Wednesday, December 25, 2002
Tuesday, December 24, 2002
Ugh.
Holiday bliss my sweet ass.
I've got my usual icky holiday feeling going on.
At my house, Christmastime means all my family gather in one room and stare viciously at each other.
Presents exist only as means to extend (now) decades-old disputes. Or better yet, out and out name calling, especially to me.
A relic of some strange Puritan compulsion makes us all go, every year, and endure it like purgatory.
It makes me feel sad to know I go to this and everybody else looks forward to this time of year, and sad that I have to go through it.
Oh well.
Only a week to New Years.
Holiday bliss my sweet ass.
I've got my usual icky holiday feeling going on.
At my house, Christmastime means all my family gather in one room and stare viciously at each other.
Presents exist only as means to extend (now) decades-old disputes. Or better yet, out and out name calling, especially to me.
A relic of some strange Puritan compulsion makes us all go, every year, and endure it like purgatory.
It makes me feel sad to know I go to this and everybody else looks forward to this time of year, and sad that I have to go through it.
Oh well.
Only a week to New Years.
Monday, December 23, 2002
One hand washes the other
or,
Yeah, we all knew this was coming...
Who is your Ideal Lord of the Rings (male) Mate?
brought to you by Quizilla
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla
Coincidentally, MS magazine has Orlando Bloom on its cover without the ears and hair.
He has black curly hair, and according to the headline "has an accent and EVEN recites poetry."
If you love me, you will give him to me for Christmas.*
Mr Bloom is number four on Jay's Christmas List
or,
Yeah, we all knew this was coming...
Who is your Ideal Lord of the Rings (male) Mate?
brought to you by Quizilla
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla
Coincidentally, MS magazine has Orlando Bloom on its cover without the ears and hair.
He has black curly hair, and according to the headline "has an accent and EVEN recites poetry."
If you love me, you will give him to me for Christmas.*
Mr Bloom is number four on Jay's Christmas List
Friday, December 20, 2002
The Other* speaks...
I had a really interesting conversation the other night about straight people playing gays and vice versa. I made a comparison to it being a bit like blackface. That didn't go over too well, but I still think the analogy holds. In both, the actual characteristics of the other are eschewed for amusing exaggerations. Ree's reply was that exaggeration was an effective comedic tool. She's quite right of course.
My rebuttal was that having straight people play gays suggests two things:
1) They couldn't find any actual gay actors for the portrayal.
(Pfft)
2) The actuality of being gay -- having real gay characters -- isn't as important/interesting as the gross exagerrations. This is essentially bigoted. I particularly find this idea offensive because it's at the top of a slipperly slope that leads to Nowhere Fun, like the idea that the other aren't real people.
I think everyone in #sinister went along with this much. Well, most everybody.
Then we got into the discussion about the opposite, gays playing straights. I think this is completely different, because of the majority/minority issues. I mean, not that it doesn't happen. It's just not comedy when it does.
It's not ipso facto demeaning when it happens. I think, you don't have to do anything special to play a straight character, but you have to do something to be a gay character. Straight is the norm.
We wound up talking about performance technique, a fiddly thing at best, how being a gay character is bad acting but a character who is gay is good acting. I think I was trying to communicate that in Stanislavski's techhique, you're trying to reproduce an entire pyschology, and that (only is rare cases) is that pyschology dominated by one single trait. I'm not sure that came across.
(The problem with this, of course, is that even Stanislavski's technique is defined by some convention. But then again, all art period is.)
Anyway, who would have thought that Will and Grace would have given rise to such a interesting conversation?
I was going to go see The Two Towers last night, but Carl was sick and I was broke. It's just as well, as I haven't finished the book.
For that matter, I'm also reading Bored of the Rings, the Harvard Lampoon parody of Lord of the Rings (it's funny) and about 150 pages into Queen of the Damned. And at work, I'm reading through MacBeth on my breaks.
I didn't mention it, as I haven't mentioned my date last week at all, but I found a great indie book store called the Regulator on Ninth Street in Durham. I almost bought the Miserable Mill, my next Lemony Snicket book, there.
By the way Laura, a new Indie book store opened in Chapel Hill last week, Chapel Hill Books. It's a member of Book Sense. I checked tonight. Update your map accordingly.
I've also seen Star Trek: Nemesis and Die Another Day. Reviews will likely follow tomorrow, especially if Carl is too sick to go out. (Preview: Star Trek was okay, okay for a ST film, I suppose. The Bond flick was horrible. Too many needless references to the series' past, big clunky ones, and the fencing was icky.)
My friend Phil, the world traveller, is going to Kyrgyzistan. He may get me a hat. I'll have to put out for it, but THAT'S OKAY, as I have lusted in my heart for such a hat for several months.
Word of the day: Furlong -- 660 feet, 220 yards, 1/8 of a mile. From the word for the length if a furrow, or the length of a plowed field. Very useful for those reading Lordof the Rings, as it is mentioned all the time.
Dr Who of the Day: The Keeper of Traken, part 1. I quite liked the design for this story, all swirly medieval, and use of rich, dark colour and farics like velvets and velours. It's just inside the John Nathan-Turner re-thinking of the series, when uniforms replace costumes. Design, though, is great and quite a change from the panto-like atmosphere of the late seventies (This is the 1980 series). It's a studio-bound piece, so they garden scenes are a little disappointing.
The story is interesting enough. Not great but okay: amusing if not enthralling. Denis Carey is in it, though, quite good as the decrepit eponymous Keeper, and Anthony Ainley's Tremas is really warm and sparkling and likeable. Tom Baker is (of course) quite good as well, with his insanity a little more restrained (I like that, discipline is good for the actor) and reasonable.
It's clear that an era is over, though, and probably the show's greatest one.
To his credit J N-T made the show his own in a trice.
Yeah, my summing up comment is this, as it slides into Peter Davison era: "Not great, but okay."
Reason Laura Llew rocks: Commando raids for chruch pews. Man, if the Major did that, I'd be ALL ABOUT some church.
*Check out the link here from Ms Minx' page. That explain all.
I had a really interesting conversation the other night about straight people playing gays and vice versa. I made a comparison to it being a bit like blackface. That didn't go over too well, but I still think the analogy holds. In both, the actual characteristics of the other are eschewed for amusing exaggerations. Ree's reply was that exaggeration was an effective comedic tool. She's quite right of course.
My rebuttal was that having straight people play gays suggests two things:
1) They couldn't find any actual gay actors for the portrayal.
(Pfft)
2) The actuality of being gay -- having real gay characters -- isn't as important/interesting as the gross exagerrations. This is essentially bigoted. I particularly find this idea offensive because it's at the top of a slipperly slope that leads to Nowhere Fun, like the idea that the other aren't real people.
