Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you
Old man, take a look at my life
Twenty-four and I'm so much more
Live alone in a paradise, makes me think of two
Love lost at such a cost
Give me things that don't get lost
Like a coin that won't get tossed, rolling home to you
Old man, take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Oh, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true
Lullabies, look in your eyes
Run around the same old town
Doesn't mean that much to me, mean that much to you
I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past
But I'm all alone at last, rolling home to you
Old man, take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Oh, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true
Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you
—Old Man / The Wailin' Jennys
Word, no?
December 13, 2007
December 11, 2007
December 10, 2007
There’s grown-up on my pillow.
(Hope you’re feeling better Lisbeth. And it’s throw-up.)
I don’t understand them, the people who show up for jury duty without a book, magazine, crossword puzzle, pen and paper, anything. I watched these people do nothing all day today. How can you do nothing for eight hours? They just sat. And stared. At nothing. I don’t understand them.
That being said, I got through two magazines, a third of Eat, Pray, Love and had quite the day of relaxation and quiet. I love jury duty. To sit in a quiet room for eight hours and read? Now, I know this isn’t the typical civic duty service for most, but to be one of the lucky ones as I was today? . . . to not have your name called? . . . while at first it felt like I was the last pick in the school yard, I soon got over it.
Back to work tomorrow. I might just have to go back to being a legal eagle (I'm so cool) later in the week though. Don’t ask . . . I have no idea how this crap works either. I’m just doing what they tell me.
It’s past my bedtime and I have a big tension headache from the enormous breakdown I just had on the phone with my sister. Dude, Sarah, you’re one patient lady. I’m terribly sorry you always seem to get the explosions. (I know it’s particularly fun to hear me fight to catch breath, being so friggin’ blocked up and all.)
Ugh . . .
One last fit for 2007, I suppose (let’s hope that’s the last one). I think 2008 is going to be all about learning how to live in a capable, non-retarded fashion. Or perhaps I won’t have to worry and soon I’ll just start pooping money.
I’m going to go to bed now and hope that I wake up making more sense.
I don’t understand them, the people who show up for jury duty without a book, magazine, crossword puzzle, pen and paper, anything. I watched these people do nothing all day today. How can you do nothing for eight hours? They just sat. And stared. At nothing. I don’t understand them.
That being said, I got through two magazines, a third of Eat, Pray, Love and had quite the day of relaxation and quiet. I love jury duty. To sit in a quiet room for eight hours and read? Now, I know this isn’t the typical civic duty service for most, but to be one of the lucky ones as I was today? . . . to not have your name called? . . . while at first it felt like I was the last pick in the school yard, I soon got over it.
Back to work tomorrow. I might just have to go back to being a legal eagle (I'm so cool) later in the week though. Don’t ask . . . I have no idea how this crap works either. I’m just doing what they tell me.
It’s past my bedtime and I have a big tension headache from the enormous breakdown I just had on the phone with my sister. Dude, Sarah, you’re one patient lady. I’m terribly sorry you always seem to get the explosions. (I know it’s particularly fun to hear me fight to catch breath, being so friggin’ blocked up and all.)
Ugh . . .
One last fit for 2007, I suppose (let’s hope that’s the last one). I think 2008 is going to be all about learning how to live in a capable, non-retarded fashion. Or perhaps I won’t have to worry and soon I’ll just start pooping money.
I’m going to go to bed now and hope that I wake up making more sense.
From Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert:
"I love my pizza so much, in fact, that I have come to believe in my delirium that my pizza might actually love me, in return."
"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."
December 6, 2007
"Brad's bum in particular was in a bad way."
Thank you for this, Betsy.
Fans get too close to Brad Pitt and George Clooney waxworks
Holy crap, that's some funny shit.
Fans get too close to Brad Pitt and George Clooney waxworks
Holy crap, that's some funny shit.
December 3, 2007
High C.
I’m retuning today: Retune the Body with a Partial Fast
I’ve never realized just how much of my life revolves around food . . . how much I think about it, love it, plan ahead for it. And, I have to say . . . I just don’t think that’s a bad thing.
I’m hungry as hell. Yet . . . proud. Just think, I’m waking up tomorrow retuned! How’re YOU waking up tomorrow?
7.5 hours to go . . .
I'm a friggin' hero.
I’ve never realized just how much of my life revolves around food . . . how much I think about it, love it, plan ahead for it. And, I have to say . . . I just don’t think that’s a bad thing.
I’m hungry as hell. Yet . . . proud. Just think, I’m waking up tomorrow retuned! How’re YOU waking up tomorrow?
7.5 hours to go . . .
I'm a friggin' hero.
December 2, 2007
Good. And good.
I just read about this web site in Self magazine. I already love it.
lifehacker
(Congrats, pumpkinhead. I'm proud of you. I still think you're crazy, but I'm proud of you.)
lifehacker
(Congrats, pumpkinhead. I'm proud of you. I still think you're crazy, but I'm proud of you.)
November 29, 2007
Next time I'm just going for the bacon, egg & cheese.
Sugar-free mixed berry corn muffins can suck it. No wonder that's all they had left.
Wah.
Wah.
November 26, 2007
Awe.Some.
I just ran into some chick and doused myself with my morning Diet Coke.
Oh, the day it's shaping up to be . . .
Oh, the day it's shaping up to be . . .
November 21, 2007
Um, yeah.
So, is this becoming the Chris Pureka fansite? What can I say? I've been listening to her stuff nonstop since I got the albums.
But really, with lyrics like this:
So I made a little room,
up on the top shelf
and I won't hold that place dog-eared anymore,
no which is to say
life just goes on dear,
which is to say
sometimes I miss you like hell...
. . . how in the hell can you not appreciate her?
But really, with lyrics like this:
So I made a little room,
up on the top shelf
and I won't hold that place dog-eared anymore,
no which is to say
life just goes on dear,
which is to say
sometimes I miss you like hell...
. . . how in the hell can you not appreciate her?
Interesting campaign.
Don't know much about Mr. Huckabee, but I know Mr. Norris has fists of steel. Politics Shmolitics, this made me laugh . . .
I don't consider myself a Republican at all, but I must say that I appreciate Huckabee's humor.
And I appreciate Chuck, too. As do we all: Chuck Norris Facts.
I don't consider myself a Republican at all, but I must say that I appreciate Huckabee's humor.
And I appreciate Chuck, too. As do we all: Chuck Norris Facts.
November 15, 2007
So It Goes
Listened to the new Chris Pureka album (Dryland) whilst cleaning last night. I really do love this chick's music.
Word. Click the title to listen to the song. Tis worth it.
So It Goes
You pack your sweaters for the fall
and the flowers die in their garden rows
and the warm words can't help at all,
everybody knows...
You're trying to find a compromise
between remembering and learning to forget,
so now just pouring a glass of water
is like trying to move boulders with your breath.
It's so hard to see it all,
she tries to hold you in the night,
but you're shaking you're crying out,
praying for sleep to bless your bedside.
That's right, so it goes,
the whole world folds over you.
Pack your handkerchief and your best shoes...
Reconciliation of guilt and grief,
it's the hardest battle you've tried to win
and now every year you grit your teeth
as it cuts you underneath your skin.
Oh and Sunday mornings don't bring you solace,
you are firm in your disbelief
but you hold tight to that old promise;
you are waiting for the spring,
you are waiting for the spring.
That's right, so it goes,
the whole world folds over you.
Pack your handkerchief and your best shoes...
Don't leave me breathing,
no not alone,
there's so much more I meant to tell you.
