really, but who am I to judge.
On a similar but fundamentally unrelated note, it was suggested to me in a manner serious, innocent and completely English in origin, that I should attempt to find a book called Tipping the Velvet at the local library. *smiles*
JayleMurph: "Yes, Ms Stern Spinster Librarian (and I do like your hat*), I should like a book called Tipping the Velvet. It's about Victorian rent boys/lesbians/transvestites. It may even be considered erotica. "
the local population expires. several women swoon from the vapours. one screams.
SSL: Bubba! Come up yonder and beat this gay boy!
*Bubba pounds JleM while everyone strikes up the tune "Dixie" some wave The Stars and Bars*
I'd rather just order it off the internet, really.
Dr Who of the Day: part 3 of Image of the Fendahl and part 1 of Silver Nemesis. After a few beers, it seemed absolutely necessary to watch Silver Nemesis. Don't know why: it's the same story as Remeberance of the Daleks, the story before, and it makes the Cybermen look silly. In a weird twist of fate, the Cybermen of the mid 60s were much scarier than the later models. You have to hear the original Tenth Planet voices (imagine 1979 machine voices) or the later alarm-clock buzzer voices. "Youwillbelikeuzzzz". The little flap over thier mouths that falls open when they speak it sinister.
Oh! I saw Theatre of Blood today. I Heart the British movie industry, all seven people involved. In this sadly under-rated pearl (starring Vincent Price and Diana Rigg), a madman living in a rebuilt theatre witha troupe of mad homeless people (Mab's company) goes about killing all his ruthless critics. In ways from Shakespeare's play: a stabbing from Julius Ceasar, ambush and horse travel from Troilus and Cressida, burning at the stake from 1 Henry VI, "some old queen ate her children" (an old queer and his poodles, here) from Titus Andronicus, and beheading from Cymbeline.
All this and a gratituous scene in a fencing school.
I first saw this with one of my professors in school.
I also saw The Maltese Falcon for the first time. I also love Peter Lorrie.
We rented mad movied from Visart Friday night, and I am right in the middle of Ultraviolet, a cheaply made Channel 4 show about vampires. We also got Freaks and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
I'm still hella sick. I really felt bad for the first time today.
*A little joke for all you Jane Austen fans
Pickles: Someone just threw a rock through our window!
Oblong: It's probably the angry lesbians next door.
The BWWBR has just learned of the thriving lesbian community hereabout. Fascinated, he's commenced to taking smoke breaks and such with and generally communing with them.
It's quite odd. A nice couple moved in upstairs about six months ago, apparently opening the flood gates. There's a little community of maybe 10 or a dozen in the complex now. I used to keep track of was living with/sleeping with whom, but it got quite complex, and as I was completely disinterested, I stopped paying attention.
BWWBR finds it all quite interesting. I anticipate he's waiting for an ideal pairing to come along before he suggests a threesome, but as they tend to make out frequently on the stairs outside, he may just dive in at an ideal moment.
I say this with complete, if bemused, detachment. I only consider them in terms of nice-person-ism (I'm sure there's a proper word for that, but I'm too foggy to be bothered, frankly), as I find going around after girls quite odd, really, but who am I to judge.
On a similar but fundamentally unrelated note, it was suggested to me in a manner serious, innocent and completely English in origin, that I should attempt to find a book called Tipping the Velvet at the local library. *smiles*
JayleMurph: "Yes, Ms Stern Spinster Librarian (and I do like your hat*), I should like a book called Tipping the Velvet. It's about Victorian rent boys/lesbians/transvestites. It may even be considered erotica. "
the local population expires. several women swoon from the vapours. one screams.
SSL: Bubba! Come up yonder and beat this gay boy!
*Bubba pounds JleM while everyone strikes up the tune "Dixie" some wave The Stars and Bars*
I'd rather just order it off the internet, really.
