Oops!
Through a slip of the tongue, I just suggested on air a friend of mine was being Sodomized by one or more members of the Lucksmiths.
Um, sorry, Australia-travelling friend.
Friday, February 14, 2003
Thursday, February 13, 2003
My Friends All Are Cool...
Take for instance Brian. He's eastwest.nu's Fag of the Week. That, along with a below topic, make me absolutely certain I am a second-class fag.
Or take Laurel (That's No-Site-Available Laurel) who just got a job at Time Warner Books as a Senior Editorial Assistant.
Or Ms Elle who wrote me a poem for Valentine's Day:
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
Had i the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Or Markleby who had already had and quit a job I'd kill for.
Or Laura Llew, who is now in "Too Cool for School" mood these days.
...But I Am Not
There is a yin to every yang, a hip for every twee:
I am 78% twee. This is quite twee. Find out for yourself here.
I am 70% Hip. This is just shy of the 72% needed to be an actual, certified Hipster. Test yourself here.
I am also a Performer according to the personality test here.
I am also 44% gay. How gay are you?
For both of the Spark tests, you can enter people's email address and compare yourselves with them. If you're smart, you can find mine here for that, but I'm not going to go advertizing my email address. I get enough porn ads as it is.
The result of the gay test, couple with Brian's achievement, has convinced me of my second class-ness. Phil, who speaks knowledgeably regularly of college sports, got a 43%.
On A Completely Different Note
I've been listening to tapes of my radio show lately.
This isn't as narcissistic as it seems. I don't hear me when I'm on the air, so my tapes give me a chance to see what I do good and, uh, what, uh, I do bad, uh. Fortunately, I'm fairly good at assembling sets of songs and seguing from one set to another. My voice is good when I'm stuttering or suffering massive bouts of aphasia.
But I discovered I talk about one person.
A lot.
Almost always I have some good reason to talk about them (they're way cool) but this much repitition makes me wonder just what I feel about them. I mean, I don't /think/ I have a crush on them.
But then again I am really bad at determining these things on my own.
(And yes, I know full well it's not grammatical to use 'them' in the above paragraph, but I don't feel like distinguishing gender at the moment.)
If you're up for whom I'm in love with a the moment, there are several. There's Brian that I work with (no Brian Joannou), whom nobody would know, and two Sinister boys, whom you all might and so you get no futher information. Niether is currently on the continent, so they're both completely unrealistic right now, which (paradoxically) makes them perfect crushes.
Cosmology is Fun!
From the Front Page of Yesterday's New York Times
I'm not actually going to say what was in the story (You're a Big Boy! You can Read!), but it was interesting and very important. I tried to talk about it on #sinister, but it went over like a lead balloon.
Essentially, it's a picture of the Universe from a very long time ago. It shows stars showed up much earlier than anyone predicted. Big honking stars that as they died created every element except Hydrogen.
The clusters they found also confirm a theory that minute imperfections seconds after creation helped form the galaxies and galactic clusters of today.
It also helps revise theage of the universe to about 13 billion years, give or take a percent.
Yep, Dr Who does it again, when ten years ago he celebrated the 13, 500, 020, 012th Birthday.
There's more in the article, about polarizing microwaves, but what struck me was this. Up until fairly recently, you could look out into the universe and seeing blazing light all through the heavens, the energy afterbirth of the Universe's creation in the form of radiation.
The handwriting of god, indeed.
Not that I believe in god, but I like the metaphor. I think I can look into the inexplicable and say "I don't know what that is" and not call it "God."
Cosmology though is terribly interesting. This article also goes to hint that the Universe is an open set (no two parallel lines will ever converge). This means that the Universe will keep expanding till all the energy in it runs out (Heat Death).
I like the idea of a Closed Set, where the Universe expands to a point (Red Shift) then contracts (Blue Shift) to a singularity (the Big Crunch) in the mirror image of the Big Bang. This means there's only one Universe that goes through an infinite amount of permutations.
This is without going into the idea of Ur-Universes, micro universes, pin galaxies or how there could be multiple universes or even how the universe could have created itself.
So settle for this: the Universe is shaped like a balloon. Think about it.. If it started as a point and then expands, it's one curved space (Einstienian Space/Time). With Nothing in the middle or the Outside, cause nothing exists outside the Universe, by definition.
Book of the day: Still Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The Dementor's Kiss: freaky. Now I wonder if there's Harry Potter slashfic, and guiltily, if it involves Oliver Wood. As it's technically a children's book, I do want to go round criticizing it, as long as it remains entertaining.
Word of the day: Bijou. Small and fine and fussy. Think tea cup poodles and lace doilies. Icky little word, isn't it?
Reason for today Laura Llew Rocks: "Attention Burglars: this is a linen closet, not a bedroom." Very clever. I approve.
Hmm. I drink too much and smoke too much and am broke again. But the WXDU-WXYC Prom is tomorrow night. Whoo-hoo!
Take for instance Brian. He's eastwest.nu's Fag of the Week. That, along with a below topic, make me absolutely certain I am a second-class fag.
Or take Laurel (That's No-Site-Available Laurel) who just got a job at Time Warner Books as a Senior Editorial Assistant.
Or Ms Elle who wrote me a poem for Valentine's Day:
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
Had i the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Or Markleby who had already had and quit a job I'd kill for.
Or Laura Llew, who is now in "Too Cool for School" mood these days.
...But I Am Not
There is a yin to every yang, a hip for every twee:
I am 78% twee. This is quite twee. Find out for yourself here.
I am 70% Hip. This is just shy of the 72% needed to be an actual, certified Hipster. Test yourself here.
I am also a Performer according to the personality test here.
I am also 44% gay. How gay are you?
For both of the Spark tests, you can enter people's email address and compare yourselves with them. If you're smart, you can find mine here for that, but I'm not going to go advertizing my email address. I get enough porn ads as it is.
The result of the gay test, couple with Brian's achievement, has convinced me of my second class-ness. Phil, who speaks knowledgeably regularly of college sports, got a 43%.
On A Completely Different Note
I've been listening to tapes of my radio show lately.
This isn't as narcissistic as it seems. I don't hear me when I'm on the air, so my tapes give me a chance to see what I do good and, uh, what, uh, I do bad, uh. Fortunately, I'm fairly good at assembling sets of songs and seguing from one set to another. My voice is good when I'm stuttering or suffering massive bouts of aphasia.
But I discovered I talk about one person.
A lot.
Almost always I have some good reason to talk about them (they're way cool) but this much repitition makes me wonder just what I feel about them. I mean, I don't /think/ I have a crush on them.
But then again I am really bad at determining these things on my own.
(And yes, I know full well it's not grammatical to use 'them' in the above paragraph, but I don't feel like distinguishing gender at the moment.)
If you're up for whom I'm in love with a the moment, there are several. There's Brian that I work with (no Brian Joannou), whom nobody would know, and two Sinister boys, whom you all might and so you get no futher information. Niether is currently on the continent, so they're both completely unrealistic right now, which (paradoxically) makes them perfect crushes.