I went by with flowers, just to see,
but that granite told me you're still gone....
Don't leave me breathing,
no not alone,
there's so much more I meant to tell you...
I went by with flowers, just to see,
but the granite told me you're still gone....
Word. Click the title to listen to the song. Tis worth it.
So It Goes
You pack your sweaters for the fall
and the flowers die in their garden rows
and the warm words can't help at all,
everybody knows...
You're trying to find a compromise
between remembering and learning to forget,
so now just pouring a glass of water
is like trying to move boulders with your breath.
It's so hard to see it all,
she tries to hold you in the night,
but you're shaking you're crying out,
praying for sleep to bless your bedside.
That's right, so it goes,
the whole world folds over you.
Pack your handkerchief and your best shoes...
Reconciliation of guilt and grief,
it's the hardest battle you've tried to win
and now every year you grit your teeth
as it cuts you underneath your skin.
Oh and Sunday mornings don't bring you solace,
you are firm in your disbelief
but you hold tight to that old promise;
you are waiting for the spring,
you are waiting for the spring.
That's right, so it goes,
the whole world folds over you.
Pack your handkerchief and your best shoes...
Don't leave me breathing,
no not alone,
there's so much more I meant to tell you.
I went by with flowers, just to see,
but that granite told me you're still gone....
Don't leave me breathing,
no not alone,
there's so much more I meant to tell you...
I went by with flowers, just to see,
but the granite told me you're still gone....
My, your shoes are lovely.
I was up until 2 a.m. cleaning my apartment. My dinner consisted of a glass of wine and a bowl of ice cream. I haven't exercised more than twice a week in months . . . (and I'm lucky if I get 2 workouts in). I am the pillar of health.
And I am a tired girl. And a lazy girl. Case in point, I just ran a couple of errands in my building with two different shoes on:
I noticed the incorrect shoe-ing minutes after leaving my desk YET I made no effort to back-up and start over. Because I really don't give a shit. Awesome, right? Right.
Dude, I wish I was still sleeping.
(Man, this blog post might be my most entertaining one yet. I am on FIRE.)
And I am a tired girl. And a lazy girl. Case in point, I just ran a couple of errands in my building with two different shoes on:
I noticed the incorrect shoe-ing minutes after leaving my desk YET I made no effort to back-up and start over. Because I really don't give a shit. Awesome, right? Right.
Dude, I wish I was still sleeping.
(Man, this blog post might be my most entertaining one yet. I am on FIRE.)
November 13, 2007
very pretty, very sad
it's been four years since that day when the news fell from the sky
you took until we meet again and turned it to goodbye
and I hope that you won't rest in peace because that would bore you right to tears
you always made the richest feast of the dangers and the fears
it was almost fine, you were almost mine
it was you and me and love made three on a broken white line
well that night was long, there was one more song and then we were on our way
driving slow, no place to go and nothing more to say
and the rain came down around that car like we were underneath the sea
in the back seat, almost drowning, holding on to me
it was almost fine, you were almost mine
and from town to town we chased it down on a broken white line
looking in your eyes was just like staring at the sun
always thought that I'd go blind or end up all undone
and in the end I turned my face away from where you shone so bright
now I wake in all this darkness crying for a little of your light
it's been four years and now I find I've been living all this time
I built myself a little world of rhythm and of rhyme
but sometimes I take your picture and I turn it to the wall
because you are still a cliff and baby I still know how to fall
it was almost fine, you were almost mine
but day by day you slipped away down that broken white line
it was you and me and love made three
broken white line / kris delmhorst
***
I hear you, Cris.
you took until we meet again and turned it to goodbye
and I hope that you won't rest in peace because that would bore you right to tears
you always made the richest feast of the dangers and the fears
it was almost fine, you were almost mine
it was you and me and love made three on a broken white line
well that night was long, there was one more song and then we were on our way
driving slow, no place to go and nothing more to say
and the rain came down around that car like we were underneath the sea
in the back seat, almost drowning, holding on to me
it was almost fine, you were almost mine
and from town to town we chased it down on a broken white line
looking in your eyes was just like staring at the sun
always thought that I'd go blind or end up all undone
and in the end I turned my face away from where you shone so bright
now I wake in all this darkness crying for a little of your light
it's been four years and now I find I've been living all this time
I built myself a little world of rhythm and of rhyme
but sometimes I take your picture and I turn it to the wall
because you are still a cliff and baby I still know how to fall
it was almost fine, you were almost mine
but day by day you slipped away down that broken white line
it was you and me and love made three
broken white line / kris delmhorst
***
I hear you, Cris.
November 9, 2007
Right. Right. What??
SCORPIO [Oct. 23 – Nov. 21]
I believe that doing the challenging assignments I'm about to describe will put you in alignment with cosmic rhythms and make it more likely that you will attract grace and synchronicity into your life. You are, of course, under no obligation to carry them out. That's because you have free will and are always at liberty to choose a path that leads you away from grace and synchronicity. With that as a caveat, here are the roles I believe you should play in the coming week if you'd like to thrive: a catalytic X-factor; a tender wild card; a friendly shocker; a nonviolent bombshell; an agent provocateur who loves all you survey. —Rob Breszny, Village Voice
Huh?
I believe that doing the challenging assignments I'm about to describe will put you in alignment with cosmic rhythms and make it more likely that you will attract grace and synchronicity into your life. You are, of course, under no obligation to carry them out. That's because you have free will and are always at liberty to choose a path that leads you away from grace and synchronicity. With that as a caveat, here are the roles I believe you should play in the coming week if you'd like to thrive: a catalytic X-factor; a tender wild card; a friendly shocker; a nonviolent bombshell; an agent provocateur who loves all you survey. —Rob Breszny, Village Voice
Huh?
November 7, 2007
November 6, 2007
Prepare yourself for my folly.
SCORPIO [Oct. 23 – Nov. 21]
A drunk dominatrix sidled up to me at a party and said, "Reverend, please absolve me of my sins." I'm not officially a priest, but in the spirit of fun and games I replied, "Why, my dear? Have you seen the error of your ways?" She spread her arms wide as she bowed, hissing like a serpent through a toothy smile. "Not at all, Reverend," she said. "I just want to clear the docket so I can go out and commit a slew of fresh new sins with crazy abandon." I sprinkled a few drops of Heineken on her head and channeled William Blake: "You'll never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. If the fool would persist in her folly, she would become wise." And now, Scorpio, I'm channeling the same blessing for you. —Village Voice / Rob Brezsny
Well, if that's not an invitation for debauchery, I'm not sure what is.
A drunk dominatrix sidled up to me at a party and said, "Reverend, please absolve me of my sins." I'm not officially a priest, but in the spirit of fun and games I replied, "Why, my dear? Have you seen the error of your ways?" She spread her arms wide as she bowed, hissing like a serpent through a toothy smile. "Not at all, Reverend," she said. "I just want to clear the docket so I can go out and commit a slew of fresh new sins with crazy abandon." I sprinkled a few drops of Heineken on her head and channeled William Blake: "You'll never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. If the fool would persist in her folly, she would become wise." And now, Scorpio, I'm channeling the same blessing for you. —Village Voice / Rob Brezsny
Well, if that's not an invitation for debauchery, I'm not sure what is.
November 5, 2007
New music . . . yes, again . . .
Newest album purchase: Deb Talan / A Bird Flies Out.
