sigh.

Thoughts on Creativity

I'd like my bed to eat him.

Worked late. Walked home. Ate dinner (read: wheat thins and hummus). Watched one of my stored Inside the Actor's Studio's, this one with Johnny Depp, from 2002. He's brilliant. I'm sharing a bit . . . the rest of the show is on YouTube -- it's worth a watch.



Goodnight.

Breaking News!!

I just ate the loveliest, yummiest plum.

Every day IS like Christmas.

Good gravy, I'm excited.

Shmooby,

You are, indeed, the best dressed lady I know. I'm quite excited to learn something.

Hells Yeah: mashupNYC

Love,
Shmooby

P.S. I'm still wishing I'd bought those $399 brown boots last season. Think they're still around? Think I could win the lottery at some point so I can afford them?

P.P.S. I'm wearing my Joe's today. My ass looks fantastic.

P.P.P.S. I'm hungry. It's only 9:40. I'm craving a belly bomb.

P.P.P.P.S. Will call you shortly.

Chinese, my ass.

The Martin Luther King Memorial Causes a Stir

A Chinese sculptor has been chosen to carve a monument three storeys high on the National Mall in Washington, where it will be placed between the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials. But a loose-knit and growing group of critics is demanding that a black sculptor, or at least an American, should have been chosen. The protesters have been joined by human rights advocates who say King would have abhorred the Chinese government's record on religious and civil liberties.

Right. Right. Because MLK said "eff acceptance" and was all about hatred and prejudice.

I get the whole "he'd abhor the Chinese government's record blah blah blah" but . . . I'm pretty sure this sculptor was picked for a reason, no? Perhaps, skill? Isn't it a bit effed to go after this guy because of his nationality, skin color, religious beliefs?

I'm deeply confused. (That's obvious.)

UPDATE:

Betsy needs to start a blog. Yes, she does. (Yes, I'm a blog-pusher.) An example of her smarts:

I think people waste too much time getting upset up about too many things instead of picking their battles. While I'm happy and thankful to live in a country where we can voice our opinions without fear of reprisal, I still think we should learn when to fight and when to keep our traps shut.

Hot friggin' damn. Word, Bootsy. Word.

on repeat

It's really too bad that Kanye West is a fuckwit because he's quite a talented fellow.

Cris and I had this on repeat in Cali . . . and when I say repeat, I mean, um, REPEAT. (I'm tired.)

STRONGER

Friggin' LOVE this song. Love. Lüv.

Heaven When We're Home

I want to go back. I miss our convertible, Cris.



Don't know what time it is, I've been up for way too long
and I'm too tired to sleep
I call my mother on the phone, she wasn't home,
and now I'm wondering the street
I've been a fool, I've been cruel to myself
I've been hanging onto nothing
when nothing could be worse than hanging on
And something tells me there must be
something better than all this

I've fallen many times in love and every time
it's been with the wrong man
Still I'm out there living one day at a time
and doing the best I can
Cuz we've all made mistakes
that seem to lead us astray
But every time they helped to get us where we are today
And that's a good a place as any
and it's probably where we're best off anyway

It's a long and rugged road
and we don't now where it's headed
But we know it's going to get us where we're going
And when we find what we're looking for
we'll drop these bags and search no more
'Cuz it's going to feel like heaven when we're home
It's going to feel like heaven when we're home

There's no such thing as perfect,
and if there is we'll fnd it when we're good and dead
Trust me I've been looking
but tonight I think I'll go and take a bath instead
And then maybe I'll walk a while
and feel the earth beneath me
They say if you stop looking
it doesn't matter if you find it
And whose to say that even if I did
it's what I'm really looking for

It's a long and rugged road
and we don't now where it's headed
But we know it's going to get us where we're going
And when we find what we're looking for
we'll drop these bags and search no more
'Cuz it's going to feel like heaven when we're home
It's going to feel like heaven when we're home

—The Wailin' Jennys

What in the eff did I do in April?

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Physicist John Cramer has made progress in his research into the feasibility of time travel. But he can't take his work to its next phase without an infusion of $20,000. You might want to consider donating, Scorpio. If you did, and he managed to perfect time travel in his future experiments, you'd no doubt be high on the priority list to use the new technology. And that means you could go back and correct for the wrong turn you made in April, which I'd really like to see you do. If you don't have the inclination to contribute to Cramer's research, at least try this alternative: Go to each person affected by your deviation and make a thoughtful attempt at atonement and correction. —Village Voice, Rob Brezsny

Working on 4 hours of sleep. This is pretty much all you're getting today.