Cosmology is Fun!
From the Front Page of Yesterday's New York Times
I'm not actually going to say what was in the story (You're a Big Boy! You can Read!), but it was interesting and very important. I tried to talk about it on #sinister, but it went over like a lead balloon.
Essentially, it's a picture of the Universe from a very long time ago. It shows stars showed up much earlier than anyone predicted. Big honking stars that as they died created every element except Hydrogen.
The clusters they found also confirm a theory that minute imperfections seconds after creation helped form the galaxies and galactic clusters of today.
It also helps revise theage of the universe to about 13 billion years, give or take a percent.
Yep, Dr Who does it again, when ten years ago he celebrated the 13, 500, 020, 012th Birthday.
There's more in the article, about polarizing microwaves, but what struck me was this. Up until fairly recently, you could look out into the universe and seeing blazing light all through the heavens, the energy afterbirth of the Universe's creation in the form of radiation.
The handwriting of god, indeed.
Not that I believe in god, but I like the metaphor. I think I can look into the inexplicable and say "I don't know what that is" and not call it "God."
Cosmology though is terribly interesting. This article also goes to hint that the Universe is an open set (no two parallel lines will ever converge). This means that the Universe will keep expanding till all the energy in it runs out (Heat Death).
I like the idea of a Closed Set, where the Universe expands to a point (Red Shift) then contracts (Blue Shift) to a singularity (the Big Crunch) in the mirror image of the Big Bang. This means there's only one Universe that goes through an infinite amount of permutations.
This is without going into the idea of Ur-Universes, micro universes, pin galaxies or how there could be multiple universes or even how the universe could have created itself.
So settle for this: the Universe is shaped like a balloon. Think about it.. If it started as a point and then expands, it's one curved space (Einstienian Space/Time). With Nothing in the middle or the Outside, cause nothing exists outside the Universe, by definition.
Book of the day: Still Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The Dementor's Kiss: freaky. Now I wonder if there's Harry Potter slashfic, and guiltily, if it involves Oliver Wood. As it's technically a children's book, I do want to go round criticizing it, as long as it remains entertaining.
Word of the day: Bijou. Small and fine and fussy. Think tea cup poodles and lace doilies. Icky little word, isn't it?
Reason for today Laura Llew Rocks: "Attention Burglars: this is a linen closet, not a bedroom." Very clever. I approve.
Hmm. I drink too much and smoke too much and am broke again. But the WXDU-WXYC Prom is tomorrow night. Whoo-hoo!
Monday, February 10, 2003
A Boy and a Girl and Boy Equals...
I have other stuff I should talk about, but this -- hands down -- is the most interesting event lately.
I was asked to be in a threesome.
It was by this couple who come in quite a lot at work. Her I knew vaguely in school (we had the same piano instructor and I think she was in 1 or 2 of my Art History classes). Him I knew from the store. I had talked to him several times and thought maybe he was coming on to me. I didn't know till after that he went out with ******. (Her name, by the by, is a sylph in certain Daniel Handler novel. No, not Flan.)
Since I knew them both, and they came in during my lunch break, I sat down with them for a bit. In between, actually, not realizing I had been manipulated there. I thought it odd when she mentioned she had wanted to ask me out in school (I had thought about asking her out, as well) and if I was seeing anyone. I thought it odder when she asked me what I thought about certain goings at a club called Hell, but we /had/ been talking about the Chapel Hill social scene.
And well, then they asked.
Amazingly, I didn't spit out my chai all over them both. Equally amazingly, I didn't go "Nonononono!" I was so shocked I only managed an ever-so-polite "Well, I'll certainly consider it." They seem well pleased.
All I really could think was "Wow. How different would my life be if I did go out with her? I mean, a girl who lets me sleep with boys?!"
Will I say yes? Not even I know the answer to that.
(Yes, he is totally cute. She's pretty, as well.)
Speaking of loving girls:
I know she never comes here, but Laurel is responsible for me being here now. She told me to go talk to the Landlord about the Roommate copping out and consquent lack of money. We sorted something out. Things'll be swell if I can find a roommate by the end of the month.
I'm even managing to pay off the odd few bills as well.
But not the DSL bill. Which is pretty steep. They're disconnecting this week. I can still get to the internet at work, so no real worries, but the lack of #sinister will be a bit jarring. If everything goes as planned, I should pay of that bill within a few paychecks. Or get a new kind of (cheaper) ISP even sooner.
I Love Laura Llew
She sent me a package in the mail for Valentines Day. He he he!
It had The Austere Academy (fits of giggles) and a very promising-looking novel called Thus Was Adonis Murdered, which besides having an intriguing title, has a Gorey print on the cover.
[Note to self: include a link to an Edward Gorey site very soon.]
Chocolates were seen in abundance as well -- and don't think I didn't notice the delicious Andes Mint.
With no nuts.
Best of all was Lip Balm of the Gods. My cracked, dried lips never had it so good. That stuff roX0rs my soX0rs. I even carry it in the fifth pocket of my jeans, 'cause you know:
WWLLD?
(It's the next logical step from WWDPD?)
Right, In Your Best Mr Humphries Voice...
Also, less fascinatingly, a conversation from work:
George: Sir, are you being served?
Me: "I'm free!" *dissolves into a fit of giggles for several minutes*
Book of the Day: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Dark. Scary. But promises to have more Oliver Wood in the next film, so completely acceptable.
Also, tomorrow: more reviews and fascinating comments, but I wanna sleep now.
I have other stuff I should talk about, but this -- hands down -- is the most interesting event lately.
I was asked to be in a threesome.
It was by this couple who come in quite a lot at work. Her I knew vaguely in school (we had the same piano instructor and I think she was in 1 or 2 of my Art History classes). Him I knew from the store. I had talked to him several times and thought maybe he was coming on to me. I didn't know till after that he went out with ******. (Her name, by the by, is a sylph in certain Daniel Handler novel. No, not Flan.)
Since I knew them both, and they came in during my lunch break, I sat down with them for a bit. In between, actually, not realizing I had been manipulated there. I thought it odd when she mentioned she had wanted to ask me out in school (I had thought about asking her out, as well) and if I was seeing anyone. I thought it odder when she asked me what I thought about certain goings at a club called Hell, but we /had/ been talking about the Chapel Hill social scene.
And well, then they asked.
Amazingly, I didn't spit out my chai all over them both. Equally amazingly, I didn't go "Nonononono!" I was so shocked I only managed an ever-so-polite "Well, I'll certainly consider it." They seem well pleased.
All I really could think was "Wow. How different would my life be if I did go out with her? I mean, a girl who lets me sleep with boys?!"
Will I say yes? Not even I know the answer to that.
(Yes, he is totally cute. She's pretty, as well.)
Speaking of loving girls:
I know she never comes here, but Laurel is responsible for me being here now. She told me to go talk to the Landlord about the Roommate copping out and consquent lack of money. We sorted something out. Things'll be swell if I can find a roommate by the end of the month.
I'm even managing to pay off the odd few bills as well.