Bought the CD for the track, Rocks and Water. Lovely song:
Seven times I went down
Six times I walked back
I don't fear the dark anymore
'Cause I've become all that
Chorus:
I will be rocks I will be water
I will leave this to my daughter
Lift your head up in the wind
When you feel yourself grow colder
Wrap the night around your shoulders
I will be with you even then
Even when I cannot see your face anymore
Don't forget the time I wooed him with red wine
The devil he wore such a fine, fine shirt
And it stayed so clean
While he dragged me through the dirt
Now honey don't trust anyone who looks you in the eye
Don't take any kindness, it's a demand in disguise
Repeat Chorus
I have seen such things child
On this and the other side
Words cannot show you
The midnight owl it does not know you
You will see for your sweet self by and by
Repeat Chorus
And, now I need to get something from The Weepies, which is her "group" with Steve Tannen . . . with whom she wrote Rocks and Water. Full. Circle.
Also loving this track: Unraveling
You tie your shoes too tight, you know
cause it feels better that way.
And when you don't, all night you are dreaming
you walk, laces streaming down the street behind you.
A river of tangled string
you are unraveling
and no one else seems to mind.
You keep it to yourself, stay numb and act fine.
You wear the truth under your sole, like a pebble
it makes you limp and sway
but it will out someday.
Take it from me it is no use
washing your hands so often they are clean and cracked.
You never get your old skin back
once you have loved like that
you're a river of tangled string...
He is inside you, he loved your marrow.
You think you could cut him out with a knife
if you went deep enough
I don't think so.
Maybe sing him back to living
'cause he might rise like a snake in a basket
or he may close his eyes
and wait till his life is a full-fledged casket, floating on
a river of tangled string...
Bought the CD for the track, Rocks and Water. Lovely song:
Seven times I went down
Six times I walked back
I don't fear the dark anymore
'Cause I've become all that
Chorus:
I will be rocks I will be water
I will leave this to my daughter
Lift your head up in the wind
When you feel yourself grow colder
Wrap the night around your shoulders
I will be with you even then
Even when I cannot see your face anymore
Don't forget the time I wooed him with red wine
The devil he wore such a fine, fine shirt
And it stayed so clean
While he dragged me through the dirt
Now honey don't trust anyone who looks you in the eye
Don't take any kindness, it's a demand in disguise
Repeat Chorus
I have seen such things child
On this and the other side
Words cannot show you
The midnight owl it does not know you
You will see for your sweet self by and by
Repeat Chorus
And, now I need to get something from The Weepies, which is her "group" with Steve Tannen . . . with whom she wrote Rocks and Water. Full. Circle.
Also loving this track: Unraveling
You tie your shoes too tight, you know
cause it feels better that way.
And when you don't, all night you are dreaming
you walk, laces streaming down the street behind you.
A river of tangled string
you are unraveling
and no one else seems to mind.
You keep it to yourself, stay numb and act fine.
You wear the truth under your sole, like a pebble
it makes you limp and sway
but it will out someday.
Take it from me it is no use
washing your hands so often they are clean and cracked.
You never get your old skin back
once you have loved like that
you're a river of tangled string...
He is inside you, he loved your marrow.
You think you could cut him out with a knife
if you went deep enough
I don't think so.
Maybe sing him back to living
'cause he might rise like a snake in a basket
or he may close his eyes
and wait till his life is a full-fledged casket, floating on
a river of tangled string...
November 2, 2007
Damn, this album is really friggin' good.
I've got skin like birch bark
you can peel me off and lose me to the wind
I guess it's too late, to protect myself from this
it feels like I've been driving north
it's getting colder by the mile
and at this rate I'll be buried in snow in no time at all
but you've been building these walls for a long time
it's not that I didn't know but you'd flash me another smile
as you'd lay another stone
and I still fall for that
I still fall for that one every time
this is all that's left
just these sad sad songs
if you're going to go your way
I guess I'll carry myself along
could you build me a guardrail
to keep me from falling off of the ledge?
or throw me a rope and pull me out of this?
could you sew me a flag to remind me
where I stand without you, it's easy to forget
and this is all that's left...
well I've been taking long drives with the music too loud
I've been dragging my feet over the February ground
and I've been talking to strangers at the local bars
and I wish they were you
you know it just brings me down
tell me a joke or two I could use one now
'cause I've got skin like birch bark...
and this is all that's left...
—Driving North / Chris Pureka
you can peel me off and lose me to the wind
I guess it's too late, to protect myself from this
it feels like I've been driving north
it's getting colder by the mile
and at this rate I'll be buried in snow in no time at all
but you've been building these walls for a long time
it's not that I didn't know but you'd flash me another smile
as you'd lay another stone
and I still fall for that
I still fall for that one every time
this is all that's left
just these sad sad songs
if you're going to go your way
I guess I'll carry myself along
could you build me a guardrail
to keep me from falling off of the ledge?
or throw me a rope and pull me out of this?
could you sew me a flag to remind me
where I stand without you, it's easy to forget
and this is all that's left...
well I've been taking long drives with the music too loud
I've been dragging my feet over the February ground
and I've been talking to strangers at the local bars
and I wish they were you
you know it just brings me down
tell me a joke or two I could use one now
'cause I've got skin like birch bark...
and this is all that's left...
—Driving North / Chris Pureka
It means, there's a spider on your mutha-fuckin' head.
For Cris: You got the hot foot.
You wanna cookie? I'll give you a cookie . . . *pelvic thrust, pelvic thrust*
You wanna cookie? I'll give you a cookie . . . *pelvic thrust, pelvic thrust*
October 31, 2007
Quite. Nice.
I just bought an album called Driving North by Chris Pureka.
I heard her song, Burning Bridges, on the Be Good Tanyas radio station I made on Pandora. The album is lovely. Listened to it last night and immediately put it in my iTunes, at work, this morning.
LYRICS:
This is a story of burning bridges
and allowing time to pass
this is a story of forgiveness
and breaking things in my hands
this is a story of understanding
you can't choose who you love
and this is a story of soft skin
and rats in the walls
well you can't just pass along
the pain that comes around
you'll go dizzy until you fall
and I know you didn't mean to let me down
but you let me down so hard
this is a story of loaded glances
and leaning in too far
this is a story of vague advances
and confessions in smoky bars
so now I am walking down the sidewalk
and I am singing to myself
and I'm going to leave it all behind me now
'cause I don't need this,
I just don't need this
and you can't...
these memories are talking and talking
and I'll do anything to shut 'em up
I've got the pillow over my head
but they won't stop
no, no they won't stop
some fantasies are never meant to be
realized at all
and some regrets could be prevented
if you read the writing on the wall
oh and sometimes you say "you know nothing can happen"
and then she leans over and lifts off your glasses
and the next thing you know you're just tangled and guilty
and you've got a head full of liquor and perfume
oh and when did you leave me
and when did you find her
and tell me is this just what you wanted...
Good review of Driving North
I'll be buying her new album (Dryland) soon. My, how I love discovering a good singer/songwriter.
I heard her song, Burning Bridges, on the Be Good Tanyas radio station I made on Pandora. The album is lovely. Listened to it last night and immediately put it in my iTunes, at work, this morning.
