there are a lot of things i want to talk about and im very tired, so ill start with the things from the cellar and move on to others more dificil as the level of my vodka diminishes.
a table of seven guys came in tonight to have drinks. They were very nice and after a few, asked me if there were any bars that have special events on sundays. they were from out of town and "swimmers" which i immediately freaked out about. they explained to me that they weren't exactly swimmers with an uneasy hesitation. I found out that they are in oxford to try out for the national underwater hockey league. I once again freaked out. I sat next to a guy on my trans pacific flight to australia who was traveling to sydney for an underwater hockey tourney. Ever since, ive never really known how it worked because i was so flighted out and nervous that i never asked the dude. These gentlemen took the time to explain it to me.
Flat bottomed pool. Participants wear fins and snorkel equipment. Weighted hockey puck and colored "hockey sticks" (to designate fellow team members) about 1.5 feet long. Rules are the same as in hockey...i think. actually, i have no idea, that didnt come up, im just assuming. And thats it. The one dude had on a tank top with a picture of a guy in a suit spread eagle underwater. The words read "Underwater Hockey...a spectator sport!" They do, by the by, have spectators...and a spectator booth...all underwater.
The thoughts were abound after i talked with these guys, but i can't get into it now. Just think about being submerged underwater...everyday. in class. smoking a smoke? eating broccoli. wow.
Also by the by, miami is wishing to create an underwater hockey team. if you're reading, you're a miamian and you're interested e-mail this guy @...ok, i now cannot find his name. ill get back to you on that one.
as they were closing out their check, i actually sat down to listen to a story after the gentleman on the end (1/2 dink dunkle, 1/2 erdinger) told me to "put in an ear" which is the greatest turn of phrase i have heard in a long time. (All, with the exception of 2 men, were from California:) ) Anyway, the story was pretty good, but the bigger point was that the kid who told it was a PHENOMENAL story teller. Which brings me to my next...story.
Brian is a doorman. If you ever go in, call him by name, say hello. He's stocky medium build, a good set of shoulders and a strong back. He has a very structured face and long dark hair that he wears in a ponytail with a second ponytail holder in the middle of the tail. Brian, is a fantastic story teller.
I warmed up to him after he started telling Ashley, Kristi and myself a story about a snowboarding accident. I picked up on the part where he said he listens to Crystal Method while boarding so he can feel bad ass and pretend he has his own theme song and video game on sega, so i asked him, since we appeared to have similar taste, if he had any other artists to offer me. He did, would you like to hear them? Ok, good.
Apollo 440
My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult
AK 1200
Aphrodite
Rollergurl (WHICH i put down because i've been listening to her since my soph year of HS AND i listened to her last night before i went out AND i find, from brian, that she's local cinci. how fucking cool is that)
Digital Psychosis (also local)
Front 242
he's smart. he's mad smart. he's the kinda person you meet and immediately think, this child has a photographic memory. he's also a bit of an idiot savant, i say, because he also has very heartwarming moments of intense ADD.
i ask him if he dl's music. he says no. immediately i feel bad. i have little morals i have discovered. he explains to me that dling music for free is just bad, the artist or the people that the artist must pay see nothing. thats not cool. But then we get into a conversation about paying for dl's...such as itune's music store. This is where savant shines.
He takes a guest check (the thing i take orders on) and starts writing and talking.
Disc
Case
Cover Art
Rec Studio
Factory (to make cover art)
Press (to print art)
Wholesaler
Retailer
Corporate
Royalties
he says, it costs approx 15$ to buy a cd. Itunes wishes that you pay 1$/song. He finds that this price is a little high. Why? Lets look at that list again.
If you are DLing a song, then your list looks a little more like this:
Rec Studio
Corporate
Royalties
You buy your own disc and case. You dont get the cover art with the song, and even if you did, you print it out on your own PC which means that you can eliminate the factory and press. The wholesaler is gone, the retailer is gone. Corporate peeps are apple people and royalties, i think i understood this correctly is money that actually goes to the artist. So then he breaks it down like this:
you buy a cd with approx 15 songs for 15$. iTunes charges 1$ a song, which on the surface, makes sense. (not to interupt the flow, but i have missing links on my guest check of notes here, so i may be making this last part up...feel free to comment with corrections if you understand this and you understand it differently.)
.05$ = cost to produce single songs in rec studio
.25$ = money owned to corporate (apple for hosting song)
.10$ = royalties (money to artist)
-------
.40$/song
which to brian, and now to myself, is a happy medium. Pirating music is obviously a big deal, legally and morally and dude, artists should be making money for their living. But apple is kinda exploiting the less stigmatic way of DLing. This would be a more reasonable price/song.
He said this as well, which i liked, because thinking of things on the extreme scale shakes you a little more.
Brttiney Spears releases a new album in Hong Kong or Russia or somewhere on the other side of the world in an eastern time zone and some dude or duddet buys this album. He/she brings it home to their PC which just so happens to be hooked up to a fantastic server. They DL to their PC, upload it to the internet and share it among other fantastic servers. Now its out and EVERYONE is DLing Brittany Spears' brand new album @ 7-12 MB/sec. What does this mean? It means that within 24 hours, the entire world will have a copy of Brittany Spears' new album. What does this really mean? She sold exactly ONE copy and made .10$. 10 cents. Granted i'm all for miss slut ass to be put out of business, but substitute your favorite artist and you're shot in the heart.