But not the DSL bill. Which is pretty steep. They're disconnecting this week. I can still get to the internet at work, so no real worries, but the lack of #sinister will be a bit jarring. If everything goes as planned, I should pay of that bill within a few paychecks. Or get a new kind of (cheaper) ISP even sooner.
I Love Laura Llew
She sent me a package in the mail for Valentines Day. He he he!
It had The Austere Academy (fits of giggles) and a very promising-looking novel called Thus Was Adonis Murdered, which besides having an intriguing title, has a Gorey print on the cover.
[Note to self: include a link to an Edward Gorey site very soon.]
Chocolates were seen in abundance as well -- and don't think I didn't notice the delicious Andes Mint.
With no nuts.
Best of all was Lip Balm of the Gods. My cracked, dried lips never had it so good. That stuff roX0rs my soX0rs. I even carry it in the fifth pocket of my jeans, 'cause you know:
WWLLD?
(It's the next logical step from WWDPD?)
Right, In Your Best Mr Humphries Voice...
Also, less fascinatingly, a conversation from work:
George: Sir, are you being served?
Me: "I'm free!" *dissolves into a fit of giggles for several minutes*
Book of the Day: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Dark. Scary. But promises to have more Oliver Wood in the next film, so completely acceptable.
Also, tomorrow: more reviews and fascinating comments, but I wanna sleep now.
Friday, February 07, 2003
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
A Note as the World Ends...
Well, my world anyway.
I threw out BWWBR over the weekend as he's neglected to pay his bills of late.
Now, I have no way to pay rent or utilities, let alone other bills.
I'm terrified I'll have to move out and I'm not sure where I'll go. I'd just as well shoot myself than move in with the Major and Co. I don't want to leave where I live, my friends, my radio show, my music.
But I will get through this. I've been through this before.
But here's a thought:
A line in Jeff Buckley's song 'Hallelujah' (and Oh! how I love that song right now) goes: "All I've ever learned from love is... that it's not a cry you hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken "Hallelujah..."
It reminds me of Faulkner's As I Lay Dying or Browning's "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came". Actually, I think it's more eloquent in its concision. It isn't "He who survives to the end will recieve absolution."
He who survives gets knowledge.
It's very late, so I'm not sure how much that sense that makes.
I may have said this, but I miss having someone to sleep with. Not to have sex with per se, but it would be quite nice just to have someone there at night.
To snuggle.
There, I said it. To snuggle.
And I wouldn't object to falling asleep in somebody's arms either for that matter.
Let's all carry on like I never said that aloud, shall we?
We all have reputations to uphold.
I've recently finished reading The Return of the King, Bored of the Rings and The Miserable Mill. I've watched Dr Who and the Silurians and The Sea Devils. I just bought Le Tigre's first album (Rocks!). Would we all prefer to talk about those instead?!
Well, my world anyway.
I threw out BWWBR over the weekend as he's neglected to pay his bills of late.
Now, I have no way to pay rent or utilities, let alone other bills.
I'm terrified I'll have to move out and I'm not sure where I'll go. I'd just as well shoot myself than move in with the Major and Co. I don't want to leave where I live, my friends, my radio show, my music.
But I will get through this. I've been through this before.
But here's a thought:
A line in Jeff Buckley's song 'Hallelujah' (and Oh! how I love that song right now) goes: "All I've ever learned from love is... that it's not a cry you hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken "Hallelujah..."
It reminds me of Faulkner's As I Lay Dying or Browning's "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came". Actually, I think it's more eloquent in its concision. It isn't "He who survives to the end will recieve absolution."
He who survives gets knowledge.
It's very late, so I'm not sure how much that sense that makes.
I may have said this, but I miss having someone to sleep with. Not to have sex with per se, but it would be quite nice just to have someone there at night.
To snuggle.
There, I said it. To snuggle.
And I wouldn't object to falling asleep in somebody's arms either for that matter.
Let's all carry on like I never said that aloud, shall we?
We all have reputations to uphold.
I've recently finished reading The Return of the King, Bored of the Rings and The Miserable Mill. I've watched Dr Who and the Silurians and The Sea Devils. I just bought Le Tigre's first album (Rocks!). Would we all prefer to talk about those instead?!
Saturday, February 01, 2003
Damn That Dose of Thrush...
Lazy Line-Painter Jane.
Which Belle & Sebastian Song Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
This is also the answer to one of the questions on my friendtest.
Yeah, yeah, yeal. I'm alive and blogging.
No doubt I'll bore you to tears later with the result.
Lazy Line-Painter Jane.
Which Belle & Sebastian Song Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
This is also the answer to one of the questions on my friendtest.
Yeah, yeah, yeal. I'm alive and blogging.
No doubt I'll bore you to tears later with the result.
Friday, January 31, 2003
Thursday, January 23, 2003
The End
I'm seriously considering deleting this site.
I can't really keep up the pretence that anyone is really deeply concerned with my ramblings.
Certainly they don't find it amusing or thought provoking, and I can't stand the idea of people coming here for pity's sake to see the newest bunch of my sniping and snivelling and I know far too well I'm too abrasive to evoke any sympathy.
And it dovetails nicely with my new decision to unsubscribe from several mailing lists, close up my public email account and give up my radio slot. To disappear back to the ether I came of, as it were.
I may keep the site up, unchanging, to come back to in some future place and stare at the ghost for a bit and think on what was.
About here I'd add some flip comment on my own mercurial nature, and how all this is likely to change before dinner tomorrow, but the more I write, the more certain I am in my course.
I shall read and ponder and slowly fade in memory into something better than I ever truly was. I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, for I am old and alone before ever my time has come and I presume too much on the courtesy of others to sustain me.
Think well, if you think of me at all, for I have enjoyed being here, but I've overstayed my welcome.
Good night.
I'm seriously considering deleting this site.
I can't really keep up the pretence that anyone is really deeply concerned with my ramblings.
Certainly they don't find it amusing or thought provoking, and I can't stand the idea of people coming here for pity's sake to see the newest bunch of my sniping and snivelling and I know far too well I'm too abrasive to evoke any sympathy.
And it dovetails nicely with my new decision to unsubscribe from several mailing lists, close up my public email account and give up my radio slot. To disappear back to the ether I came of, as it were.
I may keep the site up, unchanging, to come back to in some future place and stare at the ghost for a bit and think on what was.
About here I'd add some flip comment on my own mercurial nature, and how all this is likely to change before dinner tomorrow, but the more I write, the more certain I am in my course.
I shall read and ponder and slowly fade in memory into something better than I ever truly was. I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, for I am old and alone before ever my time has come and I presume too much on the courtesy of others to sustain me.
Think well, if you think of me at all, for I have enjoyed being here, but I've overstayed my welcome.
Good night.
Monday, January 20, 2003
An Open Apology
For various reasons I won't go into here, I've been crazy for the past several days.
Bitchy. Mean.
I've offended several people who simply didn't deserve it and left others wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
Sorry, folks. I'm a fuck-up. I apologize.
I'll try to make amends if anyone can stand to be near enough to me to let me try.