I think everyone in #sinister went along with this much. Well, most everybody.
Then we got into the discussion about the opposite, gays playing straights. I think this is completely different, because of the majority/minority issues. I mean, not that it doesn't happen. It's just not comedy when it does.
It's not ipso facto demeaning when it happens. I think, you don't have to do anything special to play a straight character, but you have to do something to be a gay character. Straight is the norm.
We wound up talking about performance technique, a fiddly thing at best, how being a gay character is bad acting but a character who is gay is good acting. I think I was trying to communicate that in Stanislavski's techhique, you're trying to reproduce an entire pyschology, and that (only is rare cases) is that pyschology dominated by one single trait. I'm not sure that came across.
(The problem with this, of course, is that even Stanislavski's technique is defined by some convention. But then again, all art period is.)
Anyway, who would have thought that Will and Grace would have given rise to such a interesting conversation?
I was going to go see The Two Towers last night, but Carl was sick and I was broke. It's just as well, as I haven't finished the book.
For that matter, I'm also reading Bored of the Rings, the Harvard Lampoon parody of Lord of the Rings (it's funny) and about 150 pages into Queen of the Damned. And at work, I'm reading through MacBeth on my breaks.
I didn't mention it, as I haven't mentioned my date last week at all, but I found a great indie book store called the Regulator on Ninth Street in Durham. I almost bought the Miserable Mill, my next Lemony Snicket book, there.
By the way Laura, a new Indie book store opened in Chapel Hill last week, Chapel Hill Books. It's a member of Book Sense. I checked tonight. Update your map accordingly.
I've also seen Star Trek: Nemesis and Die Another Day. Reviews will likely follow tomorrow, especially if Carl is too sick to go out. (Preview: Star Trek was okay, okay for a ST film, I suppose. The Bond flick was horrible. Too many needless references to the series' past, big clunky ones, and the fencing was icky.)
My friend Phil, the world traveller, is going to Kyrgyzistan. He may get me a hat. I'll have to put out for it, but THAT'S OKAY, as I have lusted in my heart for such a hat for several months.
Word of the day: Furlong -- 660 feet, 220 yards, 1/8 of a mile. From the word for the length if a furrow, or the length of a plowed field. Very useful for those reading Lordof the Rings, as it is mentioned all the time.
Dr Who of the Day: The Keeper of Traken, part 1. I quite liked the design for this story, all swirly medieval, and use of rich, dark colour and farics like velvets and velours. It's just inside the John Nathan-Turner re-thinking of the series, when uniforms replace costumes. Design, though, is great and quite a change from the panto-like atmosphere of the late seventies (This is the 1980 series). It's a studio-bound piece, so they garden scenes are a little disappointing.
The story is interesting enough. Not great but okay: amusing if not enthralling. Denis Carey is in it, though, quite good as the decrepit eponymous Keeper, and Anthony Ainley's Tremas is really warm and sparkling and likeable. Tom Baker is (of course) quite good as well, with his insanity a little more restrained (I like that, discipline is good for the actor) and reasonable.
It's clear that an era is over, though, and probably the show's greatest one.
To his credit J N-T made the show his own in a trice.
Yeah, my summing up comment is this, as it slides into Peter Davison era: "Not great, but okay."
Reason Laura Llew rocks: Commando raids for chruch pews. Man, if the Major did that, I'd be ALL ABOUT some church.
*Check out the link here from Ms Minx' page. That explain all.
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
Plus Quam Perfectum
Today was dull. I went to work.*
Yesterday was better. I paid ALL my bills, which involved some running around.
The day before I had seen my Dr Who pimp** and went to his store. Of course, they didn't have this month's issue of Doctor Who Magazine. I did go to the Book Shop on Franklin Street. Foolishly, I bought a 1772 copy of the Work of George Farquhar, in relatively poor condition, for $13 as well as an old Dr Who novel I didn't have, The Seeds of Doom. Then I went and bought Tigermilk on vinyl.
This was my third Belle and Sebastian on vinyl this weekend. (See below, as well.)
Ms Laura Llew got me Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant on vinyl.
*Swoons and swoons*
And an Edward Hopper calendar. I was so impressed. And thankful.
I Love Laura.
Turns out she was also responsible for more gift-age.
I got a Sinister gift from ******, this boy I have a small crush on. The package was great: a mix tape, a novel (with the label inside "Headmaster's Award for French, 2001") called Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, and little head beats.
But it was the letter that got me all swoon-y. Handwritten. With a fountian pen.
Ahh. Such a lovely script.
"I come as the magi, all rolled into one..."
Actually, in my perambulations yester, I noticed many band posters. I noticed EVERY boy I like*** is in a band. Neil the Recordshop Boy, the Other Recordshop Boy, Perfect Man, Schoolkids Records Boy...
In any other town, this would mean I like Boys in Bands.
Not here: it just means I'm the only boy in town not in a band.
"Wanted: Band Needing Lead Singer. Influences: Belle and Sebastian, Hank Williams Sr, Duncan Sheik, Morrissey, Ben Folds. Can play piano and guitar as well. Also a songwriter. Call 928 - 0452."
*Though I did have another hella nosebleed. I was woozey afterwards I lost so much blood. This can't be good: I would see a doctor if I could afford one.
**The clerk at a store called The Second Foundation, which is pretty much the place you'd imagine. In the past three or so years, I've bought out every single Dr Who item they had I didn't already own and get my DWM fix there each month.
***Except Carl, though God knows, he probably is in one, too.
Today was dull. I went to work.*
Yesterday was better. I paid ALL my bills, which involved some running around.
The day before I had seen my Dr Who pimp** and went to his store. Of course, they didn't have this month's issue of Doctor Who Magazine. I did go to the Book Shop on Franklin Street. Foolishly, I bought a 1772 copy of the Work of George Farquhar, in relatively poor condition, for $13 as well as an old Dr Who novel I didn't have, The Seeds of Doom. Then I went and bought Tigermilk on vinyl.
This was my third Belle and Sebastian on vinyl this weekend. (See below, as well.)
Ms Laura Llew got me Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant on vinyl.
*Swoons and swoons*
And an Edward Hopper calendar. I was so impressed. And thankful.
I Love Laura.
Turns out she was also responsible for more gift-age.
I got a Sinister gift from ******, this boy I have a small crush on. The package was great: a mix tape, a novel (with the label inside "Headmaster's Award for French, 2001") called Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, and little head beats.
But it was the letter that got me all swoon-y. Handwritten. With a fountian pen.
Ahh. Such a lovely script.
"I come as the magi, all rolled into one..."
Actually, in my perambulations yester, I noticed many band posters. I noticed EVERY boy I like*** is in a band. Neil the Recordshop Boy, the Other Recordshop Boy, Perfect Man, Schoolkids Records Boy...