His bigger passion was to have iTunes create a monthly fee for customers, allowing them to have access to anything they want for say, 20$/month, kinda like you would do at a video store. I thought this was a fantastic idea. People love to feel that sense of freedom. They put the money down in the beginning and forget about it....set it and forget it. It's kinda like paying your rent and not having to worry about it for the next 30 days. He worked it out to 240$/year and ending up with 18 new fantastic discs spinning in your boom box and car stereos.
You know the scene in office space where Peter has a meeting with the Bobs and he says....
"It's a problem of motivation, all right? Now if I work my ass off and Initech ships a few extra units, I don't see another dime, so where's the motivation?"
that's the problem here. we have to motivate people to stop stealing music. Computer people know how to get around the system. They will always find a way to not get caught. Its the happy medium. Its the give a little, get a lot more, and at the same time, feel good about doing the right thing. Everyone wins. Yea!
I told him that he should write a letter to apple. They are looking for suggestions. Jesus, they PAY people to make these kinda suggestions. Maybe I'll do it myself. Actually, i think i will. Actually, i will. I will.
The other thoughts of the evening are far less positive and not put together AT ALL at the present time. I'll leave you to comment (please?) about the problems of the suggested so i can clean up the presentation before its shipped off to apple.com.
oh, btw, Ron White. Comedian. Hilarious. (His title routine...Brian recited the entire thing to me at the bar...like i said, savant). I laughed belly, cant catch my breath style and thought, riding the comedown, there's a particular someone that i would really enjoy watching Mr. White with.
goodnite and good luck :)
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
everyone should remember that alcohol is a drug
do we make judgements too quickly?
but do we feel inspired at the same tempo?
big thought for a small circumstance.
im coming home from a night of hard work (with good surplus!) and partial drinking. So after a vodka peppa and v8, i browse my new home's dvd collections. The only two i narrowed it down to were jay and silent bob's empire strikes back....or reality bites. she knows why i picked the latter. im thinking, especially based on projected points (or stories) that this is going to simply be a correspondence between you and i, sisterhead.
back to the thesis. its my sister. everyone has always said....wynona rider. i remember mermaids...with cher...who is mom, really. sexy but not cookie cutter model attirbutes, and with attitude...a cut or dry, this is the way it is...at least what ive experienced. and ethan hawk...(there is no secret handshake) blah stigma at this day and age but, meg, im sorry it took me so long to understand (but there is an IQ prerequisite).
based on the inspirations. if you own the dvd, as most dvds or vhs' you open with short credits. The first is...Field of Dreams. Enough said. My father used to spend his sunny days in the back yard by himself playing out all the positions to....well, what was his team? an all star team? maybe he can leave me a no\te. If he archived, he'd be the beginning of what we now call "fantasy baseball". Regardless, can i say, i've always liked to meet my granpa.
o and before i forget...dvd version....quatum leap. yes, available on dvd. hello???? im only cool because of my sister.
saturday august 27 2005 (sat early morning)
and you know what that means
first on my mind, i want to talk about
we're smart...we're able to get what we want...
most of the time.
what is love? attraction? infatuation?
i'm sorry, ive found the three to be in the same category.
i called steven after work because i called him before work to ask him about wireless internet. he answered like he does....and all i can think about is aftyn describing it as somekinda nonsense babble. damnit, i lost her exact phrasing, but i liked it and more importantly, i thought of it like that. she's brilliant, and at one point, attracted to his elusiveness....so what the fuck? why couldn't i have met and realized this 3 years ago...instead of noticing it now?
im different this year. I am weary of the first couple weeks....the excitement, the energy, the presumptuous goals for the year....so im trying not to set up the fall...but i still feel different. My head is so clear. and my roomates are amazing. and i have a job. and i dont have to worry about anything.
Stress is better than boredom, but i can't find anything better than stress that falls into the same responsibility way of life. Comfort? it seems too easy? Because i feel that...amy said today..."i can't believe that we've only lived here a week...feels like three months." I agreed....i was having the same thoughts wandering through the house today.
life has to be about the pain...at least for me. the good parts always come at the end, the comfortable parts always come the time before its over. its the regret question...yes, things could have been different, but i dont regret any of them. it does not wake me in the night, like an amputee feeling the phantom limb. Maybe its because i havent felt it before, it hasn't been a part of me. Or maybe we're always changing, maybe we're just the limb trying to find a body.