Dr Who of the Day: part 3 of Image of the Fendahl and part 1 of Silver Nemesis. After a few beers, it seemed absolutely necessary to watch Silver Nemesis. Don't know why: it's the same story as Remeberance of the Daleks, the story before, and it makes the Cybermen look silly. In a weird twist of fate, the Cybermen of the mid 60s were much scarier than the later models. You have to hear the original Tenth Planet voices (imagine 1979 machine voices) or the later alarm-clock buzzer voices. "Youwillbelikeuzzzz". The little flap over thier mouths that falls open when they speak it sinister.
Oh! I saw Theatre of Blood today. I Heart the British movie industry, all seven people involved. In this sadly under-rated pearl (starring Vincent Price and Diana Rigg), a madman living in a rebuilt theatre witha troupe of mad homeless people (Mab's company) goes about killing all his ruthless critics. In ways from Shakespeare's play: a stabbing from Julius Ceasar, ambush and horse travel from Troilus and Cressida, burning at the stake from 1 Henry VI, "some old queen ate her children" (an old queer and his poodles, here) from Titus Andronicus, and beheading from Cymbeline.
All this and a gratituous scene in a fencing school.
I first saw this with one of my professors in school.
I also saw The Maltese Falcon for the first time. I also love Peter Lorrie.
We rented mad movied from Visart Friday night, and I am right in the middle of Ultraviolet, a cheaply made Channel 4 show about vampires. We also got Freaks and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
I'm still hella sick. I really felt bad for the first time today.
*A little joke for all you Jane Austen fans
Sunday, October 20, 2002
How I wish anything interesting had happened the last several days.
But it didn't, other than me coming down with a cold. And getting an interview at the Carolina Inn (imagine Upstairs, Downstairs in a NC University setting).
Last night's consumption of rum (it was Friday, after all) lead to two odd dreams in three hours of sleep. The other five were spent tossing and turning. At one point in the night, I remembered both, but one escapes me now.
The second went like this:
I was the butler in a very posh household that looked like UNC's South Building. The night of a very ritzy party, I was the doorman. An Asian dude in silver and midnight blue robes comes to talk to the master. Apparently, in days gone by, they were lovers. (Master, since then, has developed a wife and children.) After he explains his grand passion, I decide (against my better jugdement) to get him a job as a dishwasher so that he might see the Master. We go back to the back (see the above Upstairs, Downstairs refererence) and he begins working.
Presumably, later they meet, since the next thing I remember was this incredible, supernatural fireworks as viewed from the terrace. In front of the sea.
While I have done a few odd bits, I'm too tired and too ill to repeat them now.
We'll talk later, you and I.
But it didn't, other than me coming down with a cold. And getting an interview at the Carolina Inn (imagine Upstairs, Downstairs in a NC University setting).
Last night's consumption of rum (it was Friday, after all) lead to two odd dreams in three hours of sleep. The other five were spent tossing and turning. At one point in the night, I remembered both, but one escapes me now.
The second went like this:
I was the butler in a very posh household that looked like UNC's South Building. The night of a very ritzy party, I was the doorman. An Asian dude in silver and midnight blue robes comes to talk to the master. Apparently, in days gone by, they were lovers. (Master, since then, has developed a wife and children.) After he explains his grand passion, I decide (against my better jugdement) to get him a job as a dishwasher so that he might see the Master. We go back to the back (see the above Upstairs, Downstairs refererence) and he begins working.
Presumably, later they meet, since the next thing I remember was this incredible, supernatural fireworks as viewed from the terrace. In front of the sea.
While I have done a few odd bits, I'm too tired and too ill to repeat them now.
We'll talk later, you and I.
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
Make Some Time With Me
What I need, see, is some lovin'.
I've spent a disproportionate amount of time falling in love with any guy in sight. I almost literally swooned over a boy (Tucker) at the blood bank who, besides being gorgeous, was reading Le Chanson de Roland. There was a guy eating lunch next to me at Wendy's (check off Chicken Mozzarella Supreme -- it was okay, but not the greatness of the Spicy Chicken Sandwich) and a guy -- two guys, really -- at the gym.