Clingy.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): "Dear Rob: In the past few weeks, life has been opening me up over and over again, as if I were a rose that couldn't stop blooming. Every perception hits me with a soothing bolt of clarity. Every conversation is gracefully sculpted, as if composed by a higher power. I'm listening and actually hearing what people really mean. I feel accountable for each word that comes out of my mouth. It's amazing. Do you have any tips for keeping this state going on forever? I'm afraid I'll slip back into a duller, more self-absorbed state. – Scorpio On Fire." Dear Scorpio: Don't cling. Don't be grasping or anxious. Instead, do what is potentially every Scorpio's specialty: Die and be reborn every day. Again and again, kill off the magic that's working so well and artfully resurrect it in a transformed version. —Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Killing Mandy's Magic to commence at 11:59 p.m. tonight.

Yup.

And apparently, blogging, to me, means putting up tidbits of crap throughout the day. (Wow, that was a lot of commas . . . and I don't think they're used correctly either.)

I rock.

I'm extremely hyper.

And someone just caught me giving double guns to a friend while I was prancing around outside her cube.

Me = Professional

But, hey, have you heard? I smell enchanting . . . so fuck it.

Nice way to start the morning . . .

I was just told:

"Whatever you're wearing is enchanting!"

Note to self: wear this mix of lotion and perfume EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR REST OF LIFE.

I totally believe it.

If only they knew what I had under my hat.

Passenger 'hid monkey under hat'

I'm getting lipo.

'Liposuction' for excess sweating

I know, Gillian, I know.

Make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down a pallet soft and low
When I’m broken I got no where to go

Been hangin’ around with a good time friends of mine
Hangin’ around with a good time friends of mine
Oh, they treat me very nice and kind
When I’ve got a dollar and a dime

We’re in blues everywhere I see
We’re in blues everywhere I see
We’re in blues, honey, everywhere I see
No one ever had the blues like me

Way I’m sleepin’, my back and shoulders tired
Way I’m sleepin’, my back and shoulders tired
Come tomorrow, I’ll be satisfied
If I can catch that fast train and ride

So, make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down a pallet soft and low
Babe, I’m broken, I got no where to go

—Gillian Welch, Make Me Down a Pallet on Your Floor

WTF

I was just sent this by a coworker.



I repeat: WTF

ass-hat

I'm right, you're wrong.

Example of said insult used in a sentence:

Cristina, you ass-hat, you're wrong.

Woo Bloody Hoo

I think it might be time for me to leave this city, job, apartment . . . I'm pretty damn sick of being eff'd in the a.

Anyone else want to come to my pity party? It'll be taking place all week.

uh huh, uh huh, got it!

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): [Editor's note: To prepare this horoscope, I stole some of the lyrics from Yoko Ono's song "Revelations" and added some words of my own.] Bless you for your anger, Scorpio. It's a sign of zeal. If you transform it into creative fire, it will transmute your relationship with any situation you're angry about. Bless you for your greed. It's a sign of great capacity. Honor the law of karma by giving as much as you want to get, and your greed will drive you to grow generous. Bless you for your jealousy. It's a sign of immature empathy. Ripen it into admiration, and what you admire will become an inspiring part of your life. -Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Holy Effing Ow.

Skateboarder Eats It, Nation Cheers

To my Mam:

PINCH PUNCH FIRST DAY OF THE MONTH!
WHITE RABBIT WHITE RABBIT WHITE RABBIT!

I win. (You cheat.)

All writery and shit.

Funny little idea . . .

Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest
 - 2007 Results

An international literary parody contest, the competition honors the memory (if not the reputation) of Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873). The goal of the contest is childishly simple: entrants are challenged to submit bad opening sentences to imaginary novels. Although best known for "The Last Days of Pompeii" (1834), which has been made into a movie three times, originating the expression "the pen is mightier than the sword," and phrases like "the great unwashed" and "the almighty dollar," Bulwer-Lytton opened his novel Paul Clifford (1830) with the immortal words that the "Peanuts" beagle Snoopy plagiarized for years, "It was a dark and stormy night."

A few of my favorites:

Dishonorable Mention – Vile Puns
He was often found lurking behind the bakery, begging for scraps and practicing his rap, which is why he was known locally, as the synonym bum.

Runner-Up - Detective
She'd been strangled with a rosary—not a run-of-the-mill rosary like you might get at a Catholic bookstore where Hail Marys are two for a quarter and indulgences are included on the back flap of the May issue of "Nuns and Roses" magazine, but a fancy heirloom rosary with pearls, rubies, and a solid gold cross, a rosary with attitude, the kind of rosary that said, "Get your Jehovah's Witness butt off my front porch."

Dishonorable Mention - Detective
What shocked Juliette as she entered the room was not that there was an escaped convict under her coverlet snuggling with her best teddy bear, but that there was a knife through his back, "And who," she wondered out loud, steadying herself against the faux-taffeta wallpaper, "would stab a teddy bear?"

Dishonorable Mention - Romance
He held her desperately in his arms and stroked her silken hair, and as he drew her full red lips to his, he ravenously smothered her with lots of smooches.