Paul in the kitchen says organization has always been my problem too. You just have to find a way to arrange yourself around the organization. DAMNIT DAMNIT three times again...like I always said, the best things can only be said once. Which is why, if you can't love yourself for anything else, just love the fact that you are the only one that heard it the first time
even if you dont remember it.
but do we feel inspired at the same tempo?
big thought for a small circumstance.
im coming home from a night of hard work (with good surplus!) and partial drinking. So after a vodka peppa and v8, i browse my new home's dvd collections. The only two i narrowed it down to were jay and silent bob's empire strikes back....or reality bites. she knows why i picked the latter. im thinking, especially based on projected points (or stories) that this is going to simply be a correspondence between you and i, sisterhead.
back to the thesis. its my sister. everyone has always said....wynona rider. i remember mermaids...with cher...who is mom, really. sexy but not cookie cutter model attirbutes, and with attitude...a cut or dry, this is the way it is...at least what ive experienced. and ethan hawk...(there is no secret handshake) blah stigma at this day and age but, meg, im sorry it took me so long to understand (but there is an IQ prerequisite).
based on the inspirations. if you own the dvd, as most dvds or vhs' you open with short credits. The first is...Field of Dreams. Enough said. My father used to spend his sunny days in the back yard by himself playing out all the positions to....well, what was his team? an all star team? maybe he can leave me a no\te. If he archived, he'd be the beginning of what we now call "fantasy baseball". Regardless, can i say, i've always liked to meet my granpa.
o and before i forget...dvd version....quatum leap. yes, available on dvd. hello???? im only cool because of my sister.
saturday august 27 2005 (sat early morning)
and you know what that means
first on my mind, i want to talk about
we're smart...we're able to get what we want...
most of the time.
what is love? attraction? infatuation?
i'm sorry, ive found the three to be in the same category.
i called steven after work because i called him before work to ask him about wireless internet. he answered like he does....and all i can think about is aftyn describing it as somekinda nonsense babble. damnit, i lost her exact phrasing, but i liked it and more importantly, i thought of it like that. she's brilliant, and at one point, attracted to his elusiveness....so what the fuck? why couldn't i have met and realized this 3 years ago...instead of noticing it now?
im different this year. I am weary of the first couple weeks....the excitement, the energy, the presumptuous goals for the year....so im trying not to set up the fall...but i still feel different. My head is so clear. and my roomates are amazing. and i have a job. and i dont have to worry about anything.
Stress is better than boredom, but i can't find anything better than stress that falls into the same responsibility way of life. Comfort? it seems too easy? Because i feel that...amy said today..."i can't believe that we've only lived here a week...feels like three months." I agreed....i was having the same thoughts wandering through the house today.
life has to be about the pain...at least for me. the good parts always come at the end, the comfortable parts always come the time before its over. its the regret question...yes, things could have been different, but i dont regret any of them. it does not wake me in the night, like an amputee feeling the phantom limb. Maybe its because i havent felt it before, it hasn't been a part of me. Or maybe we're always changing, maybe we're just the limb trying to find a body.
Paul in the kitchen says organization has always been my problem too. You just have to find a way to arrange yourself around the organization. DAMNIT DAMNIT three times again...like I always said, the best things can only be said once. Which is why, if you can't love yourself for anything else, just love the fact that you are the only one that heard it the first time
even if you dont remember it.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Theme of the Day: Shaq's acting and singing career?
i have major research to do for design ideas...for 116's new beer pong table, so these thoughts are going to be scattered and far less than profound.
a few things about friends first.
i'm so happy cuz today i found my friends
vanilla sky
probably thom yorke
why. why must some find friends as shallow play things? Superficial, ungracious, fake plastic friends. is it scar tissue? obnoxious feminists just really got stood up on prom night? the angry guitarist had an acne problem and got rejected by his true love in the third grade? i just wonder why. because friends, as people, are great.
i have comparison problems. i went to see steve and fish tonight. as soon as i walked through the door i felt it coming. Feelings of misplacement, inadequacy, stifled by awe of gods at work. They're only human, but they're really really good at being human...you know, really good with brains and thumbs.
There are some that challenge you and some that take care of you. I haven't had a female friend in awhile, at least not one i saw on an everyday basis and surely not four at the same time. I just have trouble figuring out why i find that the ones that challenge me are the ones that make me feel insecure and the ones that make me feel insecure are men. (Besides the obvious, damnit, that chick is so much hotter than me...which really isn't a challenge, but rather a simple statement of fact. opinion. ok fuck it, its just all whacked perspective) ANYWAY...does this teeter on the biological makeup conversation megs? Are we back there? Should we just accept? Appreciate the way a woman will care for anything that breathes and accept that we're looking for men to help bring us out of the dream we've been drowning in? I'm not talking about love, im talking about art.
To stop where i started, im thankful. I'm thankful that amy and neely and amanda and meredith are here everyday...to ask me how work was, to know my birthday, to just chat, simply, like the weather. i'm thankful that fish and steve and johnny are insanely intense and to use johnny's term of phrase...like disjunctive electronic music that stimulates parts of my brain that i dont get to use everyday. im revved up. thank you.
there are moments that pause when i think of all the things ive done, all the things i do, and all the things i will do. i feel a soft wash of pride. but i cannot help that i desire to be everything; to see everyone and and crave to do it too.
245 babies are born worldwide every 60 seconds
245x60min = 14,700 babies/hr
14,700x24hrs = 352,800 babies/day
352,800x365days = 128,772,000 babies/year
that's a lot of fucking inspiration
i did the same multistep last night with the money i might make.
perhaps this is the difference between inspiration and self-deprecation.
but
pain art life
lovely.
a few things about friends first.
i'm so happy cuz today i found my friends
vanilla sky
probably thom yorke
why. why must some find friends as shallow play things? Superficial, ungracious, fake plastic friends. is it scar tissue? obnoxious feminists just really got stood up on prom night? the angry guitarist had an acne problem and got rejected by his true love in the third grade? i just wonder why. because friends, as people, are great.
i have comparison problems. i went to see steve and fish tonight. as soon as i walked through the door i felt it coming. Feelings of misplacement, inadequacy, stifled by awe of gods at work. They're only human, but they're really really good at being human...you know, really good with brains and thumbs.
There are some that challenge you and some that take care of you. I haven't had a female friend in awhile, at least not one i saw on an everyday basis and surely not four at the same time. I just have trouble figuring out why i find that the ones that challenge me are the ones that make me feel insecure and the ones that make me feel insecure are men. (Besides the obvious, damnit, that chick is so much hotter than me...which really isn't a challenge, but rather a simple statement of fact. opinion. ok fuck it, its just all whacked perspective) ANYWAY...does this teeter on the biological makeup conversation megs? Are we back there? Should we just accept? Appreciate the way a woman will care for anything that breathes and accept that we're looking for men to help bring us out of the dream we've been drowning in? I'm not talking about love, im talking about art.
To stop where i started, im thankful. I'm thankful that amy and neely and amanda and meredith are here everyday...to ask me how work was, to know my birthday, to just chat, simply, like the weather. i'm thankful that fish and steve and johnny are insanely intense and to use johnny's term of phrase...like disjunctive electronic music that stimulates parts of my brain that i dont get to use everyday. im revved up. thank you.
there are moments that pause when i think of all the things ive done, all the things i do, and all the things i will do. i feel a soft wash of pride. but i cannot help that i desire to be everything; to see everyone and and crave to do it too.
245 babies are born worldwide every 60 seconds
245x60min = 14,700 babies/hr
14,700x24hrs = 352,800 babies/day
352,800x365days = 128,772,000 babies/year
that's a lot of fucking inspiration
i did the same multistep last night with the money i might make.
perhaps this is the difference between inspiration and self-deprecation.
but
pain art life
lovely.
Monday, August 22, 2005
OXTURD, oHIo
i'm pretty good with words,
ive decided.
what im not good with is words
and alcohol.
we did these leg stretches in yoga (the ones where you lie on your back and use a long belt to pull pain out of the air and into your body) and when you put your stretched leg back down next to the unstretched one, it feels, by comparison, that leg has lost its container. It feels as though it has oozed out of the curvy calf baking pan and is now floating freely with the universe like an orange robe on a monk in the mountain breeze. What all this means, is that my mouth, in its entirety, finds this sensation when im drinking. But the experience is less than peaceful.
Philosophical theory speak should not enter into my conversation when my mouthparts are not working because philosophical theory speak should not ever enter into my conversation. There is a small elephant inside my head these days that asks, "why? what exactly are you learning here? more importantly, what the hell are you talking about? shut up. just shut up, ok? you wonder why people keep away from you at social gatherings? you're strange. i mean, im purple, but you're just fucked."
and its true.
because i'm pretty good with words,
but not while im drinking.
ive decided.
what im not good with is words
and alcohol.
we did these leg stretches in yoga (the ones where you lie on your back and use a long belt to pull pain out of the air and into your body) and when you put your stretched leg back down next to the unstretched one, it feels, by comparison, that leg has lost its container. It feels as though it has oozed out of the curvy calf baking pan and is now floating freely with the universe like an orange robe on a monk in the mountain breeze. What all this means, is that my mouth, in its entirety, finds this sensation when im drinking. But the experience is less than peaceful.
Philosophical theory speak should not enter into my conversation when my mouthparts are not working because philosophical theory speak should not ever enter into my conversation. There is a small elephant inside my head these days that asks, "why? what exactly are you learning here? more importantly, what the hell are you talking about? shut up. just shut up, ok? you wonder why people keep away from you at social gatherings? you're strange. i mean, im purple, but you're just fucked."
and its true.
because i'm pretty good with words,
but not while im drinking.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
one more true tale from the heart
18 sucks, really.
i mean sure, its the next big step and everythings all exciting. For most of you, you just graduated from high school but that just means you have to go and reestablish your popularity in a place much bigger and far more elite than public high school.
You get to vote, but seems the world keeps giving birth to more and more assholes and they also get to vote and they vote for fellow assholes. There's a mirror in front of you and one behind and you're standing next to an asshole, but there's only one of you and an infinite number of assholes. It's really disheartening.
Speaking of hearts, by law you get to kill yourself with smoking, but you've already been doing that for 1,2, 12 years already, so the only cool thing about that is your attitude when you get to walk into a gas station without your hands shaking.
Then there's the gyno.
A woman is at risk of cervical cancer if she:
has sex before the age of 18
has multiple sex partners or has sex with promiscuous partners
history of a STD
smokes
well hell, 3 out of 4 aint bad.
I'm an open person, but i dont really feel a NEED to discuss some personal matters. So I'm writing this for a reason and if you're reading it and it applies, ill kill you myself if you dont listen.
I never went to the gyno or had a pap smear when i turned 18. Nor did i have one when i was 19 or 20, nor did i have any intentions of having one when i turned 21. But one day, earlier in the summer i decided, hell, i should do this. I'd never before felt so adult...mostly because i keep failing to recognize that i am one.
My doctor called me back. She said there were some "abnormal" cells in the results. Of course they're abnormal, they're mine. So i was referred to a gyno and i went today. He told me that they're at a precancerous stage and that based on the result of the next test they will either be monitored by pap tests taken every three months or i'd have to have surgery to remove parts of my little infected cervix.
No, i'm not going to die, i'm not even going to get sick. Yes, i can still have children if, god forbid, my estrogen finally kicks in and i want them. But my point is, GO. GO PLEASE. I'll go with you. I'll make crude jokes in the lobby and probably use the plastic vagina model as a puppet. You'll never say Aunt Flow again without bursting into laughter. I'm just thinking how lucky i am that i finally decided to go and that i wasn't served up a big plate of hate your fate life in the end. Cervical cancer is asymptomatic remember, so the only persistent nagging you'll have will come from me.
love you women
i mean sure, its the next big step and everythings all exciting. For most of you, you just graduated from high school but that just means you have to go and reestablish your popularity in a place much bigger and far more elite than public high school.
You get to vote, but seems the world keeps giving birth to more and more assholes and they also get to vote and they vote for fellow assholes. There's a mirror in front of you and one behind and you're standing next to an asshole, but there's only one of you and an infinite number of assholes. It's really disheartening.
Speaking of hearts, by law you get to kill yourself with smoking, but you've already been doing that for 1,2, 12 years already, so the only cool thing about that is your attitude when you get to walk into a gas station without your hands shaking.
Then there's the gyno.
A woman is at risk of cervical cancer if she:
has sex before the age of 18
has multiple sex partners or has sex with promiscuous partners
history of a STD
smokes
well hell, 3 out of 4 aint bad.
I'm an open person, but i dont really feel a NEED to discuss some personal matters. So I'm writing this for a reason and if you're reading it and it applies, ill kill you myself if you dont listen.
I never went to the gyno or had a pap smear when i turned 18. Nor did i have one when i was 19 or 20, nor did i have any intentions of having one when i turned 21. But one day, earlier in the summer i decided, hell, i should do this. I'd never before felt so adult...mostly because i keep failing to recognize that i am one.
My doctor called me back. She said there were some "abnormal" cells in the results. Of course they're abnormal, they're mine. So i was referred to a gyno and i went today. He told me that they're at a precancerous stage and that based on the result of the next test they will either be monitored by pap tests taken every three months or i'd have to have surgery to remove parts of my little infected cervix.
No, i'm not going to die, i'm not even going to get sick. Yes, i can still have children if, god forbid, my estrogen finally kicks in and i want them. But my point is, GO. GO PLEASE. I'll go with you. I'll make crude jokes in the lobby and probably use the plastic vagina model as a puppet. You'll never say Aunt Flow again without bursting into laughter. I'm just thinking how lucky i am that i finally decided to go and that i wasn't served up a big plate of hate your fate life in the end. Cervical cancer is asymptomatic remember, so the only persistent nagging you'll have will come from me.
love you women
Monday, August 08, 2005
giddy bitty baby betty
i had a good weekend.
i would like to ignore the alcohol part of this happy equation. I'd like to believe that this is a karma thing rather than a chemical thing.
sarah smurf came to camp on friday, our last day.
The girls cried. Not because of sarah, but because it was our last day. I remembered Camp Luther when Christy and i cried the whole way home. I still have the bandana Ace gave me. Such a safe place. I love camp.
So we cleaned after it was all over and I found Tippy understands my strange finger sensitivities. if i get dirt under my fingernails, i freak out. My skin turns white right into a straight jacket and i try to bust the fuck out. Then, you know the shiveryness you get when someone scrapes their fingernails across a chalk board? I feel that in my two front teeth.
anyway, no one understood this before i met Tippy. this made me happy.
i left camp and got home and made yummy caprese salad and a lemon ginger martini with that succulent grey goose and i noticed that they spell grey with an e and so do i and no one else in the world does, so once again, i found a friend in common. When i was relaxing outside with my first smoke of the week (from a pack that i found in one of my boxes from oxy) and i marveled at how incredibly sexy smoke is and what a shame tis that its so damn bad for you. Then i thought, sarah should call me and what do you know my phone rings and i believe i have telepathic powers and that i really and truly am a special creature.
After i tell sarah that i'll drive and twice after i stop and go What did i just say? and catorce after a red stripe (which is from jamaica, did you know that? I didn't know that) and some shots of tequila, i get ready and, yes ill just say it, i look so cute cute. Ok, maybe im not a special creature. Anyway I pick sarah up and she says, amp tell me stories, which is a line i use on absolutely everyone so im a little taken aback. I haven't seen sarah in a year plus, so like perfect and normal my brain floods and empties itself all at the same time. It's quite the paradoxical genius, my brain. So i say i dont have any and i insist that she tell me stories instead, which she does...for a long time. They're the kind of stories where names are used with such a casualness that you become very preoccupied that these people are acquaintances of your own and you have now become the most hideous person because you have misplaced them in your social repertoire. I convince myself that no one is capable of following this conversation and no, you're not supposed to remember that same guy from 12 years ago that you never once in your life met. Then i begin to wonder if i am ever really listening to anyone when they talk to me, and i feel incredibly guilty about this but i swear its not my fault, i can't help it...and all the while sarah is still talking.
So we go to McDuffy's on 111th and Pulaski. I like the place, even if its a little trashy. I am a snob. I really am. I begin to think about Miami and i begin to irrationally compare it to state schools and this bar and how i really fucked up such a good place. For being such an analyst, im a really shallow little shit. Anyway, Sarah's friend liz comes and the girl is ridiculously gorgeous. She's got this square petit face and this skin that you'd love to make your bed sheets out of. She has a perfect mouth and these gorgeous teeth that held her Marlboro menthol 100s and i really loved her for that. And she was funny. Not witty funny, but you know, cute girl funny. God, it really does work like that doesn't it. So i was starting to be less bored. That was nice.
Anyway, we got to dancing. Not this girl and i, but everyone. I sang red neck woman for my father and then we stopped dancing. Sarah found the rest of her guy friends and she did her own little dance around them. When we were sitting earlier, she said we should play 20 questions. It's the most efficient way to get to know someone. I liked this idea. She asked me what my most embarrassing moment was and i quickly decided that i didn't like this game anymore. but i answered her anyway. I briefly told her about how i was going to make my debut in the manipulative business world when i joined a pyramid scheme by giving away my mother's credit card number. SPECIAL CREATURE. I couldn't seem to find any good questions so i decided on what her biggest regret was. She said she wished she wasn't so naive with men. This made sense after i got her "briefing" on all the men she's been with in the past 20 years. My point is im looking at her now, flirting with all these guys and i wonder if this is the thing for her that she can't help, that its not her fault.
How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb?
Only one. But the lightbulb has to really WANT the change.
I said i had a good weekend, I dont think I'm getting that across. For the next two hours i danced. I sweated my face off. I broke my necklace I was bumpin so hard. WHY? Because they played:
Toca's Miracle by Fragma
and a bunch of other really bad 90s eurodance music from my zombie nation convertible way too much anorexia and pot days and knew all the words and i was the happiest kitty in the place. I also quite enjoyed doing body rolls to Pour Some Sugar on Me which is terrible and they ended the night with James' laid and that was great. So i decided im still a kid with way too much energy. Its decidedly so that im gonna have to start using it again. I haven't had that much fun in awhile.
when i got home at 230, dad still wasn't home and that made me laugh. then i pulled out all my cds that have been at school for the summer and put in Talkie Walkie, which i listened to on repeat while in Australia. So im mildly drunk, freshly showered, my head filled with pictures of the southern night sky through the mesh of my mozzie dome and im deliriously bloody fucking giddy.
i woke up at 7, went to work, cleaned, killed a mouse with a rock, said farewell and came home again. Then i laid out in the sun all day and read harry potter, took a nap. when i woke up dad was gone again so i put the chambord the grey goose and some vanilla on the counter and realized again what a snob i am and how those two bottles put together could buy food to feed a small family for a month. Inspired by the energy of last night i searched and found! my DJ Micro mix cd and blasted the shit out of that for an hour. i gave myself a crap'e french manicure, found my green pants which were also at school for the summer and put those green pants baby blue and red all together in my favorite fashion color combination of all time. I decided i looked even cuter than i did the previous night so i went to David Delach's for his farewell party but before i did i went once again to my boxed treasures from oxy and found my "hang in there bear" from mom to give to Dave because i love him but im a terrible friend because i haven't talked to him in months. When i arrived to my surprise i found mr DS and cj and while we were running around dave's house looking for things to put up our noses i took a big happy deep breath to remember how much god damn fun i had with these fools in high school. And that was so because they're smart snobs, just like me.
I got drunk and attempted to tell puder we're going on an expedition to nevada to witness burning man. I talked to Johnson for a long time and convinced him to smoke and show me his new house. Coulda been the array of shit that was working its way through my system but the castle tripped me out. Massive. Gorgeous. Too many bathrooms. I read some very interesting newspaper articles written 12 years ago on monday april 12th (thats my birthday). I of course found this to be absolutely mind blowing. Then there was too much shit in my head so i had to get up and do something. I proceeded to pull an audrey hepburn down the front stairs, in the kitchen, dining room. Pointed toes and everything. ballerina moves in the dark, everyone sleeping. I figured since it was the johnson's that there were security cameras taping this. i did not care. if you have seen this house, you understand its power, especially for a wanna be theater queen. I finally left, had a very very long and paranoid drive home. But it was 5ish and the sky was turning that faded morning blue and the orange looked dusty and it was beautiful and i wondered when steven was getting home. Nick Drake put me to sleep. I was filled.
Dad and i went to Ruffled Feathers to play golf with dale on sunday. Well, i didn't play, i just drove the cart around and drank vodka lemonades. I love golf. I think its the most hilarious thing in the world. It's something about the golf carts, the way they drive - like little wind up toys. And the degree of comparison between all those acres of land and that little tiny ball that old men in their silly outfits keep running after. It's more than entertaining to see the focus in the approach, the time that passes before the ball is struck, or rather "chunked" then the resistance to throw the one of 1200 clubs these kids carry around against a tree. And the etiquette. I LOVE golf etiquette. And the terminology. Fabulous! 90 degree cart rules and slopes and doglegs and bump and run and hey dann, want me to mark it? Dad and i decided we'd develop should make 12 hole courses. The game takes 5 fucking hours to play. 5 hours. Thats redonkulous. But like i said, i just drove the cart around and drank vodka lemonades.
Dad and i went to McDonalds for dinner. I thought that was funny. And it was 11 dollars. That just seems wrong. So then, despite our russian floridian buzz and sun lethargy, we drove to LaGrange to see...Mr Blotto! Dad and i have been talking about doing this forever. It was nice that it finally got done. Plus, LaGrange is cute. Plus i was supposedly mad at him for awhile, so this was our lets hang out and be friends again ok? day. all is well with the world.
SO THEN, we get home and im still thirsty so i drink aussie cab and talk to jodo for the first time in forever and that makes me wonderously happy because jodo always has good things to talk about. And then i chat with Cat for the first time in forever and that makes me wondrously happy too. and then kellen comes online which is so rare and we chat and i discover that he has also sent me another e-mail and that is awesome because he letters are fantastic. AND THEN while im pissing on the pot my phone rings, which is also rare, and good heavens its my sweet peached stello calling to tell me he's home from xinprovenceois but all i remember from that conversation is me saying something how he's still the same and nothings changed and he gasps and retorts nothings changed?? Aparently, air franc'e does something to you. oui oui.
so thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn i got sufjan stevens in my plugs and i light the tiki torch next to my hammock outside and the northern sky and i treat myself to a ciggy binge and im just, well drunk, but since this is a story about karma and not chemicals, im very very happy.
i would like to ignore the alcohol part of this happy equation. I'd like to believe that this is a karma thing rather than a chemical thing.
sarah smurf came to camp on friday, our last day.
The girls cried. Not because of sarah, but because it was our last day. I remembered Camp Luther when Christy and i cried the whole way home. I still have the bandana Ace gave me. Such a safe place. I love camp.
So we cleaned after it was all over and I found Tippy understands my strange finger sensitivities. if i get dirt under my fingernails, i freak out. My skin turns white right into a straight jacket and i try to bust the fuck out. Then, you know the shiveryness you get when someone scrapes their fingernails across a chalk board? I feel that in my two front teeth.
anyway, no one understood this before i met Tippy. this made me happy.
i left camp and got home and made yummy caprese salad and a lemon ginger martini with that succulent grey goose and i noticed that they spell grey with an e and so do i and no one else in the world does, so once again, i found a friend in common. When i was relaxing outside with my first smoke of the week (from a pack that i found in one of my boxes from oxy) and i marveled at how incredibly sexy smoke is and what a shame tis that its so damn bad for you. Then i thought, sarah should call me and what do you know my phone rings and i believe i have telepathic powers and that i really and truly am a special creature.
After i tell sarah that i'll drive and twice after i stop and go What did i just say? and catorce after a red stripe (which is from jamaica, did you know that? I didn't know that) and some shots of tequila, i get ready and, yes ill just say it, i look so cute cute. Ok, maybe im not a special creature. Anyway I pick sarah up and she says, amp tell me stories, which is a line i use on absolutely everyone so im a little taken aback. I haven't seen sarah in a year plus, so like perfect and normal my brain floods and empties itself all at the same time. It's quite the paradoxical genius, my brain. So i say i dont have any and i insist that she tell me stories instead, which she does...for a long time. They're the kind of stories where names are used with such a casualness that you become very preoccupied that these people are acquaintances of your own and you have now become the most hideous person because you have misplaced them in your social repertoire. I convince myself that no one is capable of following this conversation and no, you're not supposed to remember that same guy from 12 years ago that you never once in your life met. Then i begin to wonder if i am ever really listening to anyone when they talk to me, and i feel incredibly guilty about this but i swear its not my fault, i can't help it...and all the while sarah is still talking.
So we go to McDuffy's on 111th and Pulaski. I like the place, even if its a little trashy. I am a snob. I really am. I begin to think about Miami and i begin to irrationally compare it to state schools and this bar and how i really fucked up such a good place. For being such an analyst, im a really shallow little shit. Anyway, Sarah's friend liz comes and the girl is ridiculously gorgeous. She's got this square petit face and this skin that you'd love to make your bed sheets out of. She has a perfect mouth and these gorgeous teeth that held her Marlboro menthol 100s and i really loved her for that. And she was funny. Not witty funny, but you know, cute girl funny. God, it really does work like that doesn't it. So i was starting to be less bored. That was nice.
Anyway, we got to dancing. Not this girl and i, but everyone. I sang red neck woman for my father and then we stopped dancing. Sarah found the rest of her guy friends and she did her own little dance around them. When we were sitting earlier, she said we should play 20 questions. It's the most efficient way to get to know someone. I liked this idea. She asked me what my most embarrassing moment was and i quickly decided that i didn't like this game anymore. but i answered her anyway. I briefly told her about how i was going to make my debut in the manipulative business world when i joined a pyramid scheme by giving away my mother's credit card number. SPECIAL CREATURE. I couldn't seem to find any good questions so i decided on what her biggest regret was. She said she wished she wasn't so naive with men. This made sense after i got her "briefing" on all the men she's been with in the past 20 years. My point is im looking at her now, flirting with all these guys and i wonder if this is the thing for her that she can't help, that its not her fault.
How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb?
Only one. But the lightbulb has to really WANT the change.
I said i had a good weekend, I dont think I'm getting that across. For the next two hours i danced. I sweated my face off. I broke my necklace I was bumpin so hard. WHY? Because they played:
Toca's Miracle by Fragma
and a bunch of other really bad 90s eurodance music from my zombie nation convertible way too much anorexia and pot days and knew all the words and i was the happiest kitty in the place. I also quite enjoyed doing body rolls to Pour Some Sugar on Me which is terrible and they ended the night with James' laid and that was great. So i decided im still a kid with way too much energy. Its decidedly so that im gonna have to start using it again. I haven't had that much fun in awhile.
when i got home at 230, dad still wasn't home and that made me laugh. then i pulled out all my cds that have been at school for the summer and put in Talkie Walkie, which i listened to on repeat while in Australia. So im mildly drunk, freshly showered, my head filled with pictures of the southern night sky through the mesh of my mozzie dome and im deliriously bloody fucking giddy.
i woke up at 7, went to work, cleaned, killed a mouse with a rock, said farewell and came home again. Then i laid out in the sun all day and read harry potter, took a nap. when i woke up dad was gone again so i put the chambord the grey goose and some vanilla on the counter and realized again what a snob i am and how those two bottles put together could buy food to feed a small family for a month. Inspired by the energy of last night i searched and found! my DJ Micro mix cd and blasted the shit out of that for an hour. i gave myself a crap'e french manicure, found my green pants which were also at school for the summer and put those green pants baby blue and red all together in my favorite fashion color combination of all time. I decided i looked even cuter than i did the previous night so i went to David Delach's for his farewell party but before i did i went once again to my boxed treasures from oxy and found my "hang in there bear" from mom to give to Dave because i love him but im a terrible friend because i haven't talked to him in months. When i arrived to my surprise i found mr DS and cj and while we were running around dave's house looking for things to put up our noses i took a big happy deep breath to remember how much god damn fun i had with these fools in high school. And that was so because they're smart snobs, just like me.
I got drunk and attempted to tell puder we're going on an expedition to nevada to witness burning man. I talked to Johnson for a long time and convinced him to smoke and show me his new house. Coulda been the array of shit that was working its way through my system but the castle tripped me out. Massive. Gorgeous. Too many bathrooms. I read some very interesting newspaper articles written 12 years ago on monday april 12th (thats my birthday). I of course found this to be absolutely mind blowing. Then there was too much shit in my head so i had to get up and do something. I proceeded to pull an audrey hepburn down the front stairs, in the kitchen, dining room. Pointed toes and everything. ballerina moves in the dark, everyone sleeping. I figured since it was the johnson's that there were security cameras taping this. i did not care. if you have seen this house, you understand its power, especially for a wanna be theater queen. I finally left, had a very very long and paranoid drive home. But it was 5ish and the sky was turning that faded morning blue and the orange looked dusty and it was beautiful and i wondered when steven was getting home. Nick Drake put me to sleep. I was filled.
Dad and i went to Ruffled Feathers to play golf with dale on sunday. Well, i didn't play, i just drove the cart around and drank vodka lemonades. I love golf. I think its the most hilarious thing in the world. It's something about the golf carts, the way they drive - like little wind up toys. And the degree of comparison between all those acres of land and that little tiny ball that old men in their silly outfits keep running after. It's more than entertaining to see the focus in the approach, the time that passes before the ball is struck, or rather "chunked" then the resistance to throw the one of 1200 clubs these kids carry around against a tree. And the etiquette. I LOVE golf etiquette. And the terminology. Fabulous! 90 degree cart rules and slopes and doglegs and bump and run and hey dann, want me to mark it? Dad and i decided we'd develop should make 12 hole courses. The game takes 5 fucking hours to play. 5 hours. Thats redonkulous. But like i said, i just drove the cart around and drank vodka lemonades.
Dad and i went to McDonalds for dinner. I thought that was funny. And it was 11 dollars. That just seems wrong. So then, despite our russian floridian buzz and sun lethargy, we drove to LaGrange to see...Mr Blotto! Dad and i have been talking about doing this forever. It was nice that it finally got done. Plus, LaGrange is cute. Plus i was supposedly mad at him for awhile, so this was our lets hang out and be friends again ok? day. all is well with the world.
SO THEN, we get home and im still thirsty so i drink aussie cab and talk to jodo for the first time in forever and that makes me wonderously happy because jodo always has good things to talk about. And then i chat with Cat for the first time in forever and that makes me wondrously happy too. and then kellen comes online which is so rare and we chat and i discover that he has also sent me another e-mail and that is awesome because he letters are fantastic. AND THEN while im pissing on the pot my phone rings, which is also rare, and good heavens its my sweet peached stello calling to tell me he's home from xinprovenceois but all i remember from that conversation is me saying something how he's still the same and nothings changed and he gasps and retorts nothings changed?? Aparently, air franc'e does something to you. oui oui.
so thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn i got sufjan stevens in my plugs and i light the tiki torch next to my hammock outside and the northern sky and i treat myself to a ciggy binge and im just, well drunk, but since this is a story about karma and not chemicals, im very very happy.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
o oxygen
thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love
ewan mcgregor
paul simon
nick drake
this is my fantasy lullaby bed.
ewan mcgregor
paul simon
nick drake
this is my fantasy lullaby bed.
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