LYRICS:
This is a story of burning bridges
and allowing time to pass
this is a story of forgiveness
and breaking things in my hands
this is a story of understanding
you can't choose who you love
and this is a story of soft skin
and rats in the walls
well you can't just pass along
the pain that comes around
you'll go dizzy until you fall
and I know you didn't mean to let me down
but you let me down so hard
this is a story of loaded glances
and leaning in too far
this is a story of vague advances
and confessions in smoky bars
so now I am walking down the sidewalk
and I am singing to myself
and I'm going to leave it all behind me now
'cause I don't need this,
I just don't need this
and you can't...
these memories are talking and talking
and I'll do anything to shut 'em up
I've got the pillow over my head
but they won't stop
no, no they won't stop
some fantasies are never meant to be
realized at all
and some regrets could be prevented
if you read the writing on the wall
oh and sometimes you say "you know nothing can happen"
and then she leans over and lifts off your glasses
and the next thing you know you're just tangled and guilty
and you've got a head full of liquor and perfume
oh and when did you leave me
and when did you find her
and tell me is this just what you wanted...
Good review of Driving North
I'll be buying her new album (Dryland) soon. My, how I love discovering a good singer/songwriter.
October 30, 2007
Juice and a movie . . .
I hear my niece is watching Lady and the Tramp right now.
I wish I was with her.
I wish I was with her.
Both Hands
This has been one of my favorite Ani songs since listening to the Like I Said album nonstop on a trip to England, after my high school graduation. I'm really loving the new re-recorded version on the new double album Canon, too. And just looky what I found on YouTube. (It's a wonder I get anything done with the interweb's snazziness afoot.)
October 26, 2007
Spring cleaning . . . in the Fall.
SCORPIO [Oct. 23 – Nov. 21]
Don't eat stale candy from a vending machine where it has sat for six months. Don't seek advice from people who haven't changed their minds about anything since the last century. And don't wear clothes you acquired before 2005 or cling to attitudes you adopted before last month. Catch my drift, Scorpio? You need to evade every influence that tends to keep you frozen in the past. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that it's time to make yourself fully available for the healthiest kind of future shock. Halloween costume suggestions: a grinning exclamation point, a rosebud about to burst open, a welcome sign, a religious devotee dressed in white.
—Village Voice, Rob Brezsny
Word. Well, except for the Halloween part. That part can suck it. Halloween can suck it. What? Where are my pants?
Don't eat stale candy from a vending machine where it has sat for six months. Don't seek advice from people who haven't changed their minds about anything since the last century. And don't wear clothes you acquired before 2005 or cling to attitudes you adopted before last month. Catch my drift, Scorpio? You need to evade every influence that tends to keep you frozen in the past. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that it's time to make yourself fully available for the healthiest kind of future shock. Halloween costume suggestions: a grinning exclamation point, a rosebud about to burst open, a welcome sign, a religious devotee dressed in white.
—Village Voice, Rob Brezsny
Word. Well, except for the Halloween part. That part can suck it. Halloween can suck it. What? Where are my pants?
October 25, 2007
I never ramble.
Tis truly frustrating not having a computer at home. Truly, truly frustrating. I’ve become way too dependent on technology. But you can bet your ass I’ll never be going on one of those “Living Green for a Year!” endeavors that are all the rage right now. Nope, Green can suck it. (Just kidding, just kidding, Earth!)
Sooooooo . . . the computer is MAYBE going to work again. Maybe not. Things are fuzzy. BUT the good news is that I’ll be buying one of the G5s going off lease from my company for about $300 – and I think I’ll be bringing that puppy home next week sometime. So, that’s something. Of course, wouldn’t you know, as soon as I have a wee bit more money coming in, out it on goes. Jebus. Yet, I need the faster, better, doesn’t-shut-down-every-5-minutes machine. Need need need want want want . . .
Completely OFF subject, I heard the following conversation on Tuesday morning, on my bus-ride to work. Made me laugh SO I wrote it down for your pleasure:
Old woman: “You know Tom’s suit last night?”
Old man: “Yeah (pause) what about it?”
Old woman: “I always wanted you to buy one like that but it’s too late now. Now you’re too old.
And . . . silence.
Right. Well, that doesn’t seem very nice. But, it sure is funny . . . to some.
Moving on . . .
I am in LOVE with the Be Good Tanyas radio station I’ve created on Pandora. It rocks it. Big time. And I did some digging on the interweb this evening and bought a CD from one chick I’ve discovered. Have a list of another ten CDs I’m going to look into. Will let you good people know what I think later. YOU must be on the edge of your seat, eh?
(Sarah: Interesting tidbit . . . seems Natalie Merchant covers “Sally Ann” on a retrospective CD she put out. INTeresting, eh? Not a bad track either.
OH, and I must say, that even though Old Crow Medicine Show has “Cocaine Habit” on seemingly every album, I quite like the track on Big Iron World the best. It’s crazy good . . . so I think. And, what do you think?)
OK, I’m done talking to my sister now.
(Where was my 4:30 call today? Not cool.)
OK, now I’m done.
I really can’t think of much else I have to say. I’m sure I’ll remember something else I wanted to ramble about halfway thru my walk home (which I’m quite looking forward to tonight – need to do some thinking . . . it’s my big girl birthday on Saturday, after all. I need to start analyzing the shit out of my life and such. Per usual.)
Just going to keep going with them . . . one of the songs in my top 5 (it’s just so lovely and this is a good performance of it!):
And the video (Sarah: have you seen this?? Notice the Gillian cameo!):
My how Ketch is a lovely boy. (I really still can’t believe they played at your wedding, Sarah. You give Andrew the music responsibility and look how well he does!)
And I am NOW done talking to my sister via my blog-o.
Have one hell of a night, peeps.
Sooooooo . . . the computer is MAYBE going to work again. Maybe not. Things are fuzzy. BUT the good news is that I’ll be buying one of the G5s going off lease from my company for about $300 – and I think I’ll be bringing that puppy home next week sometime. So, that’s something. Of course, wouldn’t you know, as soon as I have a wee bit more money coming in, out it on goes. Jebus. Yet, I need the faster, better, doesn’t-shut-down-every-5-minutes machine. Need need need want want want . . .
Completely OFF subject, I heard the following conversation on Tuesday morning, on my bus-ride to work. Made me laugh SO I wrote it down for your pleasure:
Old woman: “You know Tom’s suit last night?”
Old man: “Yeah (pause) what about it?”
Old woman: “I always wanted you to buy one like that but it’s too late now. Now you’re too old.
And . . . silence.
Right. Well, that doesn’t seem very nice. But, it sure is funny . . . to some.
Moving on . . .
I am in LOVE with the Be Good Tanyas radio station I’ve created on Pandora. It rocks it. Big time. And I did some digging on the interweb this evening and bought a CD from one chick I’ve discovered. Have a list of another ten CDs I’m going to look into. Will let you good people know what I think later. YOU must be on the edge of your seat, eh?
(Sarah: Interesting tidbit . . . seems Natalie Merchant covers “Sally Ann” on a retrospective CD she put out. INTeresting, eh? Not a bad track either.
OH, and I must say, that even though Old Crow Medicine Show has “Cocaine Habit” on seemingly every album, I quite like the track on Big Iron World the best. It’s crazy good . . . so I think. And, what do you think?)
OK, I’m done talking to my sister now.
(Where was my 4:30 call today? Not cool.)
OK, now I’m done.
I really can’t think of much else I have to say. I’m sure I’ll remember something else I wanted to ramble about halfway thru my walk home (which I’m quite looking forward to tonight – need to do some thinking . . . it’s my big girl birthday on Saturday, after all. I need to start analyzing the shit out of my life and such. Per usual.)
Just going to keep going with them . . . one of the songs in my top 5 (it’s just so lovely and this is a good performance of it!):
And the video (Sarah: have you seen this?? Notice the Gillian cameo!):
My how Ketch is a lovely boy. (I really still can’t believe they played at your wedding, Sarah. You give Andrew the music responsibility and look how well he does!)
