I mean it when I Say I'm Good...

You Are A Chocolate Flavored Condom!

Addictive and totally decadent.

People are passionate about you - driven wild by your every move.

You are often an object of desire, although you're usually too much to handle!



What Flavor Condom Are *You*?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

You Are a Perfect Lay!

All sorts of guys long to hook up with you, but your standards are set high.

You don't just give it up to anyone, but when you do...they can't get enough of you!

You have a knack for pleasing and receiving, and sex with you is never boring.

Only problem is ~ they all seem to be falling in love with you...



What Kind of Lay Are You?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

Oddly enough, I found both of these in a link from Laura's Blog, proving -- Once Again -- LAURA LLEW IS A PORN STAR.

That is all.

Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

This.
Repeated, officially, here.

For anybody who knows me, or anyone who even thinks they do, this is Almost the Greatest Thing That Could Happen. And to think, Robin Stout, sexiest Milkman Evah was the first to let me know.

Wow. Belle and Sebastian play my town AND this, within a week. Excuse me, now i have to dance in the Street, Earnest Grainger style.

Reason Number 11, 276...

...That today I have descended into a Snarling, Vicious Zombie of Rage, a la 28 Days Later.

Rude Man at work: I want a latte.
Me: You have it order it at the cashier. (There is a line of three people ahead
of him and a big sign that says "Please Order With Cashier.")
Rude Man: I said I want a latte.
Me: *points at said sign* Please Order your drink with John, the Cashier.
Unfortunately, there are people ahead of you in line (They were an iced
chai and two mochas, incidentally).
Rude Man: *walks in front of Ms Iced Chai and Mr and Miss Mocha to the
register and yells at John* I want a goddam latte! And don't let that
faggot make it, either!

At this point, the entire cafe turns to look at Rude Man. Carl, the shift supervisor, makes the latte (to go) and walks the man to the door. Significantly, no one threw Holy Water on him, beat him soundly or forbad him to ever return.

Also significantly, I had no tip jar for people to express their monety condolences.

*Growls*

I'm still in a foul mood. Even worse than yesterday.
I demand someone /do/ something about this.

That is all.

Grumpy

I went to bed last night in a bad mood.
I woke up (at 5.30 am) in a worse mood and have spent the rest of the day finding reasons to be more foul-tempered. Blah blah, my book order at Borders hasn't come in, people at work are stupid (a latte with extra foam is a /cappachino/ so you have to pay MORE), and other equally trivial stuff.
I have several reasons not to be in a bad mood -- Belle and Sebastian play here next month (tho' this also is a cause for foul-moodedness in and of itself), I have a promo copy of their album, ceded to me by Viva le Fearsome and it's great (Lord Anthony! Roy Walker!) and Saturday night (the Pox World Empire Records show) was ever so much fun.

Still, I have reasons for not liking boys and girls (and who does that leave?) and am still just plain old petulant. Or is that Petullant?*

Where is Laura Llew these days anyway?

Pah!

Wow.

It's the end of the world. It's before noon on a Saturday and I'm up and about.
The power came back on a little while ago. I went to sleep about midnight last night, so I just sort of got up early. I checked my email and was amused by a Markelby post and Ian Hobart (note to self: must link him) post from Sinister. Ian made a butt plug joke at my expense.
*as Shatner* Must find way to seek Retribution!
Or even better: *as Shatner shouting "Kaaahhhnn!" in Star Trek II* "Iiiiiiiiaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnn!

I fled yesterday to Chapel Hill, where they had power. (I spent a good hunk of Thursday loading the contents of Whole Foods Market into the back of a refrigerator truck. Woo hoo.)

I bought the new New Pornographers album (Electric Version) on vinyl (less than $10!). It has a cute little Space Monkey on the cover. Shawn, the owner of CD Alley was working and we talked about the album. As always, he knows a disturbing/fascinating amount about me. Or bluffs really well. I always wind up changing the topic to music (No one actually listens to my show, so there is no way he a) knew I played NP or b) knew I moved from a Midnight show to a 10 pm one).

Then I went to The Book Shop and bought a copy of The Country Gentlemen for $2. This was a Restoration comedy by George Villiers and the Duke of Buckingham that was personally suspended by Charles II. The day it was slated to open. So it must be very mean indeed. Buying this made me feel very academic, which is good as I am Officially Applying to Graduate School. (There's a really amazing program done by the American Rep and Harvard that gives you a MFA from Harvard and the Moscow Art Theatre School. I will not get in. I may not even apply. I'm much more likely to get in at Brooklyn College or Ohio University. Sigh. I wish I was smarter and richer.)

Speaking of disappointment, I found a copy of Logan Whitehurst and the Jr Science Club's album. At Schoolkids (yuck). But I had already spent my music money. I hope it's there in two weeks.

Anyway. Tonight is the Pox Empire records show at the Cradle. They're giving away a compilation at the door with tickets. It's all local bands. I can't afford to go, so of course I'll be there. It starts at like 8, and I don't get out of work til at least 9.
*as the little zombie at the end of Buffy* Grr! Arrgh!

Ah!

I have no power and am dying of Boredom. Literally. I even have money for a change, as today was payday.
Stupid hurricane.

Speaking of which:

Actual Hurricane Isabel Discussions at My House

Me: *Comes home in the middle of the storm (winds at 50 mph), wind slams door as I come in*

Idiot Roommate who lacks Style: Did you have to slam the door?!

Me: I'll go out and ask the Hurricane to stop, shall I? She seems a nice girl, I'm sure she'll oblige.

I. R.: *can't think of suitable response. Walks away.

Whenever I get this way, I just don't know what to say.

I'm at work today and we're listening to the 80s Channel radio. To my (greater or less) surprise, New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle" came on.

Does anybody know what the hell that song is /about/? I mean, it's one of my favourite songs, but I never really thought about it before. The lyrics make no sense.

Also, WXDU apparently came under attack today in the Duke University newspaper. Apparently some columnist has no idea what the purpose of Independent Radio is and had decided WXDU should become a Top 40 station. The so-called destruction of File Sharing was somehow involved too, but she was fairly incoherent about that causal relationship.
And -- this is the great part -- she misquoted Kelly Q (the station manager) by suggesting we have 50 listeners a day.

Poor girl. She's going to be savaged by a dozen angry hipsters.

So...

Hmm. Eric's been here for the past little while and almost all my time was (rightfully) dedicated to hanging around with him. It was more fun than I can remember in a long time and I was so happy while he was here.
But now he's gone.
I updated my reviews and lots of great stuff happened (Essex Green! Condoms! Bojangles! A New Dr Who book!) but I'm not in the mood to write, I'm in the mood to pine.
I'll have plenty of time this week though.
*As John Nathan-Turner* Keep Watching!

This post brought to you by: The Smiths, Hatful of Hollow. "Reel Around the Fountain" is such a great song. It's woefully underappreciated.

I Didn't Song Him...

Laura did!


you are a pretentious indie asshole. you piss off
everybody but other pretentious indie assholes.
you suck extremely hard and only listen to
stuff on pitchfork media. fuck you.


what type of lame scenester are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I hate Conor Oberst indeed. Like anybody with taste doesn't.

So today is all cool and stormy and I have the day off. I plan to listen to some CDs and review them, go to Music Staff later today and play Dragon Warrior 2. Maybe I will eat some Wendy's food.

I certainly haven't spent the day nobbling around Friendster, checking out cute boys in my Local Network. Oh no. But I have noticed unlikey sorts of connections that make Friendster interesting. "She knows Laurel?" "How does he know Brian?" Things of this nature.

I realized the other day, there are thing certain things, important things about me you'd never know from here.

For instance, Chinese food. I love Chinese food. Cheap Chinese food. I was overjoyed to find a cheap Chinese take away restaurant just down the street the other week. Super China, by name. Rawk! It not only has Shrimp with Broccoli, but also General Tsao's chicken.

Also, Dr Who books are back. I just finished Warmonger (May 2002's book) and am now reading The Book of the Still. It rocks to be back.

First Things First

Go here. Right now. Don't ask. Just go. It may be the greatest thing on Earth.

Next

I realized the other day that during one of my little re-vamps, I forgot to put back two People links. On subsequent nosing around, i realized both of these people still had me linked on their sites.*

Eeep! Sorry Ulla and Feather Boa. I suck.

I put those links back up. As far as I'm aware, that means all the links are bak up. If I've snubbed you accidentally, let me know. If -- for some reason -- you want your own link up, tell me and I'll make it so.

*This is especially awful, as Feather Boa has commented since the Cut and the site features one of Ulla's drawings.

People Really Read This Thing

...and follow the links, too, it seems. I've had now three people admit to reading this at least intermittently. One was a random guy at the Cradle (Eeep.), one was Alicia (note to self: never mention plans to marry her here again), who followed a link from my Friendster profile, and the third was someone else who got disproportionately mad at something he saw here.
*laughs in a self-reflective, semi-ironic, ponderous chuckle.

And... held over from last time...

Cool Music Stuff

*Belle and Sebastian's new album, Dear Catastrophe Waitress, is out 7 October. It'll feature a studio version of Lord Anthony which they've been doing live since 1998. It's to be produced by Trevor Horne. -insert 12 minute musical saw solo here-

*Speaking of Belle and Sebastian, I just found out the 12 inch of Lazy Line Painter Jane is available on the (incredibly difficult to navigate) Jeepster site. If only I had a credit card...

*Speaking of Scottish Pop, Camera Obscura is going to be distributed in the US by MERGE. Whoot. No more three month wait to get their stuff on Elefant. One hopes they'll get their shit together and do a East Coast tour now. (They are committed to a Llew Bedroom show). Anyway, Go Christina! Go Gav!

*Upcoming shows: The Coldsides and the Nein, The Clientele, The Essex Green. Hopefully, the Essex Green will be interviewed by WXDU (this time).

*Speaking of WXDU, the new Fall schedule starts tomorrow. I have moved on up like the Jeffersons, out of the late night bracket. My show is now Tuesdays, 10pm to 12am. Listen in this week for a Laura Llew set.