But I don't blame you if you can't.
I'll probably hole and leave everybody alone for a few days to get over myself.
For various reasons I won't go into here, I've been crazy for the past several days.
Bitchy. Mean.
I've offended several people who simply didn't deserve it and left others wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
Sorry, folks. I'm a fuck-up. I apologize.
I'll try to make amends if anyone can stand to be near enough to me to let me try.
But I don't blame you if you can't.
I'll probably hole and leave everybody alone for a few days to get over myself.
Sunday, January 19, 2003
Wasting Time Is All I'm Gonna Do
Someone -- actually two someones -- tonight made me quite mad. I realized I either sounded like a total ponce or a total bitch.
I'm quite sure they didn't understand they touched a completely raw nerve.
They were making fun of actors. Specifically, they were suggesting that anyone and their mother in New York can get a bit part on Law and Order.
That had a point, granted: it is easy to get on the show, I suppose. I know plenty of people who have. I'm glad of it to, easy jobs for actors. I mean, it's a paycheck and a resume slot, all in one.
What really, really vexed me was their sneering attitude towards actors. The implicit idea that anyone can do it and that it requires no real training.
Which is so not true.
Obviously, as someone who studied it seriously for four years and who studied it for a decade before that, I take umbrage when a person belittles my profession. It takes a great deal of training, study and work to be any good at acting.
Stanislavski's students -- and most programs based on his teaching -- require besides a rigorous theatre study, fencing, gymnastics and dancing. Along with studying literature, art, history and pyschology. And when I say rigorous theatre study, I mean, poise, elocution, movement and newer programs teach tai chi and othe eastern movements.
And acting is only the beginning. Directors, dramaturgs, producers and designers all take acting classes as a practicum to understanding their own studies.
It takes dedication, understanding, and lots of work to be an actor. To suggest anyone can do it is an insult. It shows disrespect to the art.
No one says that about dancers or sculptors or poets.
Obviously, I spend a lot of time defending what I do. I take pride in it. I do what Shakespeare did. I what Marlowe did, and Tennessee Williams and Brecht and Ibsen. I can change the world, because I can change the way people see the world.
Also, it irritated me because I can't -- or probably more accurately, don't -- get on in the world of theatre.
I should go. I have to work early tomorrow.
Someone -- actually two someones -- tonight made me quite mad. I realized I either sounded like a total ponce or a total bitch.
I'm quite sure they didn't understand they touched a completely raw nerve.
They were making fun of actors. Specifically, they were suggesting that anyone and their mother in New York can get a bit part on Law and Order.
That had a point, granted: it is easy to get on the show, I suppose. I know plenty of people who have. I'm glad of it to, easy jobs for actors. I mean, it's a paycheck and a resume slot, all in one.
What really, really vexed me was their sneering attitude towards actors. The implicit idea that anyone can do it and that it requires no real training.
Which is so not true.
Obviously, as someone who studied it seriously for four years and who studied it for a decade before that, I take umbrage when a person belittles my profession. It takes a great deal of training, study and work to be any good at acting.
Stanislavski's students -- and most programs based on his teaching -- require besides a rigorous theatre study, fencing, gymnastics and dancing. Along with studying literature, art, history and pyschology. And when I say rigorous theatre study, I mean, poise, elocution, movement and newer programs teach tai chi and othe eastern movements.
And acting is only the beginning. Directors, dramaturgs, producers and designers all take acting classes as a practicum to understanding their own studies.
It takes dedication, understanding, and lots of work to be an actor. To suggest anyone can do it is an insult. It shows disrespect to the art.
No one says that about dancers or sculptors or poets.
Obviously, I spend a lot of time defending what I do. I take pride in it. I do what Shakespeare did. I what Marlowe did, and Tennessee Williams and Brecht and Ibsen. I can change the world, because I can change the way people see the world.
Also, it irritated me because I can't -- or probably more accurately, don't -- get on in the world of theatre.
I should go. I have to work early tomorrow.
Friday, January 17, 2003
Glud-vin!
As a part of my New Year's Resolution to read the newspaper much more often, I bring you this article.
http://www.charlotte.com/mld/observer/4945183.htm .
For those of you unfortunates not in the know, Cheerwine is the king of all sodas. It's a cherry-esque soda brewed in North Carolina, and marketed in NC, SC and parts of TN, VA and GA. It totally rules.
My thanks to Kristen Idleberry, the cutie who hooked me up with Norwegian translation of "Cheerwine".
For the record, she also speaks Nynorsk and the other Norwegian tongue, Swedish, Danish and Finnish.
And she's not blonde nor helmet with horns.*
My other Resolutions include: exercizing more, being on time more and reading more quality books (i. e.: Portrait of a Lady rather than Dr Who: Combat Rock).
*Joke, K., joke. Hotties never wear armour.
And from last time:
*I did, however, order a free sample of Astroglide. We were talking about the site, and I went, and was totally intrigued. It was really well designed, in as much as I notice these things. Did you know it was invented by NASA? Be a patriot: use some!
Go here.
As a part of my New Year's Resolution to read the newspaper much more often, I bring you this article.
http://www.charlotte.com/mld/observer/4945183.htm .
For those of you unfortunates not in the know, Cheerwine is the king of all sodas. It's a cherry-esque soda brewed in North Carolina, and marketed in NC, SC and parts of TN, VA and GA. It totally rules.
My thanks to Kristen Idleberry, the cutie who hooked me up with Norwegian translation of "Cheerwine".
For the record, she also speaks Nynorsk and the other Norwegian tongue, Swedish, Danish and Finnish.
And she's not blonde nor helmet with horns.*
My other Resolutions include: exercizing more, being on time more and reading more quality books (i. e.: Portrait of a Lady rather than Dr Who: Combat Rock).
*Joke, K., joke. Hotties never wear armour.
And from last time:
*I did, however, order a free sample of Astroglide. We were talking about the site, and I went, and was totally intrigued. It was really well designed, in as much as I notice these things. Did you know it was invented by NASA? Be a patriot: use some!
Go here.
"I've been to Nice and the Isle of Greece
While I sipped champagne on a yacht."
Yesterday was fun, for a day I spent eight hours in my car.
I dashed south only to meet a fairly significant snow storm. Missing my target, I sped back North with the storm on my heels.
Then I gave in.
There's this porno palace right at the state line.
I've passed it dozens of time, but I've never been past it alone at a reasonable hour. I've either been with people who'd NEVER go in or past it at 3 am (Not even I want to try it then).
It was pretty frightfully dull, really.
Lots of straight people having sex. All the vidoes had to be able to be aired on cable TV, so they were all broing soft-core stuff. The most risque tape had black girls in it. They had magazines (I found an old two pack of Playgirl, the only one I even thought about) but the really scary ones were the local Swingers Mags: Georgia/Alabamba/Tennessee Swings!
*shudders*
And there were toys. I'd never buy any*, but these people put some Serious thought into masturbation. Serious thought.
I had been at the Major's for a few days and missed seeing somebody I had wanted to, so I geuss I was looking for amusement. I mean, I had to u-turn and travel back five miles after I passed it...