And I am NOW done talking to my sister via my blog-o.
Have one hell of a night, peeps.
Loving this song today:
from the depth of the pacific
to the height of everest
and still the world is smoother
than a shiny ball-bearing
so i take a few steps back
and put on a wider lens
and it changes your skin,
your sex, and what your wearing
distance shows your *silhouette*
to be a lot like mine
like a sphere is a sphere
and all of us here
have been here all the time
yeah, we've been here all the time*
you brought me to church
cinder blocks, flourescent light
you brought me to church
at seven o'clock on a sunday night
and the band was rockin'
and the floors were scrubbed clean
and everybody had a tambourine
so i took a deep breath and became
the white girl with the hair
and you sat right beside me
while everybody stared
and through the open window
i think the singing went outside
and floated up to tell
all the stars not to hide
'cuz by the time church let out
the sky was much clearer
and the moon was so beautiful
that the ocean held up a mirror
as we walked home we spoke slowly
we spoke slow
and we spoke lowly
like it was taking more time
than usual to choose
the words to go
with your squeaky sandal shoes
like time is not a thing
thats ours to lose
from the height of the pacific
to the depths of the everest...
everest / ani difranco
to the height of everest
and still the world is smoother
than a shiny ball-bearing
so i take a few steps back
and put on a wider lens
and it changes your skin,
your sex, and what your wearing
distance shows your *silhouette*
to be a lot like mine
like a sphere is a sphere
and all of us here
have been here all the time
yeah, we've been here all the time*
you brought me to church
cinder blocks, flourescent light
you brought me to church
at seven o'clock on a sunday night
and the band was rockin'
and the floors were scrubbed clean
and everybody had a tambourine
so i took a deep breath and became
the white girl with the hair
and you sat right beside me
while everybody stared
and through the open window
i think the singing went outside
and floated up to tell
all the stars not to hide
'cuz by the time church let out
the sky was much clearer
and the moon was so beautiful
that the ocean held up a mirror
as we walked home we spoke slowly
we spoke slow
and we spoke lowly
like it was taking more time
than usual to choose
the words to go
with your squeaky sandal shoes
like time is not a thing
thats ours to lose
from the height of the pacific
to the depths of the everest...
everest / ani difranco
October 22, 2007
I hate your heroes.
Eff the gym. I'm going home, to eat mac & cheese and watch women cry their eyes out on The Bachelor.
My plans = Amazing.
My plans = Amazing.
October 19, 2007
www.readabookalready.com
So, it turns out my lovely computer has a memory problem (just like its Mam) BUT it’s being handled. Bought myself a brand-spanking new gigabyte of mems this afternoon. Surely that should make the sucker comfortable until I purchase a friend for him. We shall see, oh we shall see.
Now that I’m done boring MYSELF . . .
All of this means I’m not going to have a computer this weekend. No checking of the email, no wide webbed world browsing, no pretending to work on my “budget” when I’m really just looking at old photographs. None of that . . .
Damn.
I hope there’s good TV on.
And now it’s off to the gym for the FOURTH time this week!! I. Am. Hot. Shit. No, seriously. Seriously.
Seriously.
Now that I’m done boring MYSELF . . .
All of this means I’m not going to have a computer this weekend. No checking of the email, no wide webbed world browsing, no pretending to work on my “budget” when I’m really just looking at old photographs. None of that . . .
Damn.
I hope there’s good TV on.
And now it’s off to the gym for the FOURTH time this week!! I. Am. Hot. Shit. No, seriously. Seriously.
Seriously.
October 17, 2007
October 16, 2007
Fatty McFatpants
I haven't stopped eating all day. Seriously, I can't be stopped.
One night at the gym and apparently I have the metabolism of . . . of . . . Calista Flockhart?? (Yeah, I don't know . . . I got nothing.)
Although, I did manage to lose a good twenty pounds during the commute to work this morning. I have FINALLY brought my computer in for my IT friendy friend to take a look at . . . as it can't go 5 minutes without crapping out. Of course, I wouldn't have had to lug my damn tower into work had I been able to identify the hard drive upon opening said tower. (Yup, I'm a moron.)
But, believe me, I definitely lost some weight. (Which makes me think . . . perhaps I bring a heavy item from home every time I go to work? Today, my computer. Tomorrow, my TV.) That badass was heavy. And I wouldn't suggest taking the bus whilst transporting a computer. You get . . . looks . . . and stupidity. One women asked me what it was. When I said "a computer" she said "oh! I didn't realize that because it's in a case!" . . . WHAT??? What in the hell kind of computer does she use?? Fucking PC users . . .
Right . . . soooooooo, what I'm saying is, I'm a rockstar. That's pretty much it.
One night at the gym and apparently I have the metabolism of . . . of . . . Calista Flockhart?? (Yeah, I don't know . . . I got nothing.)
Although, I did manage to lose a good twenty pounds during the commute to work this morning. I have FINALLY brought my computer in for my IT friendy friend to take a look at . . . as it can't go 5 minutes without crapping out. Of course, I wouldn't have had to lug my damn tower into work had I been able to identify the hard drive upon opening said tower. (Yup, I'm a moron.)
But, believe me, I definitely lost some weight. (Which makes me think . . . perhaps I bring a heavy item from home every time I go to work? Today, my computer. Tomorrow, my TV.) That badass was heavy. And I wouldn't suggest taking the bus whilst transporting a computer. You get . . . looks . . . and stupidity. One women asked me what it was. When I said "a computer" she said "oh! I didn't realize that because it's in a case!" . . . WHAT??? What in the hell kind of computer does she use?? Fucking PC users . . .
Right . . . soooooooo, what I'm saying is, I'm a rockstar. That's pretty much it.
October 15, 2007
Bah blah bah blah bah blahhhhh
It has now been . . . I’d say . . . well . . . a long fucking time since I was last at the gym. And I’m feeling it. Big Time. It’s pretty damn horrible how quickly you can fall out of an exercise routine . . .
Yeah, so I’m going. In a half-hour or so.
Even though, after the day I’ve had, I rather feel the need to soak my head in a big ol’ bucket o’ vodka.
There’s always tomorrow, I s’pose.
G’night.
Dude, is that annoying or what?
Yeah, so I’m going. In a half-hour or so.
Even though, after the day I’ve had, I rather feel the need to soak my head in a big ol’ bucket o’ vodka.
There’s always tomorrow, I s’pose.
G’night.
Dude, is that annoying or what?
October 13, 2007
um . . .
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Eskimos of Siberia are perplexed by the changes in their climate, wrote Usha Lee McFarling in the Seattle Times. Thunder and lightning used to be exceptional events, but now they make regular appearances. Bizarre, balmy winds breeze in out of the south. Elders who were once skilled in the art of reading the sky to foretell the weather are at a loss. "The Earth is turning faster," said one hunter. I suspect, Scorpio, that you're having a comparable crisis of faith on the personal level. For you, the Earth may not only seem to be rotating at a speedier clip, but also at a different angle. One of these mornings, you may even see the sun rise in the west. But your situation isn't necessarily as disturbing as the Eskimos believe theirs to be. For all you know, the signs are portents of rebirth. —Village Voice, Rob Brezsny
Is it OK to get weepy whilst reading a horoscope?
Perhaps that's just due to sitting at my desk, at work, on a Saturday. hhhmmmm . . .
Is it OK to get weepy whilst reading a horoscope?