*There's a Humming Bird perched outside my window!! It's tiny! And I've never seen a humming bird not in flight. Aw! It scratched itself with its foot! Oh well. It flew away.

This Post brought to you by David Bowie "Young Americans", The Clash, "Magnificent Seven", James "Laid".

Word of the Day: Avuncular, like an Uncle. As in, I wanted to snog him, but he went all Avuncular on me and just kissed my cheek.

Current Read: The Book of the Still. The Doctor hang-glides into the sun's corona in a hut made from pages of the eponymous book. Fitz thinks he's a 16th Century Prussian swashbuckler. The grossest aliens ever, with external lungs and stomachs. Yeah!

CD of the Week: Logan Whitehurst and the Junior Science Club. With songs like "Happy Noodle versus Sad Noodle" and "Welcome Back Mr Pants", that's all you have to day.

So I Went to a Show

You can read about it here and here. That has about all the good stuff in it, but chances are great you'd have read it before.
I also went to a show last night. It was Nekko Case and her New Pornographers. Turns out, it's pronounced like "Nico" as in the Velvet Underground German Smack Addict and not "Necko" as in the tasty, old fashioned candy wafers. File this under the "Gee, /Daniel Handler/ is in the Magentic Fields?" and "Joy Division and New Order are the Same Band?" category of Things Jay is Officially the Last to Twig Onto.
In case you have to ask, yeah, it was quite swell.

I think I was going to post more, but now I'm all mad and am forgetting stuff I wanted to write.

So briefly:

A Few Nice Music Things:

Um, no. Fuck it. Later.

Yo

So I'm making like a Muppet and Taking Manhattan this week to see Belle and Sebastian in concert at Prospect Park. Well okay, Prospect Park is in Brooklyn and not on the Isle of Manhattoes, but let's not ruin a perfectly good simile.

So no posts.

Wish me luck in finding old Dr Who novels and Lazy Line Painter Jane on vinyl and you might just get a bright shiny souvenir!

As a tribute to the novel I'm reading -- Mason and Dixon, by Thomas Pynchon -- I am now starting a new weekly delight. We'll call it:


GayJay's Alamanack:

Date: Eleventh Daye of AUGUST, in the year of Our LORD, Two Thousand and Three.

Sun RISETH: 6.27 am And SETTETH: 8.08 pm
The Moon RISETH: 8.19 pm And SETTETH: 5.31 am

Begin ye this Day a Diet for the Losement of Weight and the Castration of LiveStock.

Use this day for Acts Sodomitickal, that thy potatoes would grow in the Roots and not of the Vine.

"Ye who would paradise find, must sew seeds of patience in thy mind!"

And Now for Something Completely Different.

So last night, I dreamt I was on a two-lane on-ramp getting on the Interstate. Suddenly, a sedan with flashing lights and a huge bumpersticker reading "CLERGY" overtook us and passed us.
"Wow!" said Markelby who was in the passenger seat, "What was that?"
I explained to him it was a priest or some stripe of minister off on his way to some Clergy Emergency. "Don't worry," says I. "I can get you one of those so you can tool around London."

Interept at your leisure.

The Littlest Emo Kid

So, in walking the streets of Chapel Hill on Friday, I stopped in to get some Ice Cream. As we were eating it, He walked by.

"Oh!" I said, "Look!" But by then he was gone.

It was The Lil'est Emo Kid. Little Chuck Taylors! A Little Fringe! Little Badges on his Little Charity Shop Coat! He was even putting up Little Posters!

I of course stalked him for some time!

MORE TO COME...

She's Not Mama Cass, You Know

So, I don't know a lot about Buffy The Vampire Slayer. But I was told that there was an untransmitted pilot where Willow was played by a fat girl. How great is that? I'd love to see a whiny, wheezey girl waddling around after Buffy*, bitching: "Hey, slow down Blondie! I need a ham sandwich before you slay again!" The above title was someone else's response to that image.

Continuing with this theme, I asked why Xander got fat as the series progressed. "He's not fat. He's poofy," said a fan. "He's tubby," I said. This fan said it was a progressive thing, so now I think I missed many episodes with Xander going "Buffy, can I have some extra butter on my pop-tart?**" So I guess the series did get its resident fat chick in the end.

*Tom Baker always wanted a companion like this for Dr Who. Years later, in the Big Finish audio dramas, the Doctor (not Tom's) got one, a fat, old Art History Professor named Maggie.

**Obscure joke. The Basselopes all died out from this, which was reported by Milo Bloom for the Bloom Picayune as "Fast Living". Remember the Bloom County comic strip?

Oh my Sweet Auny Hokey

I haven't laughed this hard since their article on the YLT concert disaster:
College DJ Thinks He Has Cult Following.

What I do at Work

So after weeks and weeks of listening to 69 Love Songs, I have several songs not just stuck but entrenched in my head. One of these is "Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits." At work today, I thought to myself: "Let's pretend we're Stephin Merritt." Working all day on the premise, I came up with this little ditty:

If you knew who they longed
for you now that you're gone,
You'd be blue and you'd sing,
Sing a blue, blue, blue song,
And in the fading light...


Let's pretend we're Stephin Merritt,
Let's stay home all night long
Let Archies, Heroes and Sixth-notes
Say being sad ain't wrong.

And after a couple of beers,
We'll put on morning suits,
I want to dribble some tears
And do like Manics do...

I can keep it down all day
I can keep it sad all night...
Let's pretend we're Stephin Merrit
Until we come of age.

What I got for my Birthday:

One (1) card from people at work. It ruled. It had a lady drinking a martini on the front with the caption: "Happy brithday to Someone whose idea of getting close to nature is..." You open it up and on the inside it says...
"Wearing a Leopard print thong."
Oh yeah.

One (1) copy of Geek Love. Whoot. Wanted that for six months.

And nothing else.

However, I am going tonight to get my tattoo. Inside of my upper arm, a little Mondrian square similar to this: Here But a little smaller.

Also, I saw the Polyphonic Spree Thursday and had a very strane experience with a girl.
More later, I expect.

How Not to Spend a Holiday:

In a radio station Control Room, alone.

With the rest of your family willfully (and gleefully) on the other side of the country -- sending a zillion email pictures of their fabulous times at Sea World, the Grand Canyon, San Fransisco, Los Angeles and a million cute wayside tourist traps.

With Laura Llew also on the other side of the Country,

With no date.

With a bottle of rum, a decade-old Dr Who novel and a Belle and Sebastian album for company.

Believe it or not, this did not start out quite as depressing as it turned out.
Oh well.

Sniff this...

Some get a kick from cocaine...
But if I took even one sniff...


Cocaine.
You like to talk,
you like to run,
but most of all you like to have fun.


Which drug should you be hooked on? [now with pictures]
brought to you by Quizilla

Not for all North Carolina,
Not for all my little words...

In my thinking for new posts, I had thought about listing all the things I want for my birthday. Yes, it is upcoming, but it's got me quite upset. It's not like when I was younger, and they described new abilities like drinking and smoking and driving. Birthdays just now mark out getting older and things not accompished, like real relationships and success. Blech.
So yeah, I want stuff, but I won't get it, so I'm not listing anything.*

Tonight was quiz night at the Skylight Exchange. I always enjoy that -- we won a round tonight, "Cartoons", with the answers Madcatt and Brain, Tex Avery, Buttercup Blossom and Bubbles, Snagglepuss, Spike, and two others -- and won some beer. Yay. Other wise, we pretty much sucked, except for another round where we tied. Well, hmm. Two out of five rounds ain't too bad, really. Except maybe for me having to do a Tweety Bird impersonation. See beer, winning of as to why I did that tie breaker.

Last night was the music staff meeting for WXDU. Heh heh, we sit around listening to all the music we get sent from all the bands and labels and such. "They suck" or "They rule" or "Why are we even listening to RICHARD PALMERS** new album?!" are the rules of the day, along with liberal gossip about local bands and their sexual proclivities***. I walked away with these albums to review:

The Temporary Things -- S/T (Self released as far as we could tell) Beats me
The Tyde -- Twice (Rough Trade) Sort of 2nd-rate Indie Pop, as far as I could tell
Monsieur Mo Rio -- Bonne Chance (S.H.A.D.O.) Very silly lounge/ambient
Hint -- Portakabin Fever (Ninja Tune) Questionable lounge/ambient

I'm sure proper reviews will follow. Speaking of...

The Eaves (S/T) Acefu Records, NYC

According to their label's information, the Eaves have gpne through three drummers and two guitarists in the past year. I'd havbe thought that gives their debut album a very confused, unsettled sound. Don't get me wrong, it's an album with a great deal of variety but there is a consistent basic feel to it -- imagine Trembling Blue Stars and the Cure crawled into a blender.: sad, wistful lyrics that go out into extended thematic explorations of pop, rock and synth sounds. Nothing terribly new and explosive, but interesting and fun.
Favs: Tracks 1 (the most Cure-y), 5 (80s synths and drums versus 60s Surf guitar sound) and 7 (Very Yo La Tengo-esque rock)
4 out of 5 *s

The word, according to WXDU as spake by Jaylemurph

I'm now reading Dr Who: Sleepy. I want to explore the gross excesses of Virgin's mid-90s dark Doctor. I plan to read one more later one to get the truly gothic feel, like those written by Russel T Davies and Matthew Davies, Dr Who fans and writer and script editor, respectively, of Queer as Folk.
Kate Orman's stuff is quite delightful, complex and believable. She can work subtle use of plot and characterization, but at only 60 pages in, it's hard to decide where it's all going.

Word of the day: Justicorps -- elaborate mid 18th Century military uniforms with elaborately embroidered coats. As tonight's quiz theme was the mid-18th Century, this was an appopriate question. We duly got it wrong.

*Okay, so yeah, I'm quoting the wrong Love Song. I know it needs to be "I Don't Want to Get Over You" but I'm too caught up being 17 to care.

**You know, as in "Simply Irrestible" and "Addicted to Love"?

***Well, I DO love gossip. And music. And if I might as well mix the two, especially when the third element is sex, of which I get None.

No, Really. This time I'm Back

I've noticed I haven't really been keeping this up lately. Especially last night when I was out and something hysterical happened and I thought "I really must write about this" -- more of which, later -- and realized that I had written more than a sentence or two in weeks.
I hope I can manage to a bit better.
Part of the problem is my wonky computer that since I've gotten the Internet again is prone to crashing. Another part is me being in #sinister all the time. After being away so long, I'd forgotten how addictive that can be, and it's induced me to not practice my guitar or piano or write or do too much else when at home. And posting from work is weird. It's not quite as private and leads to work-related ing: "This soy latte tastes like /soy/" says some woman, or "This hot water I put over ice has gone all cold!"
Well, yes, it would really, wouldn't.

Hopefully, I'll get some changes going on within this site soon. I've got somone offering to fix up this computer and the promise of a new one within a few weeks, so hopefully I can include some more local links to places like Go! Studios and the Cat's Cradle and some local bands so you can have a better idea of what I'm going on about.

I haven't been going out quite as much -- paying off bills and saving money for coming guests and trips to Scotland do suck up the available funds, as radio work does time.
I have two shows a week for the summer Wednesdays from Midnight to three am and the old Friday 3 to 5 am slot. I'm also on the music staff now, so I go to their weekly meetings and spend time listening to stuff to review it. This week it's The Eaves (imagine Trembling Blue Stars with Cure-y overtones).
But I do go out a bit -- again, see below. A show or two a week and trivia night at the Skylight Exchange, for example. No dates, sadly, but this is largely my fault I suppose.

Now... Last night.
It was Go! Room 4, a show of local bands, Pleasant, Gerty and North Elementary. The latter two had played a benefit show at the Cradle last Friday, of which I cought NE. They (NE) are rapidly becoming one of my favourite local acts. Rock Music, I says, and alive and kicking. If there's a continuum of pop into power pop and into rock, Elementary goes through the cusp of power pop and resides mostly in the rock section and it shows in their performance. Loud! Guitars into the speakers! Excess of Animal Spirits, as they would have said in the Long Ago. Their saving grace -- and what prevents them from becoming a tedious bog-standard mainsteam act is their twin-born since of play and musicality. The music might be loud, but it's well thought out, comprehensible and fun. Both to listen to and to watch performed. Their album -- Out of Phase -- is great, but -- of course -- they're better live, and what comes of as more poppy and less interesting recorded shows it rocky spine in performance.
Pleasant started things off. I know next to nothing about them -- I'd not heard of them before. They were a sort of off-kilter rocky, a hard-edge sound delivered with a sort of catchy, punk-tinged squeaky vocalist in a Star Wars Storm Trooper tee. Not having heard them before, it was hard for me to make any real judgements about them. It was a good opening act for the show; hopefully they can get a bit more together in their act and polish up some before too much longer.
In between came Gerty. I must have missed them last week at the Cradle, cause I'd remember these guys. I really liked them. Good, good music with an ace performance. Their music was the poppiest of the night, with an explicit and delicious 80s edge to it. They had some glitches with their imaginary drummer but carried on anyway. Vocals were split between the guy and the girl, both of which had strong sound. Fun stuff! They've got a new album out and gave away a copy in a dance contest during their 80s-iest songs. My friend Lisa was there and for their set we sat on the stairs deriding our own ability to dance -- "I need a short for when I'm dancing: 'I'm not epileptic!' " -- and feebly, ironically twitching to the beat. She stood up on the balcony to do her Molly Ringwald/Breakfast Club Dance (dead on, it was) and won. I thought "That is the stereotypical night out with Jay. Sitting in a corner mocking something and then WINNING it by accident." Typical. I people can cofirm this.
The boy singer seemed really to like Lisa, "The Girl on the Stairs", and besides calling her down to the stage to collect her prize, he later gave her another album. It was quite odd when later, as he was collecting email addys for band releases, he asked me, "You guys have the same address, right?"
Oh yeah, so you hit on the girl THEN think she's muh woman?! Seems me and Gerty-boy needed to step outside and discuss ettiquette. That or property rights, one.
But we didn't. And I got one of their albums, even if *I* had to pay $5 for it. But I did get a free sticker.

The night was elsewise pretty grand: I got a free beer and played a great new 80s videogame (Some racing game where you're a yellow car collecting flags and being chased by red cars. You can use a smoke screen to stop 'em! Anybody know names?) John, the singer from NE, knew Lisa and her fanzine, Thunderpants. Admit it. You love the name. He volunteered to make a disc for the second volume. This is where I blunder into the scene. John leaves with Lisa pondering making a new one and me volunteering (begging? "Really, I've got degrees in criticism and writing! I write reviews!") to help.

And now some sundries:

Book of the day: Ummm. I've been eschewing real books lately in favour of decade-old Dr Who novels from Virgin and BBC books*: I've gone through Last of the Gaderene, Love and War, The Scales of Injustice, First Frontier, The Tomb of Valdemar, Blood Harvest and am currently reading Nightshade. I've been given a copy of Pynchon's Mason and Dixon, but it looks so massive and daunting there on my nightstand I hestitate to pick it up.

Word of the day: Contre-temps. A very me Gallicism I've been using of late, meaning literally "against-times". A good description of a social conflict between a scandal-inducing disagreable and a snide look. Sort of the penetrating, low-level effect that would send undettes through Society.

This post brought to you by: The Magnetic Fields cover of Bowie's "Heroes", "Come Back from San Fransisco"; Kings of Convience, "Toxic Girl"; Sondre Lerche's album "Faces Down"; and The Eaves.

*As they STILL haven't gotten any in the US since last May...

I am Going through a Period of Extended Llew-absence

This explains a lot.
*sighs*

Ignore this.

I need to post it somewhere I won't lose it.
It certainly has nothing whatsoever to do with a boy in a band. Oh no.

http://www.indyweek.com/durham/2001-12-12/live.html

Oh Yeah?


What type of Indie are you? (now with pictures)
brought to you by Quizilla

He's Small.
He's Skinny.
He's Indie

I am of course in love:
Sondre Lerche.

Though I must learn how his name is pronounced.

That is all.

I'm Back. And It's About Time*

So. Internet connection is up and (somewhat) running. Something causes my computer to crash at inopportune times. Frequent inopportune times. But still, my mIRC program seems to work most of the time. Yay #sinister! (Yeah, I'm back to #1 in the stats as well). That's the most important thing, really, with this being a second.
I can't check my email, but I can do that at work.

So what's been up?
It was the Week of the Shows. I saw a show every night for close to a week. The Mercury Program/Mono at Go! Studios, The Weedeaters (featuring Ken Mosher of the Squirrel Nut Zippers and Robert Sledge of Ben Folds Five) at the Cave, Pedro the Lion (See below) at the Cradle, back to GO! for the Neins, Jett-Rink and Sorry About Dresden (another local show) and then back to the Cradle on Saturday for Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. It's been a bit too long to do any good reviews, but J'adore Jett-Rink. Viva (recently voted the best performer in the Triangle) is the singer of this punk band and I love, love, love them. They have Dr Who-esque keyboards... their description, not mine... and a sound all the kids adore. And as for Viva's writhing, leaping, crowd-joing performance, it's pure rawk swoonage matieral.
And Neil, the Record Shop boy was there, so I spent a great deal of time hiding. And drinking Miller High Life. Hey, yo: It's the Champagne of Beers.
So, generally, that week was smoking, drinking and being a Chapel Hill Scenester. And yeah, I did wait hours to see Stephen Malkmus after the show. Talk about your Hard Living causing Grizzled (but cute) looks.

I went home for Mother's Day and quickly repaired Elsewhere for Recovery.
That elsewhere being Hendersonville, NC, the new home of le Llew. I took Highway 64 out to visit, so I passed beautiful mountian top vistas, the gorgeous Lake Lure (where they filmed Dirty Dancing) on a perfect Spring day -- the water was a aqua-green like the ocean in high summer -- as I zipped around mountian curves at an excessive speed. I went through little towns (Bat Cave** or Chimney Rock) with the radio blasting Gloria Estefan's cover of Turn the Beat Around with the windows down and singing at the top of my voice. I realized I made the town of Chimney Rock gayer than it had ever been.
I wound up eventually at the little lake across from Laura's snoozing and watching ducks til she arrived. We mooched around her new complex casing, in essence, the entire joint. "I want /that/ chandelier!" I was pleased at the influence I've had on the girl's criminal instincts.
Then we cased the town. Nervous as I was to run into the Idiot Steve ("I'll roller blade uphill the wrong way up one-way street!") we decided to inspect the local mall. There was a little Christian book store (fish mints! scripture cookies! christian urban music! sodomizable indie-esque Xian boys!) and a disturbing kid with the mesmer stare and a lust for human blood. Well, presumably. We ran away too fast to be sure. You would, too.
We ate -- whilst it was fine pizza, alas there was no tale to tell about the waiter, Zeke -- and went to buy paint. Violet Puff. I realized it was the most domestic thing I had ever done with a girl before. This was made definite when we ran into one of Laura's acquintance, as I'd hate to say a girl with that many freckles was a friend. She peered at me like I was meat. That or a marriagible man in an Austen novel. I want to plant one on Llew just for effect, but discretion stayed my hand. Or lips, rather.
Then we went back to chez Lou's. I felt all like Hyacinth Bucket, thinking "This places has such... possibilities for entertaining!" I can't wait to see the Luv Shak, her extra bedroom kitted out as a Make Out Heaven, with velvet flock wall paper and a heart-shaped bed and red shag carpet. Sinister Spin the Bottle, here we come!

Life, since then, has been predictable dull. I work. I sleep. I practice piano and listen to the mix CD I burned and try to remember what I put on it at 3 am. I went to a really bad party (So... You're Gay. What's that like?) last night. I missed the Belle and Sebastian gig in Glasgow last night. I work early tomorrow.
Bleurgh.

That's enough for now. Tomorrow, when I'm bored and don't have weeks to catch up on, I'll return to the usual headings and supply all the links this post needs.
Chow.

*For those of you (Most) who don't get this, this was the BBC Tagline for the Dr Who Telemovie with the Pertwee Logo. (Dr Who, Time, Geddit?) 'Cept the Radio Times fucked it up.

**Alas, not nearly as exciting as you'd expect. Not one single teen-aged ward named Dick clad in tights or a unitard. Or even any amusing bats. Pah.

So.... What did you do tonight?

I saw these groups: Esther Drang, Stratford 4 and Pedro the Lion.
I talked to the leader of PtL about what they want to hear played on the radio.
Actually, it was Night of the Emo Kids. I was by Far the Oldest About that Night. I discovered they'd got the old school video game Crystal Caves in and played that at length (and got the High Score and All).[ And played them all through the opening acts. Yeah, so the Stratford 4 desperately want ot be the Cure from 1993...]
The Major used to take me to the Little General Convencience Store on a Friday night to play 75 cents worth of Crystal Caves when I was 4. It says something -- I dunno what -- that I got further tonight than ever with him around, even drunk as I was. Also, I was 18 till I knew its name was actually Crystal Caves and not Bentley Bear...
They also had Galaga and Ms Pacman, also old particular favs.
Then I met Pat.
He left his home in Charlotte to see Pedro the Lion. He got a flat tire on the interstate, like 6 miles from the Cradle. He needed help.
Oh yeah. He was 17. As in High School. As in: I'll miss my final exam tomorrow morning! As in: "The Smiths? Who? And who are this Belle and Sebastian you keep nattering on about?"
{As opposed to the Dirty Old Scotsman I also met -- from Glasgow, who was, well, old and dirty)
We met a ramdom dude who gave them a new tire (Gave!) to drive back home with.
Lucky, lucky pretty boy (with curly black hair and all) who didn't meet a dirty old man who'd take advantage of them.
Sad, sad old man who didn't press his advantage, really.

Sigh

So still no internet connection at home (I have service now AND the modem, but the software necessary for proper installation doesn't like my aging, idiosyncratic computer) and I lead a boring life* so nothing to post about really.
On the plus side, it's almost my birthday so I'm planning that festivity. Also, I bought 3... 6... 9... Seconds of Light on vinyl and a Merge Records comp (for $6, people! 20 great songs for $6!!) AND I have free tickets to see The Butchies (no, I don't know who they are either, but Kimya Dawson from the Mouldy Peaches is opening. Also I have this odd belief there might be a gay indie boy to pick up there tonight, for some reason**).

*When I'm not hanging out with the Essex Green or the Pinkslips, as I have this week. Yep, right after the show we all went along to Lantern and drank. We talked about their show in Scotland (E G is a side project of two people in The Ladybug Transistor) and they knew Gordon, my favourite bartender in the world, once again proving he is Damn Cool.

**They're all over the place in Chapel Hill, apparently, but damned if I can find one.

Scenester, Hipster
Indie, Emo

So remember this post about me being mistaken for a Ryan McGinty indie-type model? (26 Feb)
So the Raleigh News and Observer finally got around to printing the story that evolved from that fiasco. They were really pissed I wasn't one of those kids, so I'm not actually in the story but it sums of the local scene with amusing precision: "You can be on a high horse in a one-horse town." He he.
Actually, they do a pretty piss poor job. Chapel Hill, local scenester paradise gets the short end of the stick and the OCSC gets a "granola" description that is so not true. But still.
If you want to be a hipster, apparently one must read this.
But be prepared to laugh your proverbials off.

You Probably Heard Me Cum From There

My cross between sex and drugs returns after a fucking year:
Dr Who books return to US.

If you missed my radio show, You Are A Sucker!

It was officially my best ever. It made you shake your big ole butt, lie back in the summer sun, rock like a girly punk and croon along softly at 3 am in the rain.
I'm so posting the flowsheet when I get it back.
Course that takes THREE MONTHS!

I Forgot

So Laura is Officially the funniest person I know. She claims to have been very tired whilst watching Queer as Folk and I believe it. The distinctly graphic sex scenes apparently didn't phase her (yeah, like she's the only girl in the world who likes watching Gay Porno) but she made no real mention of them. What did she comment on, you may well ask:

Laura *watches the hott 15 year old try to score with an older guy*: Why doesn't he try to get boys his own age? He'll spend the rest of his life trying to do that.

Jay: *says nothing for 7 minutes because he's laughing so hard he gets oxygen starvation* He he... *gasp* He he... Oh wait. There was a Dr Who reference just then.

PS: Laura, the next episode, he gives a boy a handjob at school.

The only thing I don't like about that show is how much sex is going on. Specifically, these guys can't take a step without falling into some guy's mouth. Me, I can't pay people to get it. Maybe the blind thing will evince the odd pity fuck.

Hint, Hint

How to tell I'm not really listening.

Brian: So... I saw you at the show the other night.

Jay: Fine. How are you?

Brian: You really like them, right?

Jay: Oh, it was my friend Laura.

Brian: I SAID: You like them, right?

Jay: *very sweetly* You obviously have no sense of discretion or self-preservation or you'd have walked away by now.

Brian: *backs off slowly*

Yeah. I don't like being ditched AT ALL, yo.

PS: I made one tiny change to the site that cracks me up. Can you spot it?

Buy Some Violets, Guv?

I'm selling flowers on the corner of Rosemary and Cameron* because that's the traditional occupation of Blind People.
My poor eyes were burned out on my innocent perusal of Ms Laura Llew's site. Apparently, she went around taking pictures of some fat ugly boy and is claiming it's me. Bah! He DOES have some cute boots, though.

*No, this intersection technically doesn't exist since the roads run parallel, but it is mentioned in a cute Ben Folds Five song ("Kate" from Whatever and Ever Amen) so I'm going there.

Dammit, Yo.

SOMEONE had better confess this Miss Crush nonsense. It's driving me crazy. And not the cute, mumbles to self and rambles to others crazy, but the vicious sword weilding kind.

Nothing Much

Umm, Laura came to see the Delgadoes. They (both) rocked. We shamed a waiter. We ate pizza at Peppers. We laughed at Damooo.
Um, I'll talk about all this later, when I actually have a computer that works.
Also, I bought a really keen Delgadoes Baseball Tee.
Further, I bought Stars' (Star's? I'm not sure on this point) album Nightmusic, which contains my favourite ever cover of This Charming Man.
I'm illegally using the boss' (I am sure about that one) computer. Again. Which is a very bad idea. See here if you didn't get this poignant Sinister post vingette.
Okay. Work computer is funk-some. As opposed to funky. Go here instead: http://www.missprint.org/cgi-bin/anylistsearch.cgi?query=putney+common&list=sinister&smode=Phrase

His Eyelashes were the bars of a gilt cage

I'm reading Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth right now. It's great. My current financial and personal life make me keenly aware of what the heroine, Lily Bart is going through. We think very, very much alike and seem to have our emotions run parallel as well. Anyway, there's that for what it's worth.

And since Mark asked

This week's theme seems to be excessively nerdy Dr Who references and that's all the Putney Common thing is. BBC books -- well, their contracted author Paul Magrs -- have introduced this great new character over the past few years, called Iris Wildthyme. She's a bad parody of the Doctor. First of all, she was an old, fat whinging woman who wheezed around in a gin-soaked stupor lusting after the most current Doctor. (Not a difficult thing to understand). Then she changed into a Bond-esque, gold lame-catsuited blonde bomshell. She's always accompanied by very pretty, sexually ambivalent boys.

Anyway, her TARDIS is stuck in the form of a doubledecker Number 22 bus to Putney Common, as seen here. Note the presence of noted snappy dresser and great hero, Jon Pertwee also on the cover. Actually, this is a great book noteable for featuring deadly robotic sheep.

She's also in this book, The Blue Angel, and this book, Mad Dogs and Englishmen. The first has a very pretty glass boy on the cover and the latter is remarkable book, featuring giant talking poodles with ray guns, vicious parodies of George Lucas and J R R Tolkein and Noel Coward as the bad guy.
Seriously, you gots to look at these covers.

And, just for the record, here is a picture of Paul McGann as the Eighth Doctor. He is cute.

Update, Part II

" You lucky thing, someone has voted for you in the
Sinister list crush you sexy devil! Now all you have to
do is register a crush with the same person and you find
out WHO and eternal bliss will be yours.

For details see:
http://www.missprint.org/sinister/crush.html

Miss Crush x "

This is someone's idea of a joke. Now, who did this and why?*


*If you actually have a real crush, you poor dear, I'd go out, buy a wild badger, name it "Jay" and give it a hug. Our reactions are virtually the same.

PS: Whoever is visitor 2500 (I'm on 2496 now, I think) gets a secret prize!

Update

*peeps out from under bed*
*turns on Storytelling album*
*fetches Dr Who: The Book of the Still**
*returns under bed*

*For anyone interested, I don't really have this book as I haven't had any new Dr Who book since LAST JUNE.

Also, I work everyday except Monday and Friday, 1 to 9.**

**One word, cheese boy: Email***

***Further proof that "de tongues of men be full of lies" [Henry V, Act V, scene ii]

Go Away!

I'm not blogging today because the world is big and mean and confusing and I am very small and all I want to do for the rest of forever is hide under my bed and read old Doctor Who books.

I Bump My Head When Worlds Collide

So, I'm slowly becoming quite depressed at a) having been unceremoniously dumped and unaware why, b) being extremely poor and broke and -- cocomittantly with b) -- c) missing Spoon Saturday night.* I have retreated into books: I'm currently readinf The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton, who may just be my favourite author and the first ever Dr Who missing adventure novel, Goth Opera (it's about vampires).
However, I laughed out loud, an extreme rarity of late, while reading the first chapter. The exchange of two vampires in Manchester looking for food:

Madeleine: I fancy someone famous. How do you think Morrissey's blood would taste?
Jake: Like Milky tea, love.

I further giggled when I say the novel was from 1994, the year a certain Minx once considered travelling back to and losing her virginity to Mr Milky Tea Blood.

I also remembered that a chapter in another Dr Who book was called "Hatful of Hollow". Nerdiness ends here.

Word of the Day: [Courtesy of The House of Mirth and especially for Ms Sarah] Benedick: a young Bachelor OR a recently married long-term bachelor, depending on your source. It either comes from Benedict from Shakespeare's play Much Ado About Nothing or it doesn't.
Ah, the vagarities of the English tongue.

Also, I'm considering becoming a Lesbian. I'm narrowing down my choice for a Life Partner. My current picks: Kristen Idleberry, Caitlin Pigtails, Laura Llew. Technically, I should pick Llew as we already ARE engaged. I got a dowry and everything.

And Just for a Minute, I Was Sure I Was Laura Llew

I went to court today. (I lost, for those of you into mere mundanities, if over $1,000 can reasonably be called a mundanity.) But oh! the people I saw!
It was in Hillsborough, the county seat for Orange County, where I used to live, (I live in Durham County now) which unlike Chapel Hill is amazingly like the rest of North Carolina. I got the courtroom very early, since I had no idea where it was and desperately wanted to be on time -- I had nightmares the night before of bench warrants and angry bailiffs and the Orange County Correctional Facility. I sat off to a corner by myself and amused myself quietly by listening to my prosecutors prepare their case.
So of course, Bubba and Tommy Joe in the requisite camoflage jacket, overalls and John Deere mesh caps (yes, I thought about stealing them, but only cause they bitched for about ten minutes that they couldn't wear them inside) sat down right in front of me.
To my great unhappiness, I never learned what their case was about, other than "just a feeble attempt at extorsion. They ain't got no proof. No Goddammed Proof." They talked very loudly, just short of a bellow, while the rest of us just whispered in the presence of Justice. They mocked their accusers loudly and then planned their revenge. "I'm gonna set up a pig sty right next t'thuh property line and they ain't nothing they can do, so long as I don't use them pigs for profits." "That's right, Bubba, long as it's on agricultural/residential land." "Yeah it is.They rezoned roundbout the time Ella passed on." "Yeah, yeah. I remeber to that now." And how he was going to rebuild some car engine that rattles windows and leave it on for hours.

Mine was the first trial, alas, and was done and over in 2 minutes. Judge: "Your defence, son?" Me: "Umm. I don't have one. I owe the..." Judge: "Judgement for planitiff. Next." I promptly worked out a repayment schedule with the lawyer and went home for a nap, so I never heard the trial of Bubba and Tommy Joe, and man! I am kicking myself. You can't buy entertainment like that.

"But if they don;t see the quality then it is apparent that you're going to have to change or you're going to have to go with girls. You'd be better off..."

I hate boys. I thought I met a really, really nice one recently, but it was All Lies. I got ditched two nights in a row and then he didn't call the night before my trial when I really needed him to. I'm thinking of joining a charterhouse. In the mean time, I'll satisfy myself by being bitchy to Brian, the boy whereof I speak.

And quickly, as I'm late back to work...

I finished Thus Was Adonis Murdered (great!) and am now almost done with The Highest Science. I start The House of Mirth tonight.
Dr Who of the Day: Frontios.
I don't know what's up with my internet connection. I hope it gets to working soon.

My Apologies

Nothing interesting has happened to me lately. I've finished up the moving process and gone to work.
I won $10 by being the cafe employee of the month.
I go to the optometrist tomorrow.
Whee.

(My radio show is still Fridays, 8 to 10 am, GMT. PLEASE listen and call in or email.)

My Mind Is In The Gutter, Or At Least On The Loading Dock

I've noticed in the past two or three days there are lots of cool places in my store to make out on the down-low, yo.
I also know exactly why I've noticed.

Low-key Hokey

Not completely unrelated to the above post, there are SO many cute boys who work in (well, one) or come to (lots and lots) my store. I coined the above term as I was silently drooling over this adorable guy I delivered coffee to (dark curly hair! glasses!), trying to keep from exclaiming "Oh my hokey*" at the top of my voice and thinking "Be low-key, yo**."


Teething Troubles

So I moved yesterday. And wasn't it fun?
No.
The Major all but killed my bed (My bed, o sweet refuge! How I love it!). And this was the least of the day's trauma. I'm about to be swallowed by all my crap and just short of repenting of all worldly goods except Indie Pop vinyl and Doctor Who novels from 1977.
The biggest pain is no Internet connection. I'm hoping to fetch one Friday, when I get paid an can a) pay off my checking account overdraft so as to b) use my Visa-endorsed check card to get an ISP.
This means short blogging from work. See also above.

Quote of the Day: Brian: "Who needs Four copies of Wuthering Heights?"
Me: "Well, there are some pages stuck together in the Heathcliff descriptions."

*Indicates possible Llew over-exposure
**Yeah, I really do think "yo" in my head. Sad, isn't it?

I Want A Chapter In My Town

One of the things that makes Cat and Girl so cool is the whole concept of Hipster Scouts*.

This is their sash. It is cool. I'm drafting IGP into the Hipster Scouts so I can have a friend in them.

*I am at work and my [illegally downloaded] copy of thew Hipster Scout toon is on my computer at home. It will be posted.

In other news, Cursive tonight, Of Montreal and the Sames tomorrow night. Yip.
Also, I am grossly unprepared to move tomorrow.

Sigh

One day, I will go out with a boy on a first date and we will have a wonderful time and he will kiss me at the end of the night.
Yeah. It'll happen.

I said "WHAT?"

Last night, despite feeling ill, I went to a show a Go! Studios. I was supposed to meet a boy there. He didn't show up but I knew enought people there to have fun. But Go! is tiny and I forgot earplugs and, coupled with stopped-up ears from my plague, shouting "WHAT? I CAN"T HEAR YOU!" has been the order of the day.

The Show

It was started by Kill Rock Stars group The Quails from San Fransisco. They were quite good, in a girly/shouty/Sleater-Kinney way. Vocals were split between to the two girls who shouted their stuff with gusto. Umm, I didn't see the whole set (fashionably late, you see) but I liked them. I'll play them on my show. Actually, what was best about them was this: I didn't /know/ I wanted to hear something that rocked that hard, but I did. It was exactly right for what I needed.

The next act was called Hella. They were also from California, from Sacramento.They're also on Kill Rock Stars (as are, oh... Bikini Kill, Sleater-Kinney, Mary Lou Lord and Xiu Xiu). I didn't care for them. They were two guys -- guitar and drum. No lyrics, not much melody. The technique was incredible, granted, I mean these boys can play, but it was like pieces from an exercise book. There was nothing to like, really, and nothing to do but marvel at their skill. But like poor Baroque composers, that's all you noticed. No soul.
I did notice the crowd during their set. There were maybe three or four dozen people there, all decked out in IndieCool clothes. I was intrigued by the girl in the plaid skirt and cardigan in front of me. She had perfect Indie hair. There was also the boy I dubbed "Stephen Patrick Morrissey, aged 19, is alive and well and living in Ornage County." There were the very dull dykey lesbians with mullets and flannel shirts, the cute boy working the door (and I do mean Working the door), Viva (who Doesn't Know Me*), Kate, IGP's roommate and the Quiet Dude who leaned in the corner and didn't say a word. What amused me most was Jay's Rule No 3: there are no average-height Indie Kids. All the short people were in the front and the tall people (Viva most noteably) in the back, all arranged very sweetly.

The Aistlers Set was the headliners, so they went last. They rock. Hard. Two guitars, bass, keyboard (swoon) and drum kit, with glockenspiel and trumpet thrown in. Amy, one of the guitarists, played trumpet and guitar at the same time, which I thought was impressive. I once proclaimed them "Pure poppy goodness" on air and it's true, although as per their site I should thrown in "post-punk" as well. Everyone bopped; everyone danced; everyone had a good time. It was fun. They played new stuff. They played old stuff. The girls cracked each other up. At one point Jen told Amy "You're so cute tonight!" It was sweet.
(I talked to Jen in between sets, before I knew she was in the band. She was gear!)

Book of the Day: I finished Cold Fusion. They killed the Patient. I was shocked. (It's hinted she was the Doctor's wife, you see.) The destruction at the end was amazing. A whole fleet blown up.
The characterization remained great, each Doctor doing his typical thing. Doctor 5 is worried about the Patient and her TARDIS; Doctor 7 about an alternative race of Time Lords and their entire Universe. And in so doing, mucking up each other's plans. There was great tension when the Doctors met, since the Fifth is the Quintessential Nice Guy (he wears a cricketing costume, for Christ's sake) and the Seventh is an evil plotter. The ending is apropos: Forrester, the 7th Doctor's companion, decks the younger Doctor into amesia.
Anyway, it was interesting to see how the violence that surrounds the Doctor and often is ignored is highlighted with a single shot.

Dr Who of the Day: A t-shirt! At work! Like a really old one: it had the old diamong logo (pre-1979) and was distressed and perfect! On a girl! Red shirt, yellow silk screening! I asked her how she got it (gift years ago from her father) cause I SO wanted to buy it. Off her. Right then. But I didn't cause I was broke.
Le sigh.

Word of the Day: "Beraht" It's an Anglo-Saxon word that means umm, sort of 'bright and shining or notable'. It's a particles that goes to make up lots of names: Albert, Cuthbert, Dogbert, Egbert, Filbert, Gilbert, Herbert, Norbert, Robert were the ones I could up with quickly.
What's your name mean, then?

This post brought to you by: "Owls Go" by Architecture in Helsinki. An Australian band that Phil the World Traveller sent me. It's actually a bit Aislers Set-y and B&S-y. I am in love. Wanna hear? I'll be playing them soon on air, but I've got two mp3s for you, if you want.
Dude, Ask for it!

I'm Sick Dammit!
Or, no jaunty headlines here

Euch.
I'm sick. I haven't slept properly in two nights. I'm all achey and tired and bitchy. And every time I cough, it feels like my head is going to explode. I turn into a baby when I'm sick. I really want somebody to take care of me, bring me soup and powerful cold medicines. Or least just to cuddle a bit with.

New Links
Patrick left a comment the other day. I think it was his subtle attempt at saying "Hey! Go look at my site!" I'll save him the trouble: Hey! Go and look at his site!
You really should. He's a photographer with some really nice work on his site.Well, as much as I know about photography, I think so. It's like dance or painting or any other art I can't do: I admire it to distraction, but can't comment terribly well. Also, his domain name is from a great Belle and Sebastian EP 3... 6... 9.. Seconds of Light (It has my favourite line in B&S, from "Put the Book Back on the Shelf" -- "Sebastian, you're in a mess, you had a dream they called you the King of all the Hipsters. Is it true or are you still the queen?"* -- AND the song "La Pastie de le Bourgeosie"). He also has the ending .tk, the first I've seen. Very cool.

New blogs: Ulla's, Feather Boa's and Damon's.
Ulla does pictures for her posts. They're entrancing (the Pocketbook Angel is one of hers as is the image of Llew at her site). They have an initial simplicity that gives away to a really remarkable complexity. It's something in the shading, I think, and how the line drawings engage the memory. Pretentious sounding, I know, but I think the simplicity here is similar to some line drawings in modern art (Think Pollack or Giacometti).

Feather Boa is a York Sinister girl. She asked me questions about Theatre. This means I love her. Also, the first time I saw a Weather Pixies was on her site. I also am given to understand she's /very/ hot**.

Damon is a local boy who literally lives down the street. He's very political and has a lot of links to different news sources and does a lot of thinking about the war. He eats a lot of cheese.

A Few Random Links

I've been meaning to post this for several weeks:
The history of a madman. This is a site that shows how an artist fell into schizophrenia. It has portraits he did of his cat as his disease progressed. I don't know what it means, but the last ones I find absolutely mesmerizing.

The Lord's Prayer in Ebonics , in Klingon and Elvish.
Also, in languages I'd like to know: Provencal, Romantsch, Frisian
and Gothic.

Engrish: what more do I need to say?

Book of the Day: Cold Fusion. A Dr Who book. I stopped reading Thus Was Adonis Murdered half way through because I was filled with the desire to read this book. I don't know why. It's good though: the 5th Doctor meets the 7th. Written by Lance Parkin, so you know it's good. The characterization is spot on, and the plot is complex and believable. It makes the best of the novel form by having things the TV series could never do, like fleets of Adjudicator ships (space police of the future) and an ice planet setting. That works very well. Everything there is frigid and that comes across.And then there's the Patient (geddit: Doctor and his Patient?), and interesting relationship that is very fuzzily defined.

Word of the day: Fucknozzles. A Will Porter-ism, I admit, but the single most satisfying curse I;ve heard in a while. It's fulfilling just to say: lots of consonants and enough syllables to get really invested in saying it.Say it over and feel the release! I may name my first child "Fucknozzle".

Reason Laura Llew rocks: The Cat Mask. Oh yeah. Vinyl and Llew = a match made in heaven.

This post brought to you by: The Aislers Set. They play here tomorrow night. Duncan Sheik plays Wednesday. WXYC 80s party Saturday night. Oh yeah.

Exterminez-Vous! Exterminez-Vous!

So, I downloaded this hysterical bit from Kazaa. It's a comedian (Billy Bragg, maybe?) talkign about Doctor Who. The first half is him describing with his keyboard an old episode, and how one man did all the sounds and music, amd how terrifying it was for a little kid back in the day. Now, this is funny stuff and very clever -- it's accurate, which is the best stuff.
But then! He says, "But when I listen to it now... It sounds like 60s Belgian Jazz." Then he does a version of the theme song in this grand 60s Sergio Mendes/Serge Gainsbourg manner with this HYSTERICAL voice over! "C'est lui... en la nuit... Docteur... Qui! Il voyage en la TARDIS, le boit de phone... L'enemie s'appelle Davros! Il est demi-dalek et demi-homme! Fantastique! Il veux controller le monde! Controller le monde! Toujours controller le monde! Aupres petit dejeuner controller le monde! Mais... il n'est pas realistique!"
Man, just ask and I'd love to send it to you!

Also, I move on Saturday. Yay!

*There's a story, all right. Yes indeed. But later. Another post.

**Source wishes to remain anonymous

If I Cry to Set the Mood, Oh Please Would You Cry Too?

Don't be ridiculous. Of course you won't. My old books and my obscure music don't matter much to anyone.
No one cares about what I do anymore, the relique of an age that never was.

Today was no better.
I heard "Long December" by the Counting Crows today at work. I hate them, but the song expresses how I feel, worn out and past care. I can't even find a way to properly describe how I feel. I just... don't feel anything right now. I don't want to do anything or talk to anyone or do much else but sleep. There was a party tonight, people from work, and lots of people asked if I was going. I didn't. I don't want to drive there, I don't want to drink, I don't feel like having fun.
It could be worse. I could be on a crying jag. Not that I can remember the last time I cried about anything.

I cut my finger yesterday quite badly. I was cutting lemons. I sliced into my finger at an angle. It's maybe 1/2 inch long and 3/4 inch deep. It's open and gross and will take forever to heal.

There are two new links up for those who are interested, to Kevin Jackflap's and Damon's blogs. They are both quite nice. I'll mention them later, I hope.

The Pastels were recommended to me recently (see below) by Kristin Idleberry. I wasn't going to listen to them at all, because someone was making me a mix CD of them. I gave up on that and played them on my show. They rock AND the boy is cute. I'll listen to more of that, oh yes.
I wanted to say that since I'd not responded at all to that comment.

I can't think of anything else to say.

I've just realized I've done a crap job of blogging lately.
I suck.

I've spent the last few nights talking to someone til very late which explains a bit.
I've also been working day after day (I'm on Day 6 of 9 consecutives ones. I loathe my crappy dead-end job right now) which explains a bit.
But mostly, I've just been despondant and apathetic: I'm morbidly depressed but can't be arsed to /do/ anything about it.
I should be writing and should be reading.
All I do is sleep and work. I've even stopped eating properly (Since Yo La Tengo my solid food has been: three bites of cauliflower, a beef and bean burrito, egg and sausage and, tonight, corned beef and cabbage) since I drink three lattes a day and the caffiene destroys my appetite. Conveniently,. I *am* losing weight.

I have links to post.
I have songs to discuss.
I have poems to put up.

But...
I'm just not in the mood tonight.
I thinkI'll just sigh and go to bed.

Eighteen Dead in Yo La Tengo Concert Disaster

Carrboro

Eighteen young people are dead tonight after a riot at local live music venue, the Cat's Cradle. The event is a bizzarre real-life version of an event described in the online parody newspaper, The Onion.

The riot started when Laura Llew*, 25, of Western North Carolina, was interrupted while tinkering with sound equipment. Llew was removing connecting wires from their jacks when she was approached by the technician.

Nonplussed, she took up an aluminium crutch used by another patron and started swinging. She may also have been provoked by an unidentified Emo girl who stepped on her.

"It was real weird. She was all curled up and quiet when Bam! She took to swingin. She hit me right in th' mouth. It hurt real bad," said another victim, a blonde girl in a denim jacket who asked to remain anonymous.

Reports have Llew masochistically screaming "Spit on me. Spit on me!" It appears nobody did.

The violence accelerated soon after. Six people were killed and 2 dozen people recieved minor injuries from flying beer bottles and cigarette burns. Members of the band cowered in a corner of the stage. They remained unhurt.

Twelve victims were killed in a stampede for the door, as has happened twice recently in clubs in Chicago and Rhode Island. "I hate to see so many young people killed for no real reason" said Curtis McClintock, a Carrboro police officer who was on the scene. "It was just unreal what happened. Blood everywhere. Lot of ruined vintage clothes."

In a gruesome twist, Llew appeared to have stolen the clothes from at least one victim. Charles Levier, 19 of Maston Grove, IL, was found without his frame glasses. Witnesses recall Llew pointing to him earlier in the night.

Police are still looking for Llew as of press time. Also wanted for questioning is Jason Eckard, 24, of 501 Jones Ferry Rd, who may have also been a participant.

Club owners have already started rebuilding. They hope to be open for a show by the Delgadoes late next month.

A spokesman for Yo La Tengo has said the band is "Shocked and appalled such a thing would happen at their concert. They grieve with the families of the deceased and pray for the injured. They will continue on their tour, but 'Autumn Sweater' [the song played when the riot began] will not be played again."

Yo La Tengo has a new album to be released next month.

*A known alias

Blah, Blah, Blah...
Or, Warning: Bitchy Post Ahead

I'm very susceptible to outside influence. I've been moody of late, as in the bipolar sense of ecstatic one minute and hiding under the bed the next and I'm listening to this morose Sinister mix tape. I just got two. One is Grr-eat and one is currently making the idea of slitting my wrists attractive again.

I'm not going on about how generally disatisfied I am or how much I want a boyfriend or a career. I waste far too much time here whining and whining is UNPRODUCTIVE.
Although I think I realized one of the reasons I like having a boyfriend. Yeah, I imagine there are more, like sex, but it's been so long I forget exactly what that is and why exactly it's desirable.
[Here I had to get up and change the CD. I'm listening to my Best of Edith Piaf album...]
Contrary to what you may gather here, I do not in fact talk about myself very much in person. Almost everything I talk about is what my friends have done, current events and obscure historical events/perspectives. At best, you might get the odd story of what I did five or ten years ago.
What you'd never, ever hear me discuss is how I feel, let alone why. Ever.
Unless you just happen to be the person I was going out with*.
That's what I miss. Talking about the way I feel to somebody who (presumably) understands. I feel like I know a lot of people and none very well. I certainly don't feel like anybody knows me very well. (Oh yeah? What am I most afraid of? See?)
I think the word I'm looking for is "intimacy." Yep. Got none o' that in these parts.

Intersexual Relations

There's this boy I kinda like at work. (No, of course I haven't talked to him like that. I like him.Though we do talk about music some, since he works at WXYC.) His best friend at work is a lesbian. I was talking to her today about him (Me: "Is he going to be at the Big Boring Meeting tonight? Her: Why? Me: No reason. Her: YOU LIKE HIM! Me: *stutters and ineffectively denies it*)
As I got back into our little cafe, the [straight] cashier asks: "Who are you talking about?" I refused to discuss the subject.
In thinking about this little exchange, I realized I'm pretty cynical about my relationship with straight people. At least at work. Especially straight boys. Often they'll ask what boy I like. I never tell them. I've never met boys that question did creep out at some level. They phreak if they think it's them, like I'm going to try to rape them in the workplace. And they suspect any innocent boy I might like as an automatic fag, which I don't necessarily want to happen to them.
It just doesn't do much good to ever answer that question at work.
Straight girls I will talk to, but I have to know them very well. I tend to think they'll immediately run and tell said boy and create the whole situation over again.
Gay girls and boys are different. I fee like, wait, I know, they know the score. It's a bit moot as I think I'm the only gay boy at work, but there are very many girls at work. A LOT.
Isn't this dumb? I should have a bit more faith, but I *do* live in the South. I do have some experience in such relations and they all tend to support these views.
Also, this generally only at work. Outside it's a bit different. I'm hoping this is some attempt at professionalism.
Ha! The professional coffee-boy!

People, you need to comment more. I need feedback.

Book of the day: Thus Was Adonis Murdered, Chap. 5. I read this at work tonight during a store meeting about health care benefits and other general crap. The Prepared Foods Supervisor stared at me the whole time. We ARE paid for these meeting, but they're after we close (9 pm) two hours long, incredibly tedious and unabashedly repetitive and aimed at 6th grade level. I therefore brought a good book. I imagine I'll get bitched at tomorrow.
Oh well.

Word of the Day: Zeugma: the imagistic version of syllepsis: She went home in tears and a sedan chair. "Zeugma" is from the Greek word "to yoke". My antedeluvian book Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1929) says that only tired old Drama Critics use it in tired reviews for hackneyed comic effect.
Yeah. Gotta remember that.

This post brough to you by: Edith Piaf, "La Vie en Rose**", "Milord", "Le Piano Vieux", "Toujours Aimer", "Mon Dieu", "Hymne l'Amour"; Mozz, "You're the One for Me, Fatty"; Sara Vaugh, "Key Largo".

*Notice the past tense here

Fuck it all

This is the third time I've started to write this damn post. I keep going to fetch an address for a link to Duncan Sheik site's and losing the text at Blogger Editing.
Damn you Ducan Sheik! Damn you to hell! You shall get yours!

First things Second, now

Poked by Brian I went to this site, the video for a cute little novelty act.
It's great! It'll get stuck in your head and you'll sing it to yourself at work. At least, I did.
"GAY BOYFRIEND! GAY BOYFRIEND! La, la, la, la!"
I need to get hardcopy to play on my show. I figure, Brian may be able to book 'em in New York, but I can play 'em in Durham.
I think I went out with one of these girls in high school*; I know for damn sure I did in college.
Anyway, the blonde's gay boyfriend is hott. If all goes to plan, I too shall fit into blue vinyl pants by June.

Housing Authority

I found a new place to live today. In Durham, in a nice, quiet little neighborhood near down town and my radio station. It's a house and it has hardwood floors, piano, cheap rent and they'll take my cat. I move in April.
I don't like not being down the street from Henry's or Cat's Cradle or the Orange County Social Club, but they're still close and I've not been frequenting them as much lately because of my poverty. And now I have an excuse to hang out in Durham places.

We're the Coolest Place in 1996 in 2003

The above was my response to being in my store Thursday. Two-thirds of the late Ben Folds Five were there (D*rren Jesse and Robert Sl*dge) and a Squirrell Nut Z*pper, Ken M*sher was around since he works there now. It was unintentionally catty.
They all were talking again together on Sunday, and I got waved over by Ken. We talked local music for a bit with me thinking "If only this had happened when I was a senior in high school..."*** We all began to deride...

Duncan Sheik or,
No, I Don't Really Care If He Reads This

First of all, a review if his newest album (Daylight, I think. I can't be bother to find our for certain. I DO know the single is called "On a High" because I was assailed by it when I visited his website for some addresses) from the Lost at Sea website here.
It equally applies to David Grey*** or John Mayer**** as That Heterosexual Dave, who gave the address site, himself quipped.

I have a particular distate for Duncan Sheik as I used to have a wee crush on him. Think about: a tall, pale, dark, melacholy boy who plays the acoustic guitar and moans about being alone. Definite crush matieral, yes? Here he is, as he would look: Just look! Note especially his tasteful lack of shown apparel.
Imagine my surprise when in fact, he looked like this: scroll down till you see his pic.
Eek! Talk about misrepresentation! If I were England, you'd better believe the Trade Descriptions Act would be invoked!
There's also a story about him being locked in a limo at a party by four girls. With that pic, I can believe it!
This is to say nothing about the progressively whinier, poppier music he creates.
I still like some of his older stuff (his last release, Phantom Moon, all acoustic music, is still good, but it was written as the soundtrack to a play and none of the lyrics are his own.)
He plays the Cat's Cradle in three weeks. I'm so there in heckle mode! I'm not bothering to get advances tickets as I can't imagine it selling out and I couldn't bare the smirks on the faces of the advance tix salespeople.
Duncan also claims to be working on a musical adaptation of Frank Wedekind's play Spring Awakening. It's all about teen sexuality -- its highlight is a circlejerk -- and has been censored since it was written (I'm relatively sure the unexpurgated version's not been done). Stop drooling, Andy.
How exactly this lends itself to faux-indie crooning, I don't know.
This bit does segue nicely into...

I'm in Transports of Delight, Yo!

Everyone's favourite concert venue just released its Spring Schedule here. Coming up this season: the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Cat Power, Arab Strap, Bright Eyes, Yo La Tengo, the Delgados and Spoon!
*Wiggles butt in rock anticipation mode*

Mundanities now

Book of the Day: Thus Was Adonis Murdered, Sara Cauldwell. This book makes me feel smart ans witty, like I could just manage to be one of the characters. They all seem terribly familiar. And I know some about the Art History of Venice, even if I've never been there. (Which is almost just as well as I understand the canals smell terribly.) I love the working of sex and gender into the story, in a way that lets you speculate what Britian would have been like in a warmer climate. A bit wordy, but worth it.
I suspect the narrator is female (you can't tell) merely ona hunch.

Dr Who of the Day: Doctor Who and The Enemy Within, or as it's more popularly known, The US Telemovie with the Pertwee Logo. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. All that was bad about the show cobbled together, then dumbed down and padded with needless action shots for the American audience. It has huge problems with script (how does the Master get in the TARDIS being the most glaring) and the show's history (Oh yeah, the Doctor's half human. We forgot to mention that.) Fannish pedanticism as that seems, it's worth noting. The NAME of the show is Doctor WHO. He is never called anything but "Doctor." He is supposed to be mysterious and alien. Not human. It's the basis of the show.
He certainly doesn't snog the girl!
And wasting 80% of the budget on the console room was silly. Even if it looked good.
Which was a shame, because Paul McGann was quite good. He provided an excellent basis for the Doctor in the BBC novels, a real foil to the dark, manipulative Doctor who followed him.

Word of the Day: syllepsis, in grammar, it is when one word performs to syntatical functions or a single word acts in two roles: "Pan with sheep, the Pythia with Laurels crowned." In more modern days, people confuse it with Zeugma.

Recommended television: Not Boomtown. Man, there's only so much plot you can cram in 52 minutes. The actors have so much going on they stop acting and just emote all over the place.

HAPPY MARDI GRAS FOLKS!

*Not literally. Just the type of girl

**Vowels removed to prevent errant googling. Well, how would you feel if you googled yourself only to come up with my bitchy remarks?

***Yeah, I listen to him, too.

****But NOT HIM. Ugh. He's a ponce royal.

I Lied...

Not long ago, I said "My Friends Are Cool... But I Am Not."
Turns out it was a lie. I am cool.

This is the article from the New York Times. Sunday's hard copy had several pictures of Ryan.
Sunday night, I got an email from the Raleigh News and Observer's Fashion and Style editor. The letter ran:

"Dear Mr Eckard
Can we call you Jay?
First of all, congrats on being included in Ryan McGinty's new show in New York. We're sure the after party was fab!
We'd love to sit and talk with you about your New York society experiences, the underground scene there and McGinty's photography of the "Indie" World. It's to be included in an upcoming story in our Sunday Stylin section.
Just contact us at [their email address and telephone number].

Thanks!"

Very chatty for an newspaper editor, I thought.
Nice story, though, right?
The catch: I've been to New York only once. New Year's, remember? I doubt McGinty was combing the streets of Manhattan in the freezing rain looking for soaking hayseeds in leather car coats.
I'm not in any of his pictures.

I can't decide which of the three options to follow:

A) Balls it out big time:
"Oh yeah. I almost skipped the gallery completely. My date -- Jeff Buckley -- and I tottered out to see a show during the opening. We came back for the afterparty. It was totally gear. Mad booze, man, mad booze. I was standing talking to one of those Le Tigre girls -- can you keep them apart, I can't! -- when Ryan walks up to say hello. Of course, I play it cool, cause everyone knows Ryan is really a pain in the ass, but hey, it's his night, you know? When Mick Cooke threw up on my shoes, it capped the night. It was a statement really..."

B) Lie, but close to reality:
"Yeah, I went with my two friends Brian and Laurel. We pottered around the gallery for a while, kinda late cause we went out drinking first. The party was huge, and Brian and Laurel knew like everybody and I knew four people, so I stood in the corner, drinking. After a while, I worked up enough courage to talk to a boy in the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. He was cool. Later, I got the number of a really cute boy from Weehauken when he realized I was in one of the photos. I left earlier than most."

C) The truth: "I'm not in any of his pictures, but I would like to meet some of the boys who are."

The truth may set you free, but it's not nearly as much fun.

Speaking of amusing...

At work, we wound up talking about crazy high school stuff, and I told these two tales. Both true.

My senior year of high school, we gave out awards to the teachers. They were "The Armour Brand Potted Meat Food Product Awards for Excellence Above and Beyond the Call of Potted Meat Food Product." The Committe of Three -- my friends Darren, Chris and I -- would select an appropriate teacher and anonymously deliver a can of said brand Potted Meat to their desks.
We did it all year, but no-one ever figured out who was doing it. We even heard teachers debating who would get the next one in jealous terms.
At the end of the year, we chipped in and got a can of Spam Bronzed for the bronzen Spam Award, the year's culmination of monthly awards. Dave Thomas, master of Social Studies, was the recipient. He proudly bore it on his desk. At last report (last year) it was still there, six years later.

Collegiate non-sense

It is a little-known fact I had a political career.
I was the leader of an independent country for an afternoon. Since it lost its war with the US and had its sovereignty dissolved, I am a Minister in Exile. Just like the Shah of Iran.
During my summer job at the Elizabeth II in Manteo one year, we discovered that part of our island flooded when it rained. You have to understand the E-2 was moored off Iceplant Island, an Island in Shallowbag Bay, off Roanoke Island. Therefore after the flood, we were an island off an island off an island.
Naturally, we declared independence.
We read that in war, to formally end, the country must be officially recognized.
We knew that to shoot a Coast Guard vessel was an act of war.
Our friends were passing by in a CG skiff.
We had a gun with blanks.
We fired.
Fortunately, our friends recognized us and went along with it. They filled out the appopriate incident forms. Our country was The Independent and Sovreign Republic of St. George; its capital was our little shrine from the soldier's camp, St Jay's By the Soundside; it leader, the First High Minister, Jason-Andrew Collins Le Fey Eckard. Population: 6. Government: said High Mininster, Ross Braxton Bryant (Minister of Culture) and Paul Anderson (Deputy Minister in All Affairs).
Our country ceased to exist at 5.03 pm, 28 July 1999, after existing since 12.40 pm that afternoon.

We mourn for her still.

Book of the Day: White Darkness. I'm still getting over how odd this version of Dr Who is. Bitchy, gun-toting companions. He finally switches out of his TV get-up (that stupid Question mark pull-over) for a sweet linen suit, silk shirt and jade green cravat. Topped off with a cream fedora with paisley band. Nice sense of style.
The writing is bad, clunky and unfinished with little editing. The ideas are not bad or un-developed, just... derivitive? Not quite... Immature, I think, and rushed. Virgin's Dr Who department was putting out one book a month with virtually no experienced authors to a pretty bitchy audience, so it was surprising the work wasn't total shit. No suprise was its nick name, The Fiction Factory.

Dr Who of the Day (yes, more...) Masque of Mandragora, part 2-4. Ooooh. Swell. Plus que swell. The same script editor/producer team that created my very favourite story (The Pyramid of Mars) return to the same kind of story. Alien influence in a historical setting. This time the Mandragora Helix (intelligent energy spiral) versus 15th Century Italy by means of the revived Cult of Demnos.
San Martino come to us from a little Renaissance town built in Wales (no, I have no idea why, boyo, but it makes a change from t'Pit I geuss). And since Aunt Beeb is the patron goddess of period drama, it looks gorgeous. The plot works well -- destroy Science before it was born and take over the world by a little cult (Hey, don't knock it. It worked for St Paul...). The acting is great and Heiroynmous is superbly Over the Top. And there's swordfighting.
A new console room is introduced, all maghony and brass. Forgotten for years, it's prescient of the Let's-use-all-the-buget-on-one-set console room extravaganza from the US Telemovie with the Pertwee Logo.
Highly Recommended.
Repeat Offender: Norman Jones, the evil astrologer Heiroynmous was Major Baker in Doctor Who and the Silurians, where he spread the plague that almost destroyed the world. He was in The Abominble Snowmen, too, but nobody's seen that since the Seventies when it was junked.

I can't think of a good word of the day. You tell me one for a change.

The entry brough to you buy: "Not Quite a Yes" Arab Strap, "Hallelujah" Jeff Buckley, "Chicago at Midnight", Spoon and "Living Room" by Tegan and Sara.

Recommended Television: None. I haven't seen much this week except this extremely disturbing Elementary Maths show with a multiplication X with two heads called Multiplex who asks questions like "Can you recongize this pattern made with /shapes/?" It's called MathMonsters. Still better than FOX, though.
Damn. I need cable. Stat.

I haven'd been to XDU to snoop around on good new music yet this week.

By Demand

So I was harrassed the other day about not updating.
Thank you, Mr No-Blog.
Expect reciprocity when yours is up and running. ;)
Accordingly, here is the demanded update. Be warned. You asked for it.

First things First

I was the Recommended Blog of the week at Recro-Secretarial this week!
Whoot!
Everyone should accordingly go there and take in the bliss therein contained!
It's not for no reason she's called secsy.
(It's a pun, geddit?)

Also, I was the second person to sign up for the Sinister Weblog.
Set up again by Secsy. Check the new neato ad down to the bottom of the page.
I imagine it'll be huge by next week as these things spread like no-one's business and every Sinister kid and his brother has a blog, but I was in On The Ground Floor. Oh yes.

The I Still Don't Get Girls Dept.

I found the most disturbing document I've ever seen at work today.
We have unisex bathrooms (ick) because it's Whole Foods Market. I saw a slip of paper on the floor there, and being bored, picked it up and read it.
It was the directions for our Organic Tampons.
Ew ew ew ew!
They were explicit, dude. Like more explicit than any girlfriend I had ever was with me! "Use your hand to ease open the skin that covers your vaginal opening."
Now, I'm intentionally ignorant of how these things work, but do they really need INSTRUCTIONS?
It got worse the more I read. The last instruction: "Never insert more than one tampon at a time."
I mean: ??!?!
The icing on the cake: "Always remember to remove the last tampon at the end of your period."
What, do you forget these things are up there? Honestly!
I was so disturbed I couldn't talk to a girl for over an hour...

Go See This Film

Metropolis, Fritz Lang, 1927.
My hokey. This is the most incredible thing I've ever seen.
I've seen German Expressionism before (like The Cabinent of Dr. Caligari) but it never worked like this. This was beautiful. The imagery was genius. It was beautiful and powerful. The Overcity was Epic, Megalithic, but simple and understated which made it more effective. Think: a modern Stonehenge.
The Undercity was bent and exaggerated, perfect for the sunconscious mind.
And the acting. The acting! It came off perfectly even without sound. It was stylized, but it was so in sync with the rest of the production that it wasn't an irritant like it could have been. There was a fluidity of movement counterpointed with mania that gorgeous. It was like mime.
It was simple enough to be mythic and archetypal but complex. Actually I think simplicity is an illusion created by functional complexity. It all comes together in a unity of purpose, function and uniqueness -- Aquinas' claritas, unitas and quiditas -- so seemlessly that looks easy. Everything occurs at once together without conscious effort. Understanding occurs spontaneously. That's why the fairy tale that is a depiction of the ego versus the id or the concsious verus the subconcious or the workers verus the elite is so deceptively simple.
That sums up what I like best about it: everything in this works together in the telling of the story. No disperate elements. Of course, that's how it's supposed to work always. The danger with expressionism, I find, is that the conventions used overshadow the story instead of serving it.

This Week's Big Idea

Actually, I've been noticing this for quite a while recently, and I imagine I'll go on for some time.
It's music producers' work, or what you hear when in a song.
I was listening to Belle and Sebastian's "Seeing Other People" on their mixtape I made that I always listen to in my car when I noticed Belle Campbell sawing away on her cello at the end of the song. I'd never noticed before. I went back and listened, and it's there the whole way through, but very quiet up until the end. It adds so much to the song to have that there at that point, I think this great, solid bass sound underneath the rest of the music.
SInce then, I've been listening intensely to all the music on that tape (and everywhere else). I think it has to be music you know very well to really appreciate it, to hear something different the 150th time, but it's very rewarding to suddenly realize:My god! The drums in Lazy Line Painter Jane!
Actually, I LOVE THAT SONG. The organ in that has done to save my soul than anything else in my life. I listen to it obscenely loudly. In summer I will make an ass of myself as I have been screaming along with it this winter with the windows up and will continue to do so with them down when it is warmer.

Book of the Day: White Darkness. The TARDIS arrives in Haiti, 1915. Ancient evil stirs. Vodoun (apparently how you really spell voodoo, along with zombi or jumbi for zombie) appears. World War I is waged in Europe and the US prepares to take over Haiti. Egregious references to H P Lovecraft arise (The local pathologist cum anthropolgist [Is this an odd combination to anyone else?] is named Howard Phillips. Cue the subtle flashing neon light.)_
Did you know the US ruled Haiti from 1915 to 1934? Me neither.
I realized with a start this book is TEN YEARS OLD. I remember buying it in Waldenbooks in Valley Hills Mall. I haven't read since I first bought it. It seems clunky and a little hacknied, which isn't too odd as it is the author's first novel. And it's strange how the series has changed from the uber-manipulative seventh Doctor who is actually not very heroic and strangely distant with a transparent past to the all-too-touchy feely Human Eighth Doctor with no memory.
Not that I'd know. I haven't read a new Dr Who book since June. June, people. Please, Britons! Pity me and bung one in the post for me! They're cheap!

Word of the day: houngan: a voodoo priest

This entry brought to you by: Perry Como, "Papa Love Mambo"; Baxendale, "Music for Girls", Harry Belafonte "Man Smart, Woman Smarter"; Art Attack, "I Am a Dalek"

Recommended new music from WXDU: Pac/Cal and Survive and Advance, Vol II (a new comp from MERGE records, featuring Lampchop, the Buzzcocks, the Magnetic Fields, Superchunk and lots of other great stuff 16 of 18 tracks are unreleased matieral)