Not to mention other stuff closer to home.
This is not normal. IGP swears up and down that I am asexual (I'm not, the word she's looking for is subtle), but I do keep my head and libidio down most of the time.
I'm becoming... well, like a guy. Odd.
I wouldn't object to a little anonymous sex Right Now.
Anyone?
I picked up a shift at XDU tomorrow night, 10 pm to midnight. Everybody should listen. Or click the above icon. I think TBWWBR will be in the studio, too. (Photo op, photo op!)
Have I mentioned the Web Cam? There's a web cam at the XDU site, watching the DJs. I always keep it on, so you can actually see what I look like without resorting to pix posted by Ms Llew.
A Series if Unfortunate Events, indeed.
(Just kidding -- there's one that almost doesn't break glass up there, but I look like a time travelling transvestite.)
I'm still reading The Fellowship of the Ring. The linguist in me (and I took all but two classes in the major, and had the University offer to pay me to study it) is fascinated by Tolkien's devising of languages. The history buff (7 classes of straight history, a minor in Art History and a major that was mostly Theatre History) is amazed at his crafting of the History of Middle Earth, and its interplay with language. The English major in me is amazed by his scope and scale.
The normal guy in me thinks he crazy for spending That Damn Much Time on elves/hobbits/trivialities.
The critic in me also thinks he crazy because he publicly said literature after the Anglo-Saxon period was bunco and Shakespeare a hack.
It's all cold and rainy, and like every other Sinister kid, I'm in love with the weather. I love scarves.
My mother has this little book of lined A4 paper stapled together telling how I loved to wake up at the crack of dawn on Saturdays and watch it rain from out bay window that I made in Kindergarten.
Signed "Ethel."
I decided for a few weeks in Kindergarten that I showed be called Ethel, after an angel in my second favorite (at the time) TV show, Down to Earth.
Yeah... It passed.
I'm off to apply for more work tomorrow!!
What I need, see, is some lovin'.
I've spent a disproportionate amount of time falling in love with any guy in sight. I almost literally swooned over a boy (Tucker) at the blood bank who, besides being gorgeous, was reading Le Chanson de Roland. There was a guy eating lunch next to me at Wendy's (check off Chicken Mozzarella Supreme -- it was okay, but not the greatness of the Spicy Chicken Sandwich) and a guy -- two guys, really -- at the gym.
Not to mention other stuff closer to home.
This is not normal. IGP swears up and down that I am asexual (I'm not, the word she's looking for is subtle), but I do keep my head and libidio down most of the time.
I'm becoming... well, like a guy. Odd.
I wouldn't object to a little anonymous sex Right Now.
Anyone?
I picked up a shift at XDU tomorrow night, 10 pm to midnight. Everybody should listen. Or click the above icon. I think TBWWBR will be in the studio, too. (Photo op, photo op!)
Have I mentioned the Web Cam? There's a web cam at the XDU site, watching the DJs. I always keep it on, so you can actually see what I look like without resorting to pix posted by Ms Llew.
A Series if Unfortunate Events, indeed.
(Just kidding -- there's one that almost doesn't break glass up there, but I look like a time travelling transvestite.)
I'm still reading The Fellowship of the Ring. The linguist in me (and I took all but two classes in the major, and had the University offer to pay me to study it) is fascinated by Tolkien's devising of languages. The history buff (7 classes of straight history, a minor in Art History and a major that was mostly Theatre History) is amazed at his crafting of the History of Middle Earth, and its interplay with language. The English major in me is amazed by his scope and scale.
The normal guy in me thinks he crazy for spending That Damn Much Time on elves/hobbits/trivialities.
The critic in me also thinks he crazy because he publicly said literature after the Anglo-Saxon period was bunco and Shakespeare a hack.