In any other town, this would mean I like Boys in Bands.
Not here: it just means I'm the only boy in town not in a band.
"Wanted: Band Needing Lead Singer. Influences: Belle and Sebastian, Hank Williams Sr, Duncan Sheik, Morrissey, Ben Folds. Can play piano and guitar as well. Also a songwriter. Call 928 - 0452."
*Though I did have another hella nosebleed. I was woozey afterwards I lost so much blood. This can't be good: I would see a doctor if I could afford one.
**The clerk at a store called The Second Foundation, which is pretty much the place you'd imagine. In the past three or so years, I've bought out every single Dr Who item they had I didn't already own and get my DWM fix there each month.
***Except Carl, though God knows, he probably is in one, too.
Saturday, December 14, 2002
My Life is Now Complete
So yes, I had a very successful 12-hour date with what I am increasingly considering my boy.
Yeah, I got paid.
Yeah, I got to eat for the first time in two days.
Yeah, I saw the new Star Trek movie.
Yeah, I played a fabulous Looper/Gentle Waves/Amphetameanies/Snow Patrol/Mum/Belle and Sebastian set on a prime time slot.
FUCK ALL THAT.
I bought If You're Feeling Sinister ON VINYL!!!!
*groans orgamically*
I may never, ever go anywhere or do anything ever again.
Shit: Judy and the Dream of Horses is on now...
Ahhhhh........
So yes, I had a very successful 12-hour date with what I am increasingly considering my boy.
Yeah, I got paid.
Yeah, I got to eat for the first time in two days.
Yeah, I saw the new Star Trek movie.
Yeah, I played a fabulous Looper/Gentle Waves/Amphetameanies/Snow Patrol/Mum/Belle and Sebastian set on a prime time slot.
FUCK ALL THAT.
I bought If You're Feeling Sinister ON VINYL!!!!
*groans orgamically*
I may never, ever go anywhere or do anything ever again.
Shit: Judy and the Dream of Horses is on now...
Ahhhhh........
Tuesday, December 10, 2002
I grow old... I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
I simply should not have gotten out of bed today.
The best thing that happened to me actually happened yesterday. I heard a version of a ballad about Water Raleigh that appears in the Lost Colony, but all Blue-grassy.
"If I sink her in the lone and the lonesome sea, if I sink her in the lonesome low..."
Other than that, all I can say is I've gotten double karma for lambasting somebody yesterday.
(Even though most of it fell after I changed the damn post.)
And to top it all off...
(gods, a pause here effect is not unwarranted)
I've gone and made Llew mad at me.
Christ, what I fuck-up I am. I know: my parents always gently remind me of that, but usually I can come up with a defense against it. Not today. Not now.
I'm poor, dumb and alone. And I suspect/know I deserve it.
I can hear my parents guffawing in their own endearing manner, letting "See... We were right about that, as well" fall out between gales of hooting.
Now here's the really funny part: I can't even afford a bottle of malt liquor to drink myself into/out of a humor.
"I have grown old before my time,
If ever young I were.
Ambition was a grievous sin,
and grievous was my wage.
My hope is scattered in the wind
And yet it drives me on."
There's an overpass near my house that I sometimes walk over. I always wonder what it'd be like to jump off.
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
I simply should not have gotten out of bed today.
The best thing that happened to me actually happened yesterday. I heard a version of a ballad about Water Raleigh that appears in the Lost Colony, but all Blue-grassy.
"If I sink her in the lone and the lonesome sea, if I sink her in the lonesome low..."
Other than that, all I can say is I've gotten double karma for lambasting somebody yesterday.
(Even though most of it fell after I changed the damn post.)
And to top it all off...
(gods, a pause here effect is not unwarranted)
I've gone and made Llew mad at me.
Christ, what I fuck-up I am. I know: my parents always gently remind me of that, but usually I can come up with a defense against it. Not today. Not now.
I'm poor, dumb and alone. And I suspect/know I deserve it.
I can hear my parents guffawing in their own endearing manner, letting "See... We were right about that, as well" fall out between gales of hooting.
Now here's the really funny part: I can't even afford a bottle of malt liquor to drink myself into/out of a humor.
"I have grown old before my time,
If ever young I were.
Ambition was a grievous sin,
and grievous was my wage.
My hope is scattered in the wind
And yet it drives me on."
There's an overpass near my house that I sometimes walk over. I always wonder what it'd be like to jump off.
Monday, December 09, 2002
Fuck TIVO
My. That came out 100% nastier than I expected. At least I never mentioned him by name.
Being a Gemini, I expect by tomorrow I'll have either completely forgotten about this or completely forgiven him and resume raving to others about how utterly witty and fab he is and how lucky to have such a hot boy. Mercurial nature/new shiny metal objects and all.
See. Gone already.
I Wish She Were Mine
Conversation today with Charlotte, the cute hippy who runs the cash register at work:
Charlotte: "Yeah, there were lots of naked people there [a Phish concert]. And they were attractive. No money for food, you know.
Me: "Well, they wouldn't have, would they, what with shrooms and pot and Strawberry wine to buy...":
Charlotte: "What about the last concert you went to?"
Me: "Which one? Trembling Blue Stars, Mum, Lambchop, Portastatic, Jett Rink, Cold Sides or Belle and Sebastian?"
Charlotte: "Oh."
Me: "Yeah, the hipsters, they don't go in for the nudity."
Charlotte: "Yeah. When you're naked, you don't look at the shoes, really."
Me: giggles uncontrollably for the next hour
Who says the outsiders don't understand us?
Dr Who of the Day: Arc of Infinity
The bestest comment ever about this episode, inexplicably set in Amsterdam: "Dr Who is the only person ever to run 20 minutes through downtown Amsterdam without passing a retail outlet for sex, drugs or porn."
It's also the only episode that's poof-tastic. After getting kicked out of a hostel (?!), fey little Stewart gets hunky Colin to bed down with him in a crypt. AND Colin is wearing a Fun Boy 3 t-shirt and neon pink socks.
Unfortunately, an anti-matter chicken comes in and beams Colin away
Perhaps it's just as well Carl doesn't put out...
On an unrelated note, the guest star for this episode is Michael Gough, as in Alfred, the guy who cleans up after Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson in the Batman movies.
Word of the Day: Ataraxia -- calmess of mind. Amusingly, almost the opposite of ataxia.
*No, not local public house. Chatroom, hence the inefficacy of snubbage.
**I actually don't remember how tall he is. Everything else is bang on, though.
***As if this matters. No doubt even as I sleep, I shall receive vengeful comments/tags/emails.
My. That came out 100% nastier than I expected. At least I never mentioned him by name.