Perhaps that's just due to sitting at my desk, at work, on a Saturday. hhhmmmm . . .
October 12, 2007
Because I just can't get to work this morning.
TGIF.
I heart the weekend.
Goals:
1. Laundry (Hopefully tonight – God help me, I’m on my last thong. Is that too much information? Anyhoo, I have nothing left to wear. Must clean clothing.)
2. Sleep (preferably for HOURS and HOURS)
3. Lunch with Shmoob (and beer . . . lovely beer)
4. Pay hours of attention to DVR. (We need to work on our relationship. I’ve been neglectful.)
5. Gym (Sweet Baby Jebus, I hope I don’t pass out at minute 2 on the treadmill. This could be dangerous, people. I believe this will be my first time back at the gym in a couple of months. My gut will be grateful, I’m sure.)
6. Rifle thru shit and see what I can get rid of.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to be spending more time on Goal #2 than any of the others . . . and I’m OK with that.
I heart the weekend.
Goals:
1. Laundry (Hopefully tonight – God help me, I’m on my last thong. Is that too much information? Anyhoo, I have nothing left to wear. Must clean clothing.)
2. Sleep (preferably for HOURS and HOURS)
3. Lunch with Shmoob (and beer . . . lovely beer)
4. Pay hours of attention to DVR. (We need to work on our relationship. I’ve been neglectful.)
5. Gym (Sweet Baby Jebus, I hope I don’t pass out at minute 2 on the treadmill. This could be dangerous, people. I believe this will be my first time back at the gym in a couple of months. My gut will be grateful, I’m sure.)
6. Rifle thru shit and see what I can get rid of.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to be spending more time on Goal #2 than any of the others . . . and I’m OK with that.
Cuteness.
Thank God this commercial is starting to air again.
I can't stop watching it.
So, THAT was some big news . . . what else . . .
Um, I'll get back to you.
I can't stop watching it.
So, THAT was some big news . . . what else . . .
Um, I'll get back to you.
October 10, 2007
Two things
1. Chicken dumpling soup is delish.
2. Thanks be to Jebus, tomorrow is payday.
whoop whoop
2. Thanks be to Jebus, tomorrow is payday.
whoop whoop
October 9, 2007
Bunnies, rainbows, stardust
I’m in desperate need of a time-out and a self-overhaul.
I started compiling a list today. Of things I want to do, need to do, better fucking do. I was adding things to it all day. Of course, this is probably going to go the way of most of the other “to do” lists I put together, but I’m going jot it down here anyhow . . . because I have it on my mind and this is my blog to do with as I wish. So suck it.
- No more diet coke before noon (this is a very good idea)
- Buy new pair of Responsibility Pants and focus on doing freelance work in a timely fashion, going after more freelance work, and doing better work for clients
- Wear new pair of RPs to get out of financial clusterfuck that I—and only I—have created for myself
- Apply same determination and drive used at work to health and self-preservation (read: use gym membership, stop eating like a cow, get a hell of a lot more sleep, drop-kick stress level, etc.)
- Start friggin’ drawing again already
- Engage in some extracurricular creative study (get to a bookstore once a week and sit with design mags for a hour—thank you, Timmy)
- Give clothes to Good Will, sell shoes on eBay, take books to second-hand library bookshop (a.k.a. sort through clothes, stuff . . . shed extra baggage)
- Pick up one of the many, many, many books lugged home and take less than 3 months to finish it
- Stop waiting 2-4 weeks before returning emails, phone calls, friend interaction (get head out of own ass)
- Read stack of magazines taking up valuable floor space
- Buy camera, learn how to use it, start taking photos of my important people
- Buy strings, pick up dusty guitar, figure out how to put strings on guitar, start teaching self (again) how to play guitar (like it worked out so well the first time?), impress everyone, get record deal, play at Brad and Angelina’s wedding
My. Wasn’t that exciting?
Wow, I really forgo a blog theme, don’t I?
And now, a treat:
Darling remember from when you come to me
that I’m the pretender,
I’m not what I’m supposed to be
but who could know, lf I’m a traitor?
times the revelator, revelator.
They caught the Katy, and left me a mule to ride.
The fortune lady came along she walked beside,
but every word seemed to date her.
Times the revelator, the revelator.
Up in the morning up and on the ride.
I drive in to Corning and all the spindles whine
and ever day is getting straighter.
Times the revelator the revelator
Leaving the valley and fucking out of sight
I’ll go back to Cali where I can sleep out every night
and watch the waves and move the fader.
Queen of fakes and Imitators
Times the revelator.
And now I'm going to sleep. Because it's late and I'm posting lists on my blog instead of working on bullet #4.
Good God, I hope I can get out of my head soon. If someone could let me know how to get out my own way, I'd appreciate it.
UPDATE: New title for bloggage entry, for one who felt dejected.
I started compiling a list today. Of things I want to do, need to do, better fucking do. I was adding things to it all day. Of course, this is probably going to go the way of most of the other “to do” lists I put together, but I’m going jot it down here anyhow . . . because I have it on my mind and this is my blog to do with as I wish. So suck it.
- No more diet coke before noon (this is a very good idea)
- Buy new pair of Responsibility Pants and focus on doing freelance work in a timely fashion, going after more freelance work, and doing better work for clients
- Wear new pair of RPs to get out of financial clusterfuck that I—and only I—have created for myself
- Apply same determination and drive used at work to health and self-preservation (read: use gym membership, stop eating like a cow, get a hell of a lot more sleep, drop-kick stress level, etc.)
- Start friggin’ drawing again already
- Engage in some extracurricular creative study (get to a bookstore once a week and sit with design mags for a hour—thank you, Timmy)
- Give clothes to Good Will, sell shoes on eBay, take books to second-hand library bookshop (a.k.a. sort through clothes, stuff . . . shed extra baggage)
- Pick up one of the many, many, many books lugged home and take less than 3 months to finish it
- Stop waiting 2-4 weeks before returning emails, phone calls, friend interaction (get head out of own ass)
- Read stack of magazines taking up valuable floor space
- Buy camera, learn how to use it, start taking photos of my important people
- Buy strings, pick up dusty guitar, figure out how to put strings on guitar, start teaching self (again) how to play guitar (like it worked out so well the first time?), impress everyone, get record deal, play at Brad and Angelina’s wedding
My. Wasn’t that exciting?
Wow, I really forgo a blog theme, don’t I?
And now, a treat:
Darling remember from when you come to me
that I’m the pretender,
I’m not what I’m supposed to be
but who could know, lf I’m a traitor?
times the revelator, revelator.
They caught the Katy, and left me a mule to ride.
The fortune lady came along she walked beside,
but every word seemed to date her.
Times the revelator, the revelator.
Up in the morning up and on the ride.
I drive in to Corning and all the spindles whine
and ever day is getting straighter.
Times the revelator the revelator
Leaving the valley and fucking out of sight
I’ll go back to Cali where I can sleep out every night
and watch the waves and move the fader.
Queen of fakes and Imitators
Times the revelator.
And now I'm going to sleep. Because it's late and I'm posting lists on my blog instead of working on bullet #4.
Good God, I hope I can get out of my head soon. If someone could let me know how to get out my own way, I'd appreciate it.
UPDATE: New title for bloggage entry, for one who felt dejected.
She used to be such a wee thing.
Lisbeth vs. The Computer
I'm pretty sure she's still the cutest thing ever. Ev. Er.
