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.
Sunday, April 13, 2003
Saturday, April 12, 2003
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!
" 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]
*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]
Thursday, April 10, 2003
Wednesday, April 09, 2003
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Sunday, March 30, 2003
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'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?
Friday, March 28, 2003
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.
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.
Thursday, March 27, 2003
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
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!
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!
Monday, March 24, 2003
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
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
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
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.
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.
Thursday, March 13, 2003
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
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
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
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
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
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
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.
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.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
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)
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)
Monday, February 17, 2003
Celebrate It!
Today, o folks, I deem it the
International Day of the Minx.
That's right. It's Maddie's birthday today.
To help us all think appropriately Minxy-BookshopGirl thoughts, a few keys phrases to memorize and slip into your daily conversations:
"The Perils of being a teenage slut: it costs a fortune in accessories."
"It makes me feel like a cheap blowjob round the back of Kristal's Nightspot."
"I want to go back to 1994 and lose my virginity to Morrissey."
Yes. I feel now closer to the MinxMindframe*.
Quote of the Week
Andy: Does the idea of the girl turn you off?
Me: Straight sex is so... unappealling and inartistic.
Jayward: Is there anything you're not a snob about?
Book of the Day: still Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Potter slashfic found; I was to grossed out to read the one story I found, a Lucius Malfoy/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter story I found.
Dr Who of the Day: Ghostlight, parts 1-3. A simple story of a crashed spaceship and its occupants in Victorian England. That evolve and leave husks behind. And are a subject to a semi-omnipotent being sent here to catalogue every species on Earth. This is, of course, exclusive of the attempt to kill Queen Victoria, how Ace burns the occupant's house in a hundred years abnd the destruction of the planet in a Firestorm program.
Confused? You should be. It took me watching it at least 4 times to figure it out PLUS reading the novelization of the script. Worth it? Possibly, fifteen years later, I'm still not totally sure what's going on.
Althought the bugs coming back to life was creeep-pey.
Word of the day: wold -- a high, rolling treeless area. Think Lincolnshire.
It's all snowy and icy today. Work shut early, which was bad as I REALLY needed the money. I may go in early tomorrow, but I don't really want to. I'm at Tense stage regarding money: I've got a registered letter from the Landlord I have to get at the Post Office tomorrow. Bodes ill, I say.
I'm also hungry, as I'm broke and have no food. This is probably why I'll go in tomorrow, just to get food.
I've also considered looking to BE someone's roommate, rather than looking for one. Anything to stay here.
Soon I plan to re-start the Grad School search -- any help greatly appreciated. I really want to find some school in New York. (NYU has a writing program I absolutely WILL NOT fall in love with.)
I met someone online today who literally lives across the street. And a #sinister boy at that. Some above comment probably applies here, as well.
Recommend Television: Foyle's War, a series on Masterpiece Theater. Criminal Investigation during the Second World War, before the Blitz. Stars Michael Kitchen. Very, very good.
Oooh. I'm cold and lonely and tense and uncertain. I don't like this at all. I'm sick of being Poor.
I'd better shut up before I start an extended rant that nobody wants to hear.
Today, o folks, I deem it the
International Day of the Minx.
That's right. It's Maddie's birthday today.
To help us all think appropriately Minxy-BookshopGirl thoughts, a few keys phrases to memorize and slip into your daily conversations:
"The Perils of being a teenage slut: it costs a fortune in accessories."
"It makes me feel like a cheap blowjob round the back of Kristal's Nightspot."
"I want to go back to 1994 and lose my virginity to Morrissey."
Yes. I feel now closer to the MinxMindframe*.
Quote of the Week
Andy: Does the idea of the girl turn you off?
Me: Straight sex is so... unappealling and inartistic.
Jayward: Is there anything you're not a snob about?
Book of the Day: still Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Potter slashfic found; I was to grossed out to read the one story I found, a Lucius Malfoy/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter story I found.
Dr Who of the Day: Ghostlight, parts 1-3. A simple story of a crashed spaceship and its occupants in Victorian England. That evolve and leave husks behind. And are a subject to a semi-omnipotent being sent here to catalogue every species on Earth. This is, of course, exclusive of the attempt to kill Queen Victoria, how Ace burns the occupant's house in a hundred years abnd the destruction of the planet in a Firestorm program.
Confused? You should be. It took me watching it at least 4 times to figure it out PLUS reading the novelization of the script. Worth it? Possibly, fifteen years later, I'm still not totally sure what's going on.
Althought the bugs coming back to life was creeep-pey.
Word of the day: wold -- a high, rolling treeless area. Think Lincolnshire.
It's all snowy and icy today. Work shut early, which was bad as I REALLY needed the money. I may go in early tomorrow, but I don't really want to. I'm at Tense stage regarding money: I've got a registered letter from the Landlord I have to get at the Post Office tomorrow. Bodes ill, I say.
I'm also hungry, as I'm broke and have no food. This is probably why I'll go in tomorrow, just to get food.
I've also considered looking to BE someone's roommate, rather than looking for one. Anything to stay here.
Soon I plan to re-start the Grad School search -- any help greatly appreciated. I really want to find some school in New York. (NYU has a writing program I absolutely WILL NOT fall in love with.)
I met someone online today who literally lives across the street. And a #sinister boy at that. Some above comment probably applies here, as well.
Recommend Television: Foyle's War, a series on Masterpiece Theater. Criminal Investigation during the Second World War, before the Blitz. Stars Michael Kitchen. Very, very good.
Oooh. I'm cold and lonely and tense and uncertain. I don't like this at all. I'm sick of being Poor.
I'd better shut up before I start an extended rant that nobody wants to hear.
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