Being a Gemini, I expect by tomorrow I'll have either completely forgotten about this or completely forgiven him and resume raving to others about how utterly witty and fab he is and how lucky to have such a hot boy. Mercurial nature/new shiny metal objects and all.
See. Gone already.
I Wish She Were Mine
Conversation today with Charlotte, the cute hippy who runs the cash register at work:
Charlotte: "Yeah, there were lots of naked people there [a Phish concert]. And they were attractive. No money for food, you know.
Me: "Well, they wouldn't have, would they, what with shrooms and pot and Strawberry wine to buy...":
Charlotte: "What about the last concert you went to?"
Me: "Which one? Trembling Blue Stars, Mum, Lambchop, Portastatic, Jett Rink, Cold Sides or Belle and Sebastian?"
Charlotte: "Oh."
Me: "Yeah, the hipsters, they don't go in for the nudity."
Charlotte: "Yeah. When you're naked, you don't look at the shoes, really."
Me: giggles uncontrollably for the next hour
Who says the outsiders don't understand us?
Dr Who of the Day: Arc of Infinity
The bestest comment ever about this episode, inexplicably set in Amsterdam: "Dr Who is the only person ever to run 20 minutes through downtown Amsterdam without passing a retail outlet for sex, drugs or porn."
It's also the only episode that's poof-tastic. After getting kicked out of a hostel (?!), fey little Stewart gets hunky Colin to bed down with him in a crypt. AND Colin is wearing a Fun Boy 3 t-shirt and neon pink socks.
Unfortunately, an anti-matter chicken comes in and beams Colin away
Perhaps it's just as well Carl doesn't put out...
On an unrelated note, the guest star for this episode is Michael Gough, as in Alfred, the guy who cleans up after Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson in the Batman movies.
Word of the Day: Ataraxia -- calmess of mind. Amusingly, almost the opposite of ataxia.
*No, not local public house. Chatroom, hence the inefficacy of snubbage.
**I actually don't remember how tall he is. Everything else is bang on, though.
***As if this matters. No doubt even as I sleep, I shall receive vengeful comments/tags/emails.
Sunday, December 08, 2002
Doesn't the site look lovely?
Ms Llew is the one to thank. She did a marvelous job, didn't she?
Everyone, let's make cookies and send them on to her!
(I would if I could, Laura...)
Ho hum, ho hum.
Work was still quite busy. Much hot chocolate was drunk.
Dr Who of the day: Terminus, Parts 3 and 4.
Olvir's still cute, his girl companion is still Scary 80s Spice. Large hunks of the story remain unexplained. What is the Garm and why is he on Terminus. Why are the Vanir slaves to the company? Why don't the Lazars get hydromel? And just where do they go?
Nyssa leaves the TARDIS. Tegan, alas, does not.
Oh... amusing, if you squint, I suppose, like most of the Fifth Doctor's era.
I haven't seen BWWBR since before Thanksgiving. He may be dead. As long as I get my rent, I don't really care. Theoretically, it worked well last night, as I did, in fact, bring a boy home. In practice, as we did sod all, it was merely an academic point.
My goal: to make Boy spent some gruellingly agonizing time with a boy of mine alone. Small talk, indeed. I always want to say, as the tart of the week drunkenly reels about my bookcases:
"So tell me, just how drunk do you have to be not to be able to fuck? I mean, I suppose as a Total Whore you can do it unconcious, but where's the fun? Oh yes, you haven't HAD Matt yet! *chuckles* Well, you'll soon find out."
Ms Llew is the one to thank. She did a marvelous job, didn't she?
Everyone, let's make cookies and send them on to her!
(I would if I could, Laura...)
Ho hum, ho hum.
Work was still quite busy. Much hot chocolate was drunk.
Dr Who of the day: Terminus, Parts 3 and 4.
Olvir's still cute, his girl companion is still Scary 80s Spice. Large hunks of the story remain unexplained. What is the Garm and why is he on Terminus. Why are the Vanir slaves to the company? Why don't the Lazars get hydromel? And just where do they go?
Nyssa leaves the TARDIS. Tegan, alas, does not.
Oh... amusing, if you squint, I suppose, like most of the Fifth Doctor's era.
I haven't seen BWWBR since before Thanksgiving. He may be dead. As long as I get my rent, I don't really care. Theoretically, it worked well last night, as I did, in fact, bring a boy home. In practice, as we did sod all, it was merely an academic point.
My goal: to make Boy spent some gruellingly agonizing time with a boy of mine alone. Small talk, indeed. I always want to say, as the tart of the week drunkenly reels about my bookcases:
"So tell me, just how drunk do you have to be not to be able to fuck? I mean, I suppose as a Total Whore you can do it unconcious, but where's the fun? Oh yes, you haven't HAD Matt yet! *chuckles* Well, you'll soon find out."
Saturday, December 07, 2002
So, tonight was date night. It went well, I think.
Well, well-ish.
All I can say: KISS ME!
I mean, really: I can't put out till you make a move!*
Work was hellish. We were one of perhaps three places open in Chapel Hill and people were phreaking out. "Is there caffiene in my water?" some lady asked. Ickle.
At least the power came back on... after two days and two nights. I have wax all over the place now from the candles. It was SO cold: 18 degrees last night, 15 the night before. There are close to 60,000 people without power. Even in this complex, only a few building have power: out across the parking lot, it's dark.
(There was a severe ice storm Wednesday night... over an inch of ice on top of maybe two inches of snow. There are states of emergency in Durham and Chapel Hill, and EVERYTHING is closed. There's even a curfew.)
I spent last night reading The Two Towers by candelight. Charming. (I'm still in the first book -- Book III of LotR.)
I missed Carl last night -- we were to meet and didn't -- and could only find a crackmart for food: a biggie-sized Hershey's Nutrageous, two Ding-Dongs, a bag of Pork Rinds and a 6 Pack of Natty Light. This was the entire day's meal, as well. I had to beat back the desire to fuck a goat and watch NASCAR.
Dr Who of the Day: Terminus, parts 1 and 2. Oh... Olvir is a cutie. And the TARDIS break-up is freaky. And the Lazars are odd (first sign of the disease: you shed your clothes for nasty rags). But dig those 80s spacesuits: capes and bubble helmets. *wags eyebrows* The Future Is Now, baby, and it looks good.
I'm making up my mind about the Garm and the Vanir, and how the whole Norse overlay works.
Word of the day: Ataxia -- a loss of co-ordination.
Reason Laura Llew rocks: Check the comments feauture!! And comment! If I'm a good boy, there could be anew header, as well!
In completely unrelated new, I have picked out Ms Llew's Christmas present (he he he!!).
It's plus que fab!
Well, well-ish.
All I can say: KISS ME!
I mean, really: I can't put out till you make a move!*
Work was hellish. We were one of perhaps three places open in Chapel Hill and people were phreaking out. "Is there caffiene in my water?" some lady asked. Ickle.
At least the power came back on... after two days and two nights. I have wax all over the place now from the candles. It was SO cold: 18 degrees last night, 15 the night before. There are close to 60,000 people without power. Even in this complex, only a few building have power: out across the parking lot, it's dark.
(There was a severe ice storm Wednesday night... over an inch of ice on top of maybe two inches of snow. There are states of emergency in Durham and Chapel Hill, and EVERYTHING is closed. There's even a curfew.)
I spent last night reading The Two Towers by candelight. Charming. (I'm still in the first book -- Book III of LotR.)
I missed Carl last night -- we were to meet and didn't -- and could only find a crackmart for food: a biggie-sized Hershey's Nutrageous, two Ding-Dongs, a bag of Pork Rinds and a 6 Pack of Natty Light. This was the entire day's meal, as well. I had to beat back the desire to fuck a goat and watch NASCAR.
Dr Who of the Day: Terminus, parts 1 and 2. Oh... Olvir is a cutie. And the TARDIS break-up is freaky. And the Lazars are odd (first sign of the disease: you shed your clothes for nasty rags). But dig those 80s spacesuits: capes and bubble helmets. *wags eyebrows* The Future Is Now, baby, and it looks good.
I'm making up my mind about the Garm and the Vanir, and how the whole Norse overlay works.
Word of the day: Ataxia -- a loss of co-ordination.
Reason Laura Llew rocks: Check the comments feauture!! And comment! If I'm a good boy, there could be anew header, as well!
In completely unrelated new, I have picked out Ms Llew's Christmas present (he he he!!).
It's plus que fab!
Thursday, December 05, 2002
If I never, ever blog ever again, the reason's simple:
I've run off to live with Laura after looking at these pictures: here.
Blah, blah snow.
Blah, blah power may go out as I sleep.
Blah, blah little red car in hideous crash after sliding on ice after three a. m. decision to run to Pissgah Forest.
At least I'd die with a smile on my face.
I've run off to live with Laura after looking at these pictures: here.
Blah, blah snow.
Blah, blah power may go out as I sleep.
Blah, blah little red car in hideous crash after sliding on ice after three a. m. decision to run to Pissgah Forest.
At least I'd die with a smile on my face.
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
So, yeah. I've been all slack of late.
As promised, the major points of late.
Last Saturday was the WXDU/Radio Free Records Benefit at the Duke Coffeehouse. It was a fund-raiser for my radio station and for this ace recordstore that was broken into and needs to recover funds. I was supposed to meet Aruni there, but she didn't feel well and wisely stayed at home.
I got... fucked up... beforehand (BWWBR gave me festivity to pay for late bills. Against my normal credo, but it *was* a special event.)
Christina, IGP, was there moments after I arrived. I talked to her for a goodly while, when I saw Neil, the Recordshop Boy. Turns out he's in this band called the Cold Sides (I think). This occupied my attention for a great while. Then I bought a WXDU shirt.
Then Viva's band, Jett Rink, went on. Scary, but fun. He got covered in Gold Bond Medicated Powder.
I volunteered to help clean up after, so I picked up any number of beer cans/bottles. I talked to Viva after and despite having met AT LEAST six times, he had no idea who he was. The last time was the previous Thursday (two nights before) when I literally fell over his feet at the station.
Pfft.
I was out till 4 that night.
I saw so many people I hadn't seen in months and felt, for the first time in months, like a real member of the Indie Community.
Neil even recognized me after the show and said hello.
Of course, I just stared at my feet and mumbled.
I mean, Hello! He can't just walk up and talk to me like that!
The day before Thanksgiving, I saw my friend Jamie at work. I'd not seen her since... May, I think, when she moved to Nantucket for the summer. She's back now. I've talked to her twice, and I anticipate in the near future getting drunk with her at Henry's and stumbling down Franklin Street, singing Belle and Sebastian.
This is a big deal, seeing Jamie, and it absolutely made my day. She's quite lovely, folks.
When I went home the next day for the holiday, one of my tires blew out. Like, blam! And Swerve! I BARELY made it to an exit off the Interstate, which luckily had a filling station. Some man took pity on me and helped me put on the spare. When I got to my Grandmother's house, no food was left.
I got to spend the next hour cruising round town trying to find a new tire. No joy, of course. But I did get a stereo version of "What were you thinking? Why did you let your tires get so worn? You're a danger on the road! Are you daft, driving like that?"
Then they saw I needed an annual safety inspection (since 1 Nov., actually) and an oil change. Bitching only intensified.
I left early, so as to make my radio show. My show went from 3 am to NINE FUCKING AM, since the other two djs (5 am and 7 am) Japped out on me. I did play some great stuff, though, the Maybellines (new BiG Deal), Jackie O Pillbox, El Gato. I also played a massive local music set, with Cold Sides (he he). Mayflies USA, and this great new local comp called Patchwork.
I had to work an eight hour shift that Friday at 11 am, which was hella fun.
But the weekend made up for it.
I went to fiddle with my Nerve ad. I added the picture of me Laura took went I visited her. When I was done, I "Matched" myself, and for the first time got a match within, like, 20 miles.
I sent him a little message, and he wrote back. Yeah, folks, I was stunned as well.
This was on Saturday, I think, and then on Sunday night we met. We went to Henry's.
It was SO quiet there it was bizarre. Quite nice, though, for our purposes. We talked for a couple of hours, till the bartender turned on the lights to toss all five people out.
He had never been to Henry's before (I know, I was shocked as well... I mean, I was there by my first week in Chapel Hill, and this was before it was THE cool place). Apparently, he doesn't go out much, which I have a lot of respect for.*
He was SO tall -- 6' 3" and was kinda quite cute (he had sehr cute glasses, Llew). And very funny in a very not-predispossessing way. You can see his profile at Nerve.com under "Ataxia." He works at Weaver Street Market, the major competitor to where I work and right next door to Elmo's, oddly enough. And he works with the girls upstairs. He's an English major who wants to be a writer.
Prefers cats to dogs, stays up late, doesn't watch TV, like British Sitcoms.
Has never heard of Belle and Sebastian!! But then again, at some point, none of had. (In 1998...)
He seems to me very... pre-Indie, I think would be the term. Like, not in the scene but completely primed for it and would so fall for it. Interpol plays her next week, and I'd love to take him, but man, Interpol, if you don't know the crowd and the sound, could be freaky. I mean, Viva will be there, for god's sake. And he scares me at times...
He says that he doesn't kow-tow (points for vocab, there) to gay sub-culture. This I approve most strongly of. He doesn't go for the boy of the week club (*wipes brow in relief*). He told me that he only starts serious relationships with friends, with the intention of a regardless of romantic relationship, always remaining friends.
Yes, I know, terribly, terribly naive. But I like the idea of someone who can think that.
I should mention that the only real thing I thought twice about was the fact that he's 21. I mean, that doesn't seem so young, but well...
I still kinda like him.
I think we're going out again, but we've yet to determine where or when.
As promised, the major points of late.
Last Saturday was the WXDU/Radio Free Records Benefit at the Duke Coffeehouse. It was a fund-raiser for my radio station and for this ace recordstore that was broken into and needs to recover funds. I was supposed to meet Aruni there, but she didn't feel well and wisely stayed at home.
I got... fucked up... beforehand (BWWBR gave me festivity to pay for late bills. Against my normal credo, but it *was* a special event.)
Christina, IGP, was there moments after I arrived. I talked to her for a goodly while, when I saw Neil, the Recordshop Boy. Turns out he's in this band called the Cold Sides (I think). This occupied my attention for a great while. Then I bought a WXDU shirt.
Then Viva's band, Jett Rink, went on. Scary, but fun. He got covered in Gold Bond Medicated Powder.
I volunteered to help clean up after, so I picked up any number of beer cans/bottles. I talked to Viva after and despite having met AT LEAST six times, he had no idea who he was. The last time was the previous Thursday (two nights before) when I literally fell over his feet at the station.
Pfft.
I was out till 4 that night.
I saw so many people I hadn't seen in months and felt, for the first time in months, like a real member of the Indie Community.
Neil even recognized me after the show and said hello.
Of course, I just stared at my feet and mumbled.
I mean, Hello! He can't just walk up and talk to me like that!
The day before Thanksgiving, I saw my friend Jamie at work. I'd not seen her since... May, I think, when she moved to Nantucket for the summer. She's back now. I've talked to her twice, and I anticipate in the near future getting drunk with her at Henry's and stumbling down Franklin Street, singing Belle and Sebastian.
This is a big deal, seeing Jamie, and it absolutely made my day. She's quite lovely, folks.
When I went home the next day for the holiday, one of my tires blew out. Like, blam! And Swerve! I BARELY made it to an exit off the Interstate, which luckily had a filling station. Some man took pity on me and helped me put on the spare. When I got to my Grandmother's house, no food was left.
I got to spend the next hour cruising round town trying to find a new tire. No joy, of course. But I did get a stereo version of "What were you thinking? Why did you let your tires get so worn? You're a danger on the road! Are you daft, driving like that?"
Then they saw I needed an annual safety inspection (since 1 Nov., actually) and an oil change. Bitching only intensified.
I left early, so as to make my radio show. My show went from 3 am to NINE FUCKING AM, since the other two djs (5 am and 7 am) Japped out on me. I did play some great stuff, though, the Maybellines (new BiG Deal), Jackie O Pillbox, El Gato. I also played a massive local music set, with Cold Sides (he he). Mayflies USA, and this great new local comp called Patchwork.
I had to work an eight hour shift that Friday at 11 am, which was hella fun.
But the weekend made up for it.
I went to fiddle with my Nerve ad. I added the picture of me Laura took went I visited her. When I was done, I "Matched" myself, and for the first time got a match within, like, 20 miles.
I sent him a little message, and he wrote back. Yeah, folks, I was stunned as well.
This was on Saturday, I think, and then on Sunday night we met. We went to Henry's.
It was SO quiet there it was bizarre. Quite nice, though, for our purposes. We talked for a couple of hours, till the bartender turned on the lights to toss all five people out.
He had never been to Henry's before (I know, I was shocked as well... I mean, I was there by my first week in Chapel Hill, and this was before it was THE cool place). Apparently, he doesn't go out much, which I have a lot of respect for.*
He was SO tall -- 6' 3" and was kinda quite cute (he had sehr cute glasses, Llew). And very funny in a very not-predispossessing way. You can see his profile at Nerve.com under "Ataxia." He works at Weaver Street Market, the major competitor to where I work and right next door to Elmo's, oddly enough. And he works with the girls upstairs. He's an English major who wants to be a writer.
Prefers cats to dogs, stays up late, doesn't watch TV, like British Sitcoms.
Has never heard of Belle and Sebastian!! But then again, at some point, none of had. (In 1998...)
He seems to me very... pre-Indie, I think would be the term. Like, not in the scene but completely primed for it and would so fall for it. Interpol plays her next week, and I'd love to take him, but man, Interpol, if you don't know the crowd and the sound, could be freaky. I mean, Viva will be there, for god's sake. And he scares me at times...
He says that he doesn't kow-tow (points for vocab, there) to gay sub-culture. This I approve most strongly of. He doesn't go for the boy of the week club (*wipes brow in relief*). He told me that he only starts serious relationships with friends, with the intention of a regardless of romantic relationship, always remaining friends.
Yes, I know, terribly, terribly naive. But I like the idea of someone who can think that.
I should mention that the only real thing I thought twice about was the fact that he's 21. I mean, that doesn't seem so young, but well...
I still kinda like him.
I think we're going out again, but we've yet to determine where or when.
Sunday, December 01, 2002
I'm sorry about not blogging lately.
This past week has been busy what with the Hol and all.
Many event have transpired, like the WXDU Benefit (how not to be Jay at a function), seeing Jamie, exploding tires for beginners, Nerve-ous boys and mammoth Radio shows.
I'll spill the beans tomorrow, as I'm recovering from a parental visit.
This past week has been busy what with the Hol and all.
Many event have transpired, like the WXDU Benefit (how not to be Jay at a function), seeing Jamie, exploding tires for beginners, Nerve-ous boys and mammoth Radio shows.
I'll spill the beans tomorrow, as I'm recovering from a parental visit.
Monday, November 25, 2002
The Hairdresser, the Zombies and the Talking Squirrel
Okay, so this dream was *unusual* even for me.
I was at house I used to live in. It had a chain link fence around the backyard, and I was doing gardening work beside it. A friend of mine who teaches pilates was next door gardening on the far side of her yard, along with Angus, her bald, gay, Scottish hairdresser. He says hello, and I pretend not to hear hoping he won't come over. He does, though.
He comments on the up-keep of the front yard. I demure, telling him it's all the work of the zombies I control. I try to call them over, but they've all gone away.
There's a buzzy little voice in one of the old pin oak trees that explains that to us. I tell Angus that is my talking squirrel, who has no name, but whom I'm thinking of calling Cindy.
Rather thankfully, this is the time when I woke up.
I'm scared to know what it means.
Okay, so this dream was *unusual* even for me.
I was at house I used to live in. It had a chain link fence around the backyard, and I was doing gardening work beside it. A friend of mine who teaches pilates was next door gardening on the far side of her yard, along with Angus, her bald, gay, Scottish hairdresser. He says hello, and I pretend not to hear hoping he won't come over. He does, though.
He comments on the up-keep of the front yard. I demure, telling him it's all the work of the zombies I control. I try to call them over, but they've all gone away.
There's a buzzy little voice in one of the old pin oak trees that explains that to us. I tell Angus that is my talking squirrel, who has no name, but whom I'm thinking of calling Cindy.
Rather thankfully, this is the time when I woke up.
I'm scared to know what it means.
Sunday, November 24, 2002
Brief note while I DIE of hysterical laughter
Unheralded by me -- which is a shame, really, as it really is my duty to render prayer, praise and thanksgiving unto Llew at all times and places* -- the Links at the remote bottom of this page (where nobody, I expect, goes) have been moved up to the side where they are officially visible. This was done via the expertise of Miss Laura (not Ms).
A few links were also added, like the Sinister one (which may not work) and one for Maddie Minx.
Now, as I have been tarting around #sinister in many senses of the word, I haven't been nosing around other blogs as much. But I mosied over to Maddie's just now to visit and saw she had reciprocated linkage.
Now -- at last -- the funny bit.
All the people there get interesting titles (i. e.: the TEMPTRESS or the HISTORIAN or the ARCHAEOLOGIST).
Me: I'm the OTHER**.
Ha, ha, ha!
It's so right, it's hysterical.
*This is a joke off of Luther's Explanation of the First Commandment, as written in his Small Catechism, memorized by me in 1988 or 1989, and apparently never replaced by anything more pertinent.
** Please see this
Unheralded by me -- which is a shame, really, as it really is my duty to render prayer, praise and thanksgiving unto Llew at all times and places* -- the Links at the remote bottom of this page (where nobody, I expect, goes) have been moved up to the side where they are officially visible. This was done via the expertise of Miss Laura (not Ms).
A few links were also added, like the Sinister one (which may not work) and one for Maddie Minx.
Now, as I have been tarting around #sinister in many senses of the word, I haven't been nosing around other blogs as much. But I mosied over to Maddie's just now to visit and saw she had reciprocated linkage.
Now -- at last -- the funny bit.
All the people there get interesting titles (i. e.: the TEMPTRESS or the HISTORIAN or the ARCHAEOLOGIST).
Me: I'm the OTHER**.
Ha, ha, ha!
It's so right, it's hysterical.
*This is a joke off of Luther's Explanation of the First Commandment, as written in his Small Catechism, memorized by me in 1988 or 1989, and apparently never replaced by anything more pertinent.
** Please see this
Thursday, November 21, 2002
Okay, so today was better. If only marginally so.
It was my day off, for one, so that was nice.
I applied for work at two places. One of them is another coffee shop where my friend Lisa works. She apparently is the head girl there, and has been for a bit, but is leaving. She gave me the application without asking and said she put in a good word. Whoot!
I also applied to Borders. Man, a four page application to hawk over-priced books! Actually, it was more an act of Solidarity with Jayward, who also applied at Borders. We Jays must stick together.*
I also finished the second Harry Potter book. I derided them for a long time, and have been fully sucked in. It really was a great little book. I'm looking forward to reading the third one. And seeing the film.
Not only are they well-written and well-plotted little things, but they teach morality in a way that is effective and not all sappy or obtrusive. A hudred years ago, they'd have a big label on that says "Improving Moral Examples!"
When I went to visit my parents for dinner last week, I was surprised to see three of my nieces staying with them. When conversation died (four minutes into dinner, natch -- I checked) I innocently asked "Will you be going to see Harry Potter this weekend?"
I should mention that my sister is an ultra-right wing fundamentalist Christian, as in no Disney (they support Gays!) and never, under any circumstances, that little magick-wielding Satanist limey, Potter.
You'd think I 'd asked if they were going out for a round of genital piercing after a long night of sodomy.Not that they -- or even their mother, for that matter -- would know what that means.
These three little girls didn't speak to me the rest of dinner. My parents, amusingly, were full of smirks.
All I really want to know is what monster stories my sister is telling these kids...
I'm starting The Two Towers tonight, although I did read the first chapter of I, Claudius and was fascinated by it.
Hmm. I need to come up with $20 to keep them from turning off the phone tomorrow. If I don't post, folks, you now know why.
I will freak out though.
I wish I knew where one could go to pick up tricks. I'd so do that at this point for some hot food or some cold booze.
(Amusingly, some one who said they have a crush on me has not been for two days. The tongues of de men be full of de lies...***
I'm not at all upset. I was biting my tongue, dying to say "Really, now, how much *have* you had to drink to say I'm cute?" as he was speaking. I've got no problem in seeing him again, though, 'cause deep down I do like to hear those kinds of things.
And how much I really believe him is a little secret I'll keep to myself.)
*If I get the job, I'm getting new glasses and wearing them all the time.
** Henry V, Act V, scene ii
It was my day off, for one, so that was nice.
I applied for work at two places. One of them is another coffee shop where my friend Lisa works. She apparently is the head girl there, and has been for a bit, but is leaving. She gave me the application without asking and said she put in a good word. Whoot!
I also applied to Borders. Man, a four page application to hawk over-priced books! Actually, it was more an act of Solidarity with Jayward, who also applied at Borders. We Jays must stick together.*
I also finished the second Harry Potter book. I derided them for a long time, and have been fully sucked in. It really was a great little book. I'm looking forward to reading the third one. And seeing the film.
Not only are they well-written and well-plotted little things, but they teach morality in a way that is effective and not all sappy or obtrusive. A hudred years ago, they'd have a big label on that says "Improving Moral Examples!"
When I went to visit my parents for dinner last week, I was surprised to see three of my nieces staying with them. When conversation died (four minutes into dinner, natch -- I checked) I innocently asked "Will you be going to see Harry Potter this weekend?"
I should mention that my sister is an ultra-right wing fundamentalist Christian, as in no Disney (they support Gays!) and never, under any circumstances, that little magick-wielding Satanist limey, Potter.
You'd think I 'd asked if they were going out for a round of genital piercing after a long night of sodomy.Not that they -- or even their mother, for that matter -- would know what that means.
These three little girls didn't speak to me the rest of dinner. My parents, amusingly, were full of smirks.
All I really want to know is what monster stories my sister is telling these kids...
I'm starting The Two Towers tonight, although I did read the first chapter of I, Claudius and was fascinated by it.
Hmm. I need to come up with $20 to keep them from turning off the phone tomorrow. If I don't post, folks, you now know why.
I will freak out though.
I wish I knew where one could go to pick up tricks. I'd so do that at this point for some hot food or some cold booze.