UPDATE: Yes, that's her calling the computer Nana. Because, her Nana in Virginia lives inside the monitor most of the time. Thank God they didn't have that technology when I was growing up . . . holy confusion, Batman.
I'm pretty sure she's still the cutest thing ever. Ev. Er.
UPDATE: Yes, that's her calling the computer Nana. Because, her Nana in Virginia lives inside the monitor most of the time. Thank God they didn't have that technology when I was growing up . . . holy confusion, Batman.
Hiding My Heart / Brandi Carlile
So this is how the story went
I met someone by accident
That blew me away
That blew me away
It was in the darkest of my days
When you took my sorrow and you took my pain
And buried them away, you buried them away
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face under the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
I'm sure you'll go one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
I dropped you off at the train station
And put a kiss on top of your head
I watched you wave
I watched you wave
Then I went on home to my skyscrapers
Neon lights and waiting papers
That I call home
I call it home
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
I'm sure you'll go one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
I woke up feeling heavy hearted
I'm going back to where I started
The morning rain
The morning rain
And you know I wish that you were here
But that same old road that brought me here
Is calling me home
Is calling me home
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
You'll disappear someday
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
**heartstring pull heartstring pull**
I met someone by accident
That blew me away
That blew me away
It was in the darkest of my days
When you took my sorrow and you took my pain
And buried them away, you buried them away
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face under the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
I'm sure you'll go one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
I dropped you off at the train station
And put a kiss on top of your head
I watched you wave
I watched you wave
Then I went on home to my skyscrapers
Neon lights and waiting papers
That I call home
I call it home
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
I'm sure you'll go one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
I woke up feeling heavy hearted
I'm going back to where I started
The morning rain
The morning rain
And you know I wish that you were here
But that same old road that brought me here
Is calling me home
Is calling me home
And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
You'll disappear someday
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away
**heartstring pull heartstring pull**
in the a.m.
It's way past my bedtime. Yet, I haven't hit the sack yet (ha, sack). I got a little carried away downloading music . . . although, I did manage to find one of my favorite recordings (Ryan Adams and Gillian Welch, Helpless, 1999) and have listened to it on repeat for the last 15 minutes or so. And now you can listen to it, too! Here you go. (Please be sure to note the toolbox who drops his bottle. How much do you love THAT guy?) And, say, do you want the entire set from that night in Nashville? Well, here you go.
In other news, after I finished up freelance work (only 2 and a half weeks late with that) I started deleting crap off of my FTP site, as I've been warned that I'm all full up (of crap). I found the files from my old blog. The one that I took down in a state of "why in the hell do I have this up?"-dom. I'll warn you, I'm in that very same state of mind now, too. But I won't take this blog down (LUCKY. YOU.) b/c Cristina would seriously hurt me. I am, however, about to yank down that damn Effbook page. I can't explain it . . . it just freaks me out.
ANYhoo . . . found this when I was looking thru the old, forgotten blog archives. This site still makes me laugh: Poor Anthony.
Found a lot of other crap but it all made me puke . . . so there you go.
Goodnight, people.
In other news, after I finished up freelance work (only 2 and a half weeks late with that) I started deleting crap off of my FTP site, as I've been warned that I'm all full up (of crap). I found the files from my old blog. The one that I took down in a state of "why in the hell do I have this up?"-dom. I'll warn you, I'm in that very same state of mind now, too. But I won't take this blog down (LUCKY. YOU.) b/c Cristina would seriously hurt me. I am, however, about to yank down that damn Effbook page. I can't explain it . . . it just freaks me out.
ANYhoo . . . found this when I was looking thru the old, forgotten blog archives. This site still makes me laugh: Poor Anthony.
Found a lot of other crap but it all made me puke . . . so there you go.
Goodnight, people.
October 8, 2007
an old favorite
Leased twenty acres
And one jimmy mule
From the Alabama Trust
Half of cotton, third of corn
Get a hand full of dust
We cannot have all things pleasin'
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why
I had a daughter
Called her Annabelle
She's the apple of my eye
Tried to give her something like I never had
Didn't want to ever hear her cry
We cannot have all things pleasing
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why
When I'm dead and buried
I'll take a hard life of tears
Every day I've ever known
Anna's in the churchyard
She's got no life at all
She only got these words on stone:
We cannot have all things pleasing
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why
—Gillian Welch, Annabelle
And one jimmy mule
From the Alabama Trust
Half of cotton, third of corn
Get a hand full of dust
We cannot have all things pleasin'
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why
I had a daughter
Called her Annabelle
She's the apple of my eye
Tried to give her something like I never had
Didn't want to ever hear her cry
We cannot have all things pleasing
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why
When I'm dead and buried
I'll take a hard life of tears
Every day I've ever known
Anna's in the churchyard
She's got no life at all
She only got these words on stone:
We cannot have all things pleasing
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why
—Gillian Welch, Annabelle
October 5, 2007
Colors / Amos Lee
Yesterday I got lost in the circus
Felling like such a mess
Now I’m down I’m just hanging on the corner
I can’t help but reminisce
When you’re gone all the colors fade
When you’re gone no New Year’s Day parade
You’re gone
Colors seem to fade
Your mama called she said that you’re down stairs crying
Feeling like such a mess
Yeah I hear you you’re in the background bawling
What happened to your sweet summertime dress
I know we all, we all got our faults
We get locked in our vaults and we stay
But when you’re gone all the colors fade
When you’re gone no New Year’s Day parade
You’re gone
Colors seem to fade
Colors seem to fade
Yeah
***
Damn, that's one lovely song. I must see him in concert soon.
Felling like such a mess
Now I’m down I’m just hanging on the corner
I can’t help but reminisce
When you’re gone all the colors fade
When you’re gone no New Year’s Day parade
You’re gone
Colors seem to fade
Your mama called she said that you’re down stairs crying
Feeling like such a mess
Yeah I hear you you’re in the background bawling
What happened to your sweet summertime dress
I know we all, we all got our faults
We get locked in our vaults and we stay
But when you’re gone all the colors fade
When you’re gone no New Year’s Day parade
You’re gone
Colors seem to fade
Colors seem to fade
Yeah
***
Damn, that's one lovely song. I must see him in concert soon.
October 4, 2007
lovely.
if you've never heard her music, you're missing out. when, oh when, is the next album out, imogen? your musical stylings fit my mood today.
six? six??
someone just used six happy exclamation points on me . . . in a seven word work email.
dear perky perkerson,
suck it.
mug
p.s. you got a tad of a smile . . . but don't go thinking that shit is cool.
dear perky perkerson,
suck it.
mug
p.s. you got a tad of a smile . . . but don't go thinking that shit is cool.
song o' the day and a little question
so that's how you found me
rain falling around me
lookin down at a worm
with a long way to go
and the traffic was hissing by
and i was homesick
and i was high
i was surrounded by a language
in which i could say only hello
and thank you very much
and you spoke so i could understand
and i drew a treasure map on your hand
and you were no picnic
you were no prize
but you had just enough pathos
to keep me hypnotized
hypnotized
the map led to an island
in a sea of store-bought dreams
where soulless singers sang
over beats built by machines
and lovely girls were hovering
above my head like gulls
with their long slender necks
and their delicate skulls
and i was no picnic
i was no prize
but i had just enough sweetness
to keep you hypnotized
hypnotized
so that's how you found me
rain falling around me
lookin down at a worm
with a long way to go
—hypnotized, ani difranco
* * *
no caps today. no caps at all. caps are for the well-rested.
question: can one day pass me by without being sent a bill for some large amount of money that 1) i don't have 2) would be smaller had i remembered to pay the goddamn bill when it was due?