Speaking of the Major's, I escaped there for a few (umm... eight) hours and came away with the Mix of Perfection. I started out attempting to download music from my own computer, burn it and free up memory. When I couldn't find me on KaZaA, I started downloading stuff I wanted.
Thus the Mix was born.
It's got Tatu, the Russian Teenage Lesbian Sensation (like you need a reason to like *that* ) doing a cover of "How Soon Is Now?", Lemon Jelly, Belle and Sebastian, three songs from Sixty Nine Love Songs, Serge Gainsbourg ("69 Annees Erotique") and Camera Obscura!
AND it has my new favourite song, "I've Never Been to Me." It's the hysterical song about the girl with the perfect life moaning about it: you can see this woman with a cigarette holder in a bar in 1978, drunk, harassing some chica. What sells it is the absolute commitment this lady, Charleen, invests it with. Top it with an uber-kitschy spoken monologue and Damn, boy! you got a tune.
Otherwise, life has been quite boring. I'm in debt again to the phone company. I expect they'll get a bad check. Work, work, work and no fun.
There was a bit fo drama earlier this week when BWWBR almost got thrown out for not paying his bills, but it was worked out amicably, almost. The Little Red Car got some work done for free and is working nicely for the first time in months.
It snowed. For the first time in my memory, the snow didn't lay on the road and ruin the world as we know it. It was very pretty while it lasted. It reminded me that I like Winter, even as little as it comes down here.
For those who are interested, I died of a drug over-dose, though where that came from. I've no clue.
Reading: I'm STILL reading The Return of the King. I'm on the last book, though, and looking forward to the indices, as nerdy as that sounds. Tolkien was a historian and linguist, so it should prove interesting reading. I'm impressed by his efforts in creating Middle Earth, but I still think it's sad.
Deeply sad. I'll save actual commentary on the book till the end.
Word of the day: fell -- extremely bad, cruel, fierce, terrible.As Eldritch is to Lovecraft, so Fell is to Tolkien. You know it's a bad motherfucker when he pulls that word out. Which he does with regularity. The Nazgul is fell; the troll is fell; the balrog is fell; The Mines of Moria are fell; the fell is fell.
Dr Who of the Day: Destiny of the Daleks, parts 1 - 4.
"Ooh, look! Rocks!" The beginning one of the strangest season ever. Douglas Adams was now the script editor and Tom Baker was in control of the directors. And snogging the girl who played Romana (they later got married). The whole thing is played very fast and loose, and if you think too hard it falls apart.
But man is it fun.
There are great touches: the newly regenerated Romana's clothes are a female version of the Doctor's, down to the boots, coat (in pink) and long scarf. While penned in, the Doctor reads "Origins of the Universe" by Oolon Caluphid, which crops up several times in the Hitch-hiker's Guide Trilogy.
Unfortunately, the budget is crap. The eponymous Daleks are a bit dodgy (you can see the dowels that hold them together in part 4). And the Movellans! Disco Robots, baby, with silver dreds and a groovin space ships. It was 1979, I suppose...
Plotwise: eh, it's a dalek story. They trundle out 23 minutes into part one. Not really a climax when "Dalek" is in the title (Not that that hadn't been a problem for at least a decade at this point.) The idea is interesting though, of two logical minds in combat. And it puts the Doctor and Davros in nice opposition. Underscored nicely by Baker's manic movement and Davros in his wheelchair.
Yeah, I recommend this puppy.
Reason Laura Llew Rocks, number *mumbles a bit*: Girls with Power Tools. Oh yeah, how much did I want to see that? I bet she'll be on a tool company calendar now, no doubt in her ******** *****.
What's that? The next Reason She Rocks, natch.
While I sipped champagne on a yacht."
Yesterday was fun, for a day I spent eight hours in my car.
I dashed south only to meet a fairly significant snow storm. Missing my target, I sped back North with the storm on my heels.
Then I gave in.
There's this porno palace right at the state line.
I've passed it dozens of time, but I've never been past it alone at a reasonable hour. I've either been with people who'd NEVER go in or past it at 3 am (Not even I want to try it then).
It was pretty frightfully dull, really.
Lots of straight people having sex. All the vidoes had to be able to be aired on cable TV, so they were all broing soft-core stuff. The most risque tape had black girls in it. They had magazines (I found an old two pack of Playgirl, the only one I even thought about) but the really scary ones were the local Swingers Mags: Georgia/Alabamba/Tennessee Swings!
*shudders*
And there were toys. I'd never buy any*, but these people put some Serious thought into masturbation. Serious thought.
I had been at the Major's for a few days and missed seeing somebody I had wanted to, so I geuss I was looking for amusement. I mean, I had to u-turn and travel back five miles after I passed it...
Speaking of the Major's, I escaped there for a few (umm... eight) hours and came away with the Mix of Perfection. I started out attempting to download music from my own computer, burn it and free up memory. When I couldn't find me on KaZaA, I started downloading stuff I wanted.
Thus the Mix was born.
It's got Tatu, the Russian Teenage Lesbian Sensation (like you need a reason to like *that* ) doing a cover of "How Soon Is Now?", Lemon Jelly, Belle and Sebastian, three songs from Sixty Nine Love Songs, Serge Gainsbourg ("69 Annees Erotique") and Camera Obscura!
AND it has my new favourite song, "I've Never Been to Me." It's the hysterical song about the girl with the perfect life moaning about it: you can see this woman with a cigarette holder in a bar in 1978, drunk, harassing some chica. What sells it is the absolute commitment this lady, Charleen, invests it with. Top it with an uber-kitschy spoken monologue and Damn, boy! you got a tune.
Otherwise, life has been quite boring. I'm in debt again to the phone company. I expect they'll get a bad check. Work, work, work and no fun.
There was a bit fo drama earlier this week when BWWBR almost got thrown out for not paying his bills, but it was worked out amicably, almost. The Little Red Car got some work done for free and is working nicely for the first time in months.
It snowed. For the first time in my memory, the snow didn't lay on the road and ruin the world as we know it. It was very pretty while it lasted. It reminded me that I like Winter, even as little as it comes down here.
For those who are interested, I died of a drug over-dose, though where that came from. I've no clue.
Reading: I'm STILL reading The Return of the King. I'm on the last book, though, and looking forward to the indices, as nerdy as that sounds. Tolkien was a historian and linguist, so it should prove interesting reading. I'm impressed by his efforts in creating Middle Earth, but I still think it's sad.
Deeply sad. I'll save actual commentary on the book till the end.
Word of the day: fell -- extremely bad, cruel, fierce, terrible.As Eldritch is to Lovecraft, so Fell is to Tolkien. You know it's a bad motherfucker when he pulls that word out. Which he does with regularity. The Nazgul is fell; the troll is fell; the balrog is fell; The Mines of Moria are fell; the fell is fell.
Dr Who of the Day: Destiny of the Daleks, parts 1 - 4.
"Ooh, look! Rocks!" The beginning one of the strangest season ever. Douglas Adams was now the script editor and Tom Baker was in control of the directors. And snogging the girl who played Romana (they later got married). The whole thing is played very fast and loose, and if you think too hard it falls apart.
But man is it fun.
There are great touches: the newly regenerated Romana's clothes are a female version of the Doctor's, down to the boots, coat (in pink) and long scarf. While penned in, the Doctor reads "Origins of the Universe" by Oolon Caluphid, which crops up several times in the Hitch-hiker's Guide Trilogy.
Unfortunately, the budget is crap. The eponymous Daleks are a bit dodgy (you can see the dowels that hold them together in part 4). And the Movellans! Disco Robots, baby, with silver dreds and a groovin space ships. It was 1979, I suppose...
Plotwise: eh, it's a dalek story. They trundle out 23 minutes into part one. Not really a climax when "Dalek" is in the title (Not that that hadn't been a problem for at least a decade at this point.) The idea is interesting though, of two logical minds in combat. And it puts the Doctor and Davros in nice opposition. Underscored nicely by Baker's manic movement and Davros in his wheelchair.
Yeah, I recommend this puppy.
Reason Laura Llew Rocks, number *mumbles a bit*: Girls with Power Tools. Oh yeah, how much did I want to see that? I bet she'll be on a tool company calendar now, no doubt in her ******** *****.
What's that? The next Reason She Rocks, natch.
Saturday, January 11, 2003
You Aren't Reading This...
I got an email today out of the blue from a friend of mine in high school whom I haven't seen since he graduated in 1995.
Apparently, rumor there has it I'm dead.
Isn't that GRATE?
It's been so long since I've been home, so long since I've had anything to do with anyone from there they actually think I've passed on.
This totally makes my day.
I got an email today out of the blue from a friend of mine in high school whom I haven't seen since he graduated in 1995.
Apparently, rumor there has it I'm dead.
Isn't that GRATE?
It's been so long since I've been home, so long since I've had anything to do with anyone from there they actually think I've passed on.
This totally makes my day.
Wednesday, January 08, 2003
Big Time New Years Deal.
For a concurrent view of this trip, please see Petullant.
So, I went away for New Years.
I was invited to a dinner party and after a little initial waffling, decided to go.
Ms Laura Llew drove up on the 30th. She was 2 hours early (she us Llaura Lleadfoot), so I didn't have time to make the appropriate Andes Mint Cookies and hot cocoa. Fortunately, this was the only disappointment on the trip. We went to Henry's and Lantern for drinks -- well, I drank -- and mooched around campus for a bit. We broke into Old Playmaker's Theater and nosed around as well for a bit.
Amusingly, we ran into Gordon, the Coolest Bartender in These Parts, while at Lantern. He told us how he thought BWWBR had MS till re realized he was just very drunk. Then I taught Gordon how to make Sazeracs. Then he made another one for me on the house that was better than the first.
We left early on the 31 to glamorous* Jersey City. Well, early for me, 10.30. We zipped through Durham and Richmond, got on I-95 and zipped though DC and left the South listening to The SantaLand Diairies We stopped outside Baltimore (in Finksburg) to drop off books to a Random House warehouse. It was closed, contrary to what had be promised the Llew. I left my own form of criticism**. Fortunately, this necessitiated a longer stay so we could drop off the books on the 2nd. About this point we saw a sign that created the expression "Jesus Doesn't Do Smack."
We ate our meal at a Bob Evans (I had a Chicken Cordon Blue Sandwich with tasty fries. Llew had an omelette without many of the listed ingredients.)
I fell asleep at one point, clutching the bag of CDs like a teddy. This was, apparently, quite Cute.
Then we got back in the car and zipped across Delaware (mean little state with mad tolls: I disapprove) and into Joisey. We got in Jersey City about 8.30. We found Brian's place and Llew managed to parallel park nearby. Now, the funny part was as we argued about who would ring the buzzer, people were watching. And, I suspect, laughing. But they let us in.
Brian and Matt, his boyfriend, were our hosts***. Will and his girlfriend Katy were there, and a little bit later Laurel appeared. We ate fondue and spicy sausage stew. I drank a rum and coke. We watched Trading Spaces (had never seen it and found it tedious) a Channel 4 show called Spaced (the newest trend? I dunno, I'd never heard of it but found it amusing). At midnight, we went outside and listened to fireworks we couldn't see and drank champagne and a fascinating raspberry champagne. After that, we watched an episode of The Gold Girls -- one where Rose has a triple bypass -- because Laurel had never seen the show before. We listened to Tatu (?), a group of Ukranian Teenage Lesbians covering "How Soon Is Now." Then Laura and I walked back to Laurel apartment, maybe three blocks away, where we were staying. I must have fallen asleep within 20 minutes, throwing myself on the floor when Llew claimed the couch. Or so I am reliably informed. This was 2 am.
We woke up late the next morning to have brunch at a place called The Coach House. It was filled with amusing Jersey stereotypes. There were old ladies with flourescent light blue eyeshadow and fake leopard fur shawls and toughs in a party of 10 trying to get in ("Who do you have to be to get in here, God?" "Jesus, party of 12!") I wanted them to continue talking despite the fact they were terribly loud and obnoxious. We also met Ben there. I had a Spicy Buffallo Chicken Sandwich. Llew had another omellette.
After bruch, we stopped off at a Kohl's in Secaucus (late the home of W H Allen, imported of Target Dr Who books) to exchange Ben's sheets. Then we went through the Lincoln Tunnel -- "Lincoln dug this with his bare hands" -- to the Algonquin Hotel. We had $13 cocktails (my biggest expense on the trip, actually) that were quite good. I had a drink named after Woolcott's radio show, Brian (Matt had gone back home and Ben to somewhere else) had one named Woolcott's suite, a Wit's End, I beleive, and Laurel a martini. We smoked in the Blue Bar.
Then we went to Grand Central Station ("You can look up now.") of which I was secretly thrilled to see because I used to have the great picture of it in my dorm for years. We walked from there to a store called H&M, with Llew and I about 20 paces behind Laurel and Ben, with me gawking at the buildings and Laura avoiding heating grates.
Did I mention it was pissing rain and 30 degrees? It was.
We nosed around the store, me attempting to thaw and dry simultaneously, and debated me buying another fuzzy hat. I didn't. After that, we hoofed it the flagship Banana Republic store. Usually, this would have had me in three kinds of extasy, but since I couldn't afford Jack, it was a bit pointless.
We opted next to go to a bookstore called Rizzoli's (I think) and walked some more. On the way -- quite unexpected, I might add -- we passed Rockefeller Center, complete with Tree. I was secretly floored, since nobody had even mentioned we'd pass it. I stared. We stopped at a Japanese bookstore, Kuni-something, where I read up an hamster care (I was doing it all wrong, apparently) and Hamtaro.
Then we hit Rizzoli's just before it closed and they kicked us out. They had "art" books by Bel Ami there. I wanted one.
We caught a taxi (my second) to Penn Station for Llew to meet her date. (Oooohhhhh... It went well). After we say them off, we took the PATH train back to Jersey City.
Laurel and I spent the rest of the night waiting up on Llew, watching a Vin Diesel movie (actualyl quite good) called Pitch Black and eating Chinese Food. When Laura got back -- ecstatic, as I predicted -- she was thoroughly debriefed. I fell asleep quite quickly again.
We woke up the next morning and stopped at a coffee shop called Grounds. I inadvertantly left the barista a $15 tip -- I had used a $20 to pay, then another single for the 4 cents change, telling him to keep the change. He looked at me funny, but said nothing. Once I got outside, I realized my mistake and dashed back in. I mean, he was cute, but niether he nor the chai was *that* good.
We met Brian on the way out and said our goodbyes. (Laura got a cool book from Brian.) I only left two rings, surprisingly. We only made one wrong turn on the way back to the NJ Turnpike (my fault, as I am an awful navigator) and zipped not stop back to Finksburg. They were open this time and we dropped of our books.
And I swiped a recording of Anne Rice's Merrick read by Derek Jacobi from a box marked "trash." Llew disappoved. We ate there again, at a Ruby Tuesday. I had a cheeseburger; Llew, a veggie burger.
Traffic outside DC was awful, as in the 3 hour delay variety. We missed the exit onto I-85 from I-95, but found a little cut through in Dinwiddie County, VA.
We got back about 11.30 and pretty much crashed. In the morning, Laura followed me to the Interstate as I drove to work.
Then I worked. I was quite dull, as life generally has been since then.
*I saw this with no irony.
**As I told Laura, don't ask, don't tell.
***These boys have the most gorgeous apartment I've ever seen. I'll probably go on about it at length soon.
Oh, this was long.
Regular service to resume soon.
For a concurrent view of this trip, please see Petullant.
So, I went away for New Years.
I was invited to a dinner party and after a little initial waffling, decided to go.
Ms Laura Llew drove up on the 30th. She was 2 hours early (she us Llaura Lleadfoot), so I didn't have time to make the appropriate Andes Mint Cookies and hot cocoa. Fortunately, this was the only disappointment on the trip. We went to Henry's and Lantern for drinks -- well, I drank -- and mooched around campus for a bit. We broke into Old Playmaker's Theater and nosed around as well for a bit.
Amusingly, we ran into Gordon, the Coolest Bartender in These Parts, while at Lantern. He told us how he thought BWWBR had MS till re realized he was just very drunk. Then I taught Gordon how to make Sazeracs. Then he made another one for me on the house that was better than the first.
We left early on the 31 to glamorous* Jersey City. Well, early for me, 10.30. We zipped through Durham and Richmond, got on I-95 and zipped though DC and left the South listening to The SantaLand Diairies We stopped outside Baltimore (in Finksburg) to drop off books to a Random House warehouse. It was closed, contrary to what had be promised the Llew. I left my own form of criticism**. Fortunately, this necessitiated a longer stay so we could drop off the books on the 2nd. About this point we saw a sign that created the expression "Jesus Doesn't Do Smack."
We ate our meal at a Bob Evans (I had a Chicken Cordon Blue Sandwich with tasty fries. Llew had an omelette without many of the listed ingredients.)
I fell asleep at one point, clutching the bag of CDs like a teddy. This was, apparently, quite Cute.
Then we got back in the car and zipped across Delaware (mean little state with mad tolls: I disapprove) and into Joisey. We got in Jersey City about 8.30. We found Brian's place and Llew managed to parallel park nearby. Now, the funny part was as we argued about who would ring the buzzer, people were watching. And, I suspect, laughing. But they let us in.
Brian and Matt, his boyfriend, were our hosts***. Will and his girlfriend Katy were there, and a little bit later Laurel appeared. We ate fondue and spicy sausage stew. I drank a rum and coke. We watched Trading Spaces (had never seen it and found it tedious) a Channel 4 show called Spaced (the newest trend? I dunno, I'd never heard of it but found it amusing). At midnight, we went outside and listened to fireworks we couldn't see and drank champagne and a fascinating raspberry champagne. After that, we watched an episode of The Gold Girls -- one where Rose has a triple bypass -- because Laurel had never seen the show before. We listened to Tatu (?), a group of Ukranian Teenage Lesbians covering "How Soon Is Now." Then Laura and I walked back to Laurel apartment, maybe three blocks away, where we were staying. I must have fallen asleep within 20 minutes, throwing myself on the floor when Llew claimed the couch. Or so I am reliably informed. This was 2 am.
We woke up late the next morning to have brunch at a place called The Coach House. It was filled with amusing Jersey stereotypes. There were old ladies with flourescent light blue eyeshadow and fake leopard fur shawls and toughs in a party of 10 trying to get in ("Who do you have to be to get in here, God?" "Jesus, party of 12!") I wanted them to continue talking despite the fact they were terribly loud and obnoxious. We also met Ben there. I had a Spicy Buffallo Chicken Sandwich. Llew had another omellette.
After bruch, we stopped off at a Kohl's in Secaucus (late the home of W H Allen, imported of Target Dr Who books) to exchange Ben's sheets. Then we went through the Lincoln Tunnel -- "Lincoln dug this with his bare hands" -- to the Algonquin Hotel. We had $13 cocktails (my biggest expense on the trip, actually) that were quite good. I had a drink named after Woolcott's radio show, Brian (Matt had gone back home and Ben to somewhere else) had one named Woolcott's suite, a Wit's End, I beleive, and Laurel a martini. We smoked in the Blue Bar.
Then we went to Grand Central Station ("You can look up now.") of which I was secretly thrilled to see because I used to have the great picture of it in my dorm for years. We walked from there to a store called H&M, with Llew and I about 20 paces behind Laurel and Ben, with me gawking at the buildings and Laura avoiding heating grates.
Did I mention it was pissing rain and 30 degrees? It was.
We nosed around the store, me attempting to thaw and dry simultaneously, and debated me buying another fuzzy hat. I didn't. After that, we hoofed it the flagship Banana Republic store. Usually, this would have had me in three kinds of extasy, but since I couldn't afford Jack, it was a bit pointless.
We opted next to go to a bookstore called Rizzoli's (I think) and walked some more. On the way -- quite unexpected, I might add -- we passed Rockefeller Center, complete with Tree. I was secretly floored, since nobody had even mentioned we'd pass it. I stared. We stopped at a Japanese bookstore, Kuni-something, where I read up an hamster care (I was doing it all wrong, apparently) and Hamtaro.
Then we hit Rizzoli's just before it closed and they kicked us out. They had "art" books by Bel Ami there. I wanted one.
We caught a taxi (my second) to Penn Station for Llew to meet her date. (Oooohhhhh... It went well). After we say them off, we took the PATH train back to Jersey City.
Laurel and I spent the rest of the night waiting up on Llew, watching a Vin Diesel movie (actualyl quite good) called Pitch Black and eating Chinese Food. When Laura got back -- ecstatic, as I predicted -- she was thoroughly debriefed. I fell asleep quite quickly again.
We woke up the next morning and stopped at a coffee shop called Grounds. I inadvertantly left the barista a $15 tip -- I had used a $20 to pay, then another single for the 4 cents change, telling him to keep the change. He looked at me funny, but said nothing. Once I got outside, I realized my mistake and dashed back in. I mean, he was cute, but niether he nor the chai was *that* good.
We met Brian on the way out and said our goodbyes. (Laura got a cool book from Brian.) I only left two rings, surprisingly. We only made one wrong turn on the way back to the NJ Turnpike (my fault, as I am an awful navigator) and zipped not stop back to Finksburg. They were open this time and we dropped of our books.
And I swiped a recording of Anne Rice's Merrick read by Derek Jacobi from a box marked "trash." Llew disappoved. We ate there again, at a Ruby Tuesday. I had a cheeseburger; Llew, a veggie burger.
Traffic outside DC was awful, as in the 3 hour delay variety. We missed the exit onto I-85 from I-95, but found a little cut through in Dinwiddie County, VA.
We got back about 11.30 and pretty much crashed. In the morning, Laura followed me to the Interstate as I drove to work.
Then I worked. I was quite dull, as life generally has been since then.
*I saw this with no irony.
**As I told Laura, don't ask, don't tell.
***These boys have the most gorgeous apartment I've ever seen. I'll probably go on about it at length soon.
Oh, this was long.
Regular service to resume soon.
"All that we ever see or seem..."
I hardly EVER have nightmares. My life is sufficiently fucked right now not to need subconscious nonsense, but apparently last night, my soul disagreed.
I had four. Seperate. Nightmares. In a row.
One, I absolutely cannot remember, but here are the rest:
Dream the First:
This is also dimly remembered, but involved a series of pyscho-trippy roller coasters with extremely steep hills and plunging depths and tunnels of gnashing teeth and lasers.
Also, each coaster train, I got on with the gang from Scooby-Doo. The animated Scooby Doo, it's worth noting, not the Sarah Michelle Gellar/Freddie Prinz, Jr. film ones.
I never got to sit next to Freddie.
Or Daphne, for that matter.
Dream the Second:
My driving with my parents in their early 90s Lincoln Towncar over this HUGE bridge. Apparently, it crosses a river between Arkansas and Kansas. (Yeah, I know: it was DREAM.) The ascent was very steep and on the first attempt, was so steep as to be vertical. The car stopped going forward and fell backwards.
The second attempt, we made it to the top only to find that the gap between the roadway and the top strut of the bridge was not enough to admit the car.
The bridge itself was highly reminiscent of the Delaware Memorial Bridge I crossed twice last week.
Dream the Third:
This was the most involved. I came home to my apartment to find BWWBR had thrown a huge, drug-infested party. In my bedroom (In the dream, utterly pimpin', unlike real life) was the wall fixture on chains from the cieling with dozens of candles on it. One of Matt's friends had lit all the candles and swung the fixture, spilling wax all over the carpet. This incensed me, and I tried to throw them all out, but couldn't.
I walked out to find the apartment was actually in my old dorm. But instead of being 10 stories, it was about 40. I walked to the top and found my Grnadmother there with a bunch of old ladies in bleacher seats. She tols me to set down.
The bleachers were on a square of floor that was on a rod that telescoped out maybe a quarter of a mile really fast. It turns out the dorm was where my Grnadmother's house is, and all the old ladies did this to see all the gardens around and to relax.
We zoomed around in several directions foe a while...
I have now remembered bits of Dream the Fourth
It was another I'm In High School dream, where I can't find my locker. This time, I knew which bank of locker it was, I just couldn't find the right combination lock. Oddly, I did not the combination.
(I can never remember combinations.)
There was something about being late to lunch, too, but I forget.
I hardly EVER have nightmares. My life is sufficiently fucked right now not to need subconscious nonsense, but apparently last night, my soul disagreed.
I had four. Seperate. Nightmares. In a row.
One, I absolutely cannot remember, but here are the rest:
Dream the First:
This is also dimly remembered, but involved a series of pyscho-trippy roller coasters with extremely steep hills and plunging depths and tunnels of gnashing teeth and lasers.
Also, each coaster train, I got on with the gang from Scooby-Doo. The animated Scooby Doo, it's worth noting, not the Sarah Michelle Gellar/Freddie Prinz, Jr. film ones.
I never got to sit next to Freddie.
Or Daphne, for that matter.
Dream the Second:
My driving with my parents in their early 90s Lincoln Towncar over this HUGE bridge. Apparently, it crosses a river between Arkansas and Kansas. (Yeah, I know: it was DREAM.) The ascent was very steep and on the first attempt, was so steep as to be vertical. The car stopped going forward and fell backwards.
The second attempt, we made it to the top only to find that the gap between the roadway and the top strut of the bridge was not enough to admit the car.
The bridge itself was highly reminiscent of the Delaware Memorial Bridge I crossed twice last week.
Dream the Third:
This was the most involved. I came home to my apartment to find BWWBR had thrown a huge, drug-infested party. In my bedroom (In the dream, utterly pimpin', unlike real life) was the wall fixture on chains from the cieling with dozens of candles on it. One of Matt's friends had lit all the candles and swung the fixture, spilling wax all over the carpet. This incensed me, and I tried to throw them all out, but couldn't.
I walked out to find the apartment was actually in my old dorm. But instead of being 10 stories, it was about 40. I walked to the top and found my Grnadmother there with a bunch of old ladies in bleacher seats. She tols me to set down.
The bleachers were on a square of floor that was on a rod that telescoped out maybe a quarter of a mile really fast. It turns out the dorm was where my Grnadmother's house is, and all the old ladies did this to see all the gardens around and to relax.
We zoomed around in several directions foe a while...
I have now remembered bits of Dream the Fourth
It was another I'm In High School dream, where I can't find my locker. This time, I knew which bank of locker it was, I just couldn't find the right combination lock. Oddly, I did not the combination.
(I can never remember combinations.)
There was something about being late to lunch, too, but I forget.
Tuesday, January 07, 2003
http://quizilla.com/users/kundavega/quizzes/Which%20Edward%20Gorey%20Book%20Are%20You%3F/">
Which Edward Gorey Book Are You?
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Which Edward Gorey Book Are You?
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Monday, December 30, 2002
Yet again...
Like it Needed to Be Said.
Which Member Of The Basic Eight Are You?
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That's right...
I wonder if GayDoug would do me.*
*I do not own a linen suit; I do own a a seersucker one, though.
Like it Needed to Be Said.
Which Member Of The Basic Eight Are You?
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That's right...
I wonder if GayDoug would do me.*
*I do not own a linen suit; I do own a a seersucker one, though.
Which Doctor Who monster are you?
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Okay, I promise this is the last one for a bit.
Silly as they seem, they were cool enemies the first time round.
And it's only appopriate I should get a third Doctor villian.
what doctor who are you?
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Aw yeah boyz!
I'm reversing the polarity of the neutron flow AS WE SPEAK!
Gimme my velvet coat!
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