It's all cold and rainy, and like every other Sinister kid, I'm in love with the weather. I love scarves.
My mother has this little book of lined A4 paper stapled together telling how I loved to wake up at the crack of dawn on Saturdays and watch it rain from out bay window that I made in Kindergarten.
Signed "Ethel."
I decided for a few weeks in Kindergarten that I showed be called Ethel, after an angel in my second favorite (at the time) TV show, Down to Earth.
Yeah... It passed.
I'm off to apply for more work tomorrow!!
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Much Love
Today's much love award goes to Aruni. She told me how to move the comment thing to the left.
Thanks. That device makes me very happy, and having it in the right place more so.
So go use it. Normally, I'd put a Wilde+ warning on it (it better be at least as witty as Oscar) but I want it be used toute suite.
If you want to see examples, hop on over to Petullant and see how it's done.
One thing that stuns my mother is that I'm not married. Umm, yet, as I am betrothed.
It hit me today that I could understand her position. Not that I'm the Catch of the Day or anything, but she has met any number of amazing ladies accompanying me, so to her mind, I should want to make a formal alliances with said girls.
I thought about it today, and she's right.
I know/hang around with/court the most stunning girls. I should marry them. They're all -- and I mean without exception -- gorgeous, smart, funny and a blast to be around.
Hmm. There's only two things wrong. And polygamy is only one.
I subbed in at XDU this morning, a 3 hour shift, from 2 to 5.
I almost rocked.
I played some great stuff: it went from RPM/electronica to emo to Indie rock to jazz to country smoother than you would imagine. There were sets, I tell you, and segues. I played great stuff, too. Worth noting: Rosebuds (local people: see these folks right now!!), Natural History, Les Hommes, Jackie Mittoo. There was international stuff and even some comedy bits, from Eric Idle's "Eric the Half a Bee" and an old Smothers Brothers bit. The Spanish Public Service Announcement was somewhere in between. "Pedro! Don't walk on those Dangerous Railroad Tracks! The Train!!!"
Talk sets were better than last time as well, if not great (hey, I'm new), even if some techno songs bled over.
I may pick up a 10p to midnight shift Wednesday night, so listen, since it's a decent hour.
I found out more about my job at Whole Foods Market. I'm beginning to get excited about it. It seems really good (not to mention legit, unlike certain places run by the Frogs). Everybody seems so nice.
I go to sell more blood tomorrow and look for some more work.
I will eat Wendy's new Mozzarella Chicken Supreme Sandwich, which I have coveted for weeks but couldn't afford. I will buy gas. I will buy Diet Coke and Milk.
I cooked the last little bit. I made fudge (yum) and humburger casserole. I was proud of that. I had one hamburger patty left, and no buns, and a few other odds left before I starved. I cooked the meat, used some tomato soup as a base, threw in some green beans and spices and topped with mashed potatoes. It was pretty good. And yes, I think technically it was Shephard's Pie.
It was Mom's recipe and made me think of her, since I made it on her birthday.
I've finished both Nalda Said (good. painfully good. Am I the only one to fall like a fool for the narrator?) and The Wide Window. O woe to Catlin Pigtails who said something less than praise of Mr Snicket. Miserable Mill, here I come.
I am now reading The Fellowship of the Ring. It's much better than I remember from 10 years ago (or maybe more). Though now of course, I get a post-mod laugh at how seriously this guy takes his elves. I mean...
I may start The House of Mirth as well. I love Wharton.
There's a new movie with Charlie Hunnam in it. I think it's called Abandon (like I care what it's called). Of course, he gets no screen name, it going rather to Benjamin "I like my Julia" Bratt and Katie "Lesbianism is so chic" Holmes.
What? You don't know who Charlie Hunnam is? Just as well, really, as I don't really like revealing what I like in a sex object/scene... Like it matters. He's married to some young model who is, no doubt, immaculately well sexed. (He was in the British Queer as Folk. Amazing what Channel 4 gets away with but couldn't ever be aired in the USA.)