i'm an idiot.
i need this panicked feeling to dissipate at some point. i need to feel quiet.
rain falling around me
lookin down at a worm
with a long way to go
and the traffic was hissing by
and i was homesick
and i was high
i was surrounded by a language
in which i could say only hello
and thank you very much
and you spoke so i could understand
and i drew a treasure map on your hand
and you were no picnic
you were no prize
but you had just enough pathos
to keep me hypnotized
hypnotized
the map led to an island
in a sea of store-bought dreams
where soulless singers sang
over beats built by machines
and lovely girls were hovering
above my head like gulls
with their long slender necks
and their delicate skulls
and i was no picnic
i was no prize
but i had just enough sweetness
to keep you hypnotized
hypnotized
so that's how you found me
rain falling around me
lookin down at a worm
with a long way to go
—hypnotized, ani difranco
* * *
no caps today. no caps at all. caps are for the well-rested.
question: can one day pass me by without being sent a bill for some large amount of money that 1) i don't have 2) would be smaller had i remembered to pay the goddamn bill when it was due?
i'm an idiot.
i need this panicked feeling to dissipate at some point. i need to feel quiet.
October 3, 2007
Yummy yum yum
Just had a Cadbury Fruit & Nut. I refuse to feel bad about it, too. Until I can't button my pants tomorrow.
HEY, EFF YOU! IT'S BEEN A ROUGH WEEK!
Dammit.
HEY, EFF YOU! IT'S BEEN A ROUGH WEEK!
Dammit.
Peachy.
I think I may have just nodded off at my desk for a full minute. Two 12-hour work days, no down-time, and getting into work at 8:00 a.m., does not a happy Muggy make. That was a wordy and horrible sentence . . . but you get my point. Need. A. Nap. And a refresher English course, apparently.
I can’t even begin to express the rage I’m starting to feel every time I hear “I can’t read that subtitle." Oh yeah?? Can’t you? That’s weird . . . you’d think you’d be able to read it STANDING 10 FUCKING FEET AWAY FROM THE COVER.
Welcome to my day.
I can’t even begin to express the rage I’m starting to feel every time I hear “I can’t read that subtitle." Oh yeah?? Can’t you? That’s weird . . . you’d think you’d be able to read it STANDING 10 FUCKING FEET AWAY FROM THE COVER.
Welcome to my day.
September 28, 2007
Watch. Out.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21): You will soon be dealing with a challenge you have faced before: how to synchronize your two major archetypes, the lover and the warrior. As always, it will be a daunting task. You will be asked to cultivate the tender, considerate instincts of the lover within you while simultaneously feeding the fiery discipline of your inner warrior. I know you can do it, Scorpio—even if it seems impossible from where you're standing right now. —Village Voice, Rob Brezsny
Effbook
Last night I went to see The Wailin’ Jennys concert, downtown at Joe’s Pub (awesome space, by the way). They were fantastic – their music is just so pure and beautiful. The girls seemed completely at ease and natural.
Harumph . . . I want to play the fiddle and sing without ruining someone’s life.
Seriously though, next time they’re in town: all of you are coming with me. I want everyone to experience them live. Really, really, really good.
I ended the night by coming home and seeing the explosion in my email regarding Facebook. Good God, people. I finally relented and joined this virtual community about 4 hours previously. The whole thing is pretty overwhelming to me. I spent a good half hour quizzing Gabe about Fbook and why he was asking me to become a Vampire. I don’t want to be a Vampire.
I’ve already been “friended” by a girl from high school who I haven’t spoken to AT ALL since . . . well, high school. And I’m pretty sure we weren’t much more than acquaintances then. Very, very strange. I’m not sure how I feel about a lot of people from my past (many of whom I’d rather choose to forget) getting in touch with me . . . if only virtually. (This said, hurry up and sign up Cris.)
How is it that so much of the work I do deals with a computer and the Internet YET I feel so very far behind in the digital age (and in every other aspect of my life, it seems)? Am I that antiquated? Is it strange that I still love buying CDs and going through the liner notes? Is it strange that I really miss non-digital cameras and the excitement of opening up a pack of “I have no idea what’s on this roll” photos? Is it odd that I miss answering machines and people not able to get in touch with me during the day?
I think I need serious help.
But, we already knew that.
Harumph . . . I want to play the fiddle and sing without ruining someone’s life.
Seriously though, next time they’re in town: all of you are coming with me. I want everyone to experience them live. Really, really, really good.
I ended the night by coming home and seeing the explosion in my email regarding Facebook. Good God, people. I finally relented and joined this virtual community about 4 hours previously. The whole thing is pretty overwhelming to me. I spent a good half hour quizzing Gabe about Fbook and why he was asking me to become a Vampire. I don’t want to be a Vampire.
I’ve already been “friended” by a girl from high school who I haven’t spoken to AT ALL since . . . well, high school. And I’m pretty sure we weren’t much more than acquaintances then. Very, very strange. I’m not sure how I feel about a lot of people from my past (many of whom I’d rather choose to forget) getting in touch with me . . . if only virtually. (This said, hurry up and sign up Cris.)
How is it that so much of the work I do deals with a computer and the Internet YET I feel so very far behind in the digital age (and in every other aspect of my life, it seems)? Am I that antiquated? Is it strange that I still love buying CDs and going through the liner notes? Is it strange that I really miss non-digital cameras and the excitement of opening up a pack of “I have no idea what’s on this roll” photos? Is it odd that I miss answering machines and people not able to get in touch with me during the day?
I think I need serious help.
But, we already knew that.
September 27, 2007
Amazing
I got all teary watching bits of his lecture, when he was featured on Good Morning America. I haven't had the chance to watch the complete lecture yet. I'm going to have a hanky nearby, that's for damn sure.
Kath: thanks for sending the links! :)
This guy puts it in perspective.
Randy Pausch's Web Site
Kath: thanks for sending the links! :)
This guy puts it in perspective.
Randy Pausch's Web Site
September 25, 2007
Upsetting
Rudolph Not Returning to 'SNL'
Kristen Wiig better not go anywhere. I'm not sure who saw Knocked Up out there (which was quite good) but Kristen definitely made me laugh the hardest. She rocks. Big time rockage.
***
UPDATE, PER BOOGIE!!!
Thank friggin' God.
Kristen Wiig better not go anywhere. I'm not sure who saw Knocked Up out there (which was quite good) but Kristen definitely made me laugh the hardest. She rocks. Big time rockage.
***
UPDATE, PER BOOGIE!!!
Thank friggin' God.
September 18, 2007
Elizabeth - The Golden Age
I can not WAIT to see this!! I love Cate Blanchett! I love Clive Owen! I love Elizabeth!! I love Cake! I need help!
Elizabeth - The Golden Age (trailer)
Elizabeth - The Golden Age (trailer)
Nike Football - Leave Nothing
Note to self: Buy Last of the Mohicans soundtrack on CD -- not sure where cassette went.
Yay, Redskins! Lovely job last night Mr. Campbell . . .
Campbell's talent, poise winning over teammates
Seriously, he did pretty damn well. I was quite impressed. Now, if I could only watch every Redskins game up here in NY. Of course . . . would have been nice to catch more of the first half YET I was at work until 9. And I'm back at work. I honestly feel like I never left.
AND meeting time . . . let's go out there and get some covers approved! Whoop whoop!
September 17, 2007
pretty funny
Ryan Seacrest = tool
Rainn Wilson = untool
Kanye West = tool