(Amusingly, some one who said they have a crush on me has not been for two days. The tongues of de men be full of de lies...***
I'm not at all upset. I was biting my tongue, dying to say "Really, now, how much *have* you had to drink to say I'm cute?" as he was speaking. I've got no problem in seeing him again, though, 'cause deep down I do like to hear those kinds of things.
And how much I really believe him is a little secret I'll keep to myself.)
*If I get the job, I'm getting new glasses and wearing them all the time.
** Henry V, Act V, scene ii
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
Wow.
There are days when it just doesn't seem worth it to keep going. I pretty much feel like that right now. I'm so tired of being poor and harrassed. I've not slept well -- barring one night -- for probably three months. I'm beginning to think the black rings around my eyes may well be permanent now.
Friends would be nice: I got the royal sham tonight from somebody I've wanted to talk to for days. Not that it was so very bad in itself (nor was it a pleasure) but the timing was all wrong. I mean, Jeez, not *tonight*.
Or having fun would be nice. Or being happy. Besides the same time as the good night's rest, the last time I was happy was driving to the Employment Office months ago. I remember it quite well: the sun, the color, zipping around old 86, the to do for BossaNova on the radio...
Being poor takes so much energy that sometimes I think it may just be easier to give up: a draught of sleeping pills or a flick of a razor.*
Oh, I know I should stop moaning. I called and got extensions on the last three pressing bills and paid the last of the overdue rent today. All I need before next paycheck is $20 for the phone bill, which I need before Thursday, but I think I can get.
But I'll be busted till 13 December. (My next paycheck is total already budgeted out.) Most of that's spoken for, as well.
Okay, Jay, make yourself Happy:
Top Ten Things I would do with Ten Guilt-Free Dollars:
10) A six-pack of Rolling Rock Lite
9) The Perks of Being A Wallflower
8) A ticket to Harry Potter
7) a large latte with a shot of raspberry
6) Anne Rice's Queen of the Damned
5) a Wendy's Spicy Chicken Combo, Biggie-sized
4) A ticket to the new James Bond movie
3) New Lemony Snicket
2) Any of the Doctor Who novels from the past six months
1) Belle and Seabstian's If You're Feeling Sinister on VINYL**
Speaking of Belle and Sebastian, there was this faboo show on WXDU tonight as I drove home from work. I called in and requested B&S and they played "The Wrong Girl." Whoot!
I'm beginning to feel all slightly swoony of late, and it's worth mentioning cause it makes me feel so much better, but I don't like to talk about these kinds of things before the fact, out of supersticious fear. That, and I have a gentleman's sense of discretion.
I mean, somebody who can correct my French and Latin...
*Chill out. Like I'm brave enough to try.
**I've so decided this will be First Purchase after I actually make money. I'll sit in my hovel and listen to Judy and the Dream of Horse and Stars of Track and Field over and over, drink beer and be happy.
I may cry. I mean I want to now, but that's the one thing I will not let myself do till I break even. I'm afraid if I start, I just won't stop. I mean, this shit is really hard to get through. And that's how I've decided to celebrate getting through it.
The 13th of December after I cash my check, get out of work, I'm going to CD Alley and buying that album.
There are days when it just doesn't seem worth it to keep going. I pretty much feel like that right now. I'm so tired of being poor and harrassed. I've not slept well -- barring one night -- for probably three months. I'm beginning to think the black rings around my eyes may well be permanent now.
Friends would be nice: I got the royal sham tonight from somebody I've wanted to talk to for days. Not that it was so very bad in itself (nor was it a pleasure) but the timing was all wrong. I mean, Jeez, not *tonight*.
Or having fun would be nice. Or being happy. Besides the same time as the good night's rest, the last time I was happy was driving to the Employment Office months ago. I remember it quite well: the sun, the color, zipping around old 86, the to do for BossaNova on the radio...
Being poor takes so much energy that sometimes I think it may just be easier to give up: a draught of sleeping pills or a flick of a razor.*
Oh, I know I should stop moaning. I called and got extensions on the last three pressing bills and paid the last of the overdue rent today. All I need before next paycheck is $20 for the phone bill, which I need before Thursday, but I think I can get.
But I'll be busted till 13 December. (My next paycheck is total already budgeted out.) Most of that's spoken for, as well.
Okay, Jay, make yourself Happy:
Top Ten Things I would do with Ten Guilt-Free Dollars:
10) A six-pack of Rolling Rock Lite
9) The Perks of Being A Wallflower
8) A ticket to Harry Potter
7) a large latte with a shot of raspberry
6) Anne Rice's Queen of the Damned
5) a Wendy's Spicy Chicken Combo, Biggie-sized
4) A ticket to the new James Bond movie
3) New Lemony Snicket
2) Any of the Doctor Who novels from the past six months
1) Belle and Seabstian's If You're Feeling Sinister on VINYL**
Speaking of Belle and Sebastian, there was this faboo show on WXDU tonight as I drove home from work. I called in and requested B&S and they played "The Wrong Girl." Whoot!
I'm beginning to feel all slightly swoony of late, and it's worth mentioning cause it makes me feel so much better, but I don't like to talk about these kinds of things before the fact, out of supersticious fear. That, and I have a gentleman's sense of discretion.
I mean, somebody who can correct my French and Latin...
*Chill out. Like I'm brave enough to try.
**I've so decided this will be First Purchase after I actually make money. I'll sit in my hovel and listen to Judy and the Dream of Horse and Stars of Track and Field over and over, drink beer and be happy.
I may cry. I mean I want to now, but that's the one thing I will not let myself do till I break even. I'm afraid if I start, I just won't stop. I mean, this shit is really hard to get through. And that's how I've decided to celebrate getting through it.
The 13th of December after I cash my check, get out of work, I'm going to CD Alley and buying that album.
Monday, November 18, 2002
If brevity be the soul of wit,
then let also be the seat of pity -- note especially the last two verses.
Miniver Cheevey, child of scorn,
Grew lean as he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born
And he had reasons.
Miniver loved the days of old,
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.
Miniver sighed for what was not,
and dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot
and Priam's neighbors.
Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.
Miniver loved the Medici.
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly,
had he been one.
Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the mediaeval grace
Of iron clothing.
Miniver scorned the gold he sought
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver though and thought and thought
And thought about it.
Miniver Cheevey, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.
then let also be the seat of pity -- note especially the last two verses.
Miniver Cheevey, child of scorn,
Grew lean as he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born
And he had reasons.
Miniver loved the days of old,
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.
Miniver sighed for what was not,
and dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot
and Priam's neighbors.
Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.
Miniver loved the Medici.
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly,
had he been one.
Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the mediaeval grace
Of iron clothing.
Miniver scorned the gold he sought
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver though and thought and thought
And thought about it.
Miniver Cheevey, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.
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