Bye.
Today's much love award goes to Aruni. She told me how to move the comment thing to the left.
Thanks. That device makes me very happy, and having it in the right place more so.
So go use it. Normally, I'd put a Wilde+ warning on it (it better be at least as witty as Oscar) but I want it be used toute suite.
If you want to see examples, hop on over to Petullant and see how it's done.
One thing that stuns my mother is that I'm not married. Umm, yet, as I am betrothed.
It hit me today that I could understand her position. Not that I'm the Catch of the Day or anything, but she has met any number of amazing ladies accompanying me, so to her mind, I should want to make a formal alliances with said girls.
I thought about it today, and she's right.
I know/hang around with/court the most stunning girls. I should marry them. They're all -- and I mean without exception -- gorgeous, smart, funny and a blast to be around.
Hmm. There's only two things wrong. And polygamy is only one.
I subbed in at XDU this morning, a 3 hour shift, from 2 to 5.
I almost rocked.
I played some great stuff: it went from RPM/electronica to emo to Indie rock to jazz to country smoother than you would imagine. There were sets, I tell you, and segues. I played great stuff, too. Worth noting: Rosebuds (local people: see these folks right now!!), Natural History, Les Hommes, Jackie Mittoo. There was international stuff and even some comedy bits, from Eric Idle's "Eric the Half a Bee" and an old Smothers Brothers bit. The Spanish Public Service Announcement was somewhere in between. "Pedro! Don't walk on those Dangerous Railroad Tracks! The Train!!!"
Talk sets were better than last time as well, if not great (hey, I'm new), even if some techno songs bled over.
I may pick up a 10p to midnight shift Wednesday night, so listen, since it's a decent hour.
I found out more about my job at Whole Foods Market. I'm beginning to get excited about it. It seems really good (not to mention legit, unlike certain places run by the Frogs). Everybody seems so nice.
I go to sell more blood tomorrow and look for some more work.
I will eat Wendy's new Mozzarella Chicken Supreme Sandwich, which I have coveted for weeks but couldn't afford. I will buy gas. I will buy Diet Coke and Milk.
I cooked the last little bit. I made fudge (yum) and humburger casserole. I was proud of that. I had one hamburger patty left, and no buns, and a few other odds left before I starved. I cooked the meat, used some tomato soup as a base, threw in some green beans and spices and topped with mashed potatoes. It was pretty good. And yes, I think technically it was Shephard's Pie.
It was Mom's recipe and made me think of her, since I made it on her birthday.
I've finished both Nalda Said (good. painfully good. Am I the only one to fall like a fool for the narrator?) and The Wide Window. O woe to Catlin Pigtails who said something less than praise of Mr Snicket. Miserable Mill, here I come.
I am now reading The Fellowship of the Ring. It's much better than I remember from 10 years ago (or maybe more). Though now of course, I get a post-mod laugh at how seriously this guy takes his elves. I mean...
I may start The House of Mirth as well. I love Wharton.
There's a new movie with Charlie Hunnam in it. I think it's called Abandon (like I care what it's called). Of course, he gets no screen name, it going rather to Benjamin "I like my Julia" Bratt and Katie "Lesbianism is so chic" Holmes.
What? You don't know who Charlie Hunnam is? Just as well, really, as I don't really like revealing what I like in a sex object/scene... Like it matters. He's married to some young model who is, no doubt, immaculately well sexed. (He was in the British Queer as Folk. Amazing what Channel 4 gets away with but couldn't ever be aired in the USA.)
Bye.
Saturday, October 12, 2002
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.
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.
Friday, October 11, 2002
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.
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!
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!
Thursday, October 10, 2002
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
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!
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!
Monday, October 07, 2002
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, October 06, 2002
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.
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.
Saturday, October 05, 2002
Friday, October 04, 2002
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...
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...
Thursday, October 03, 2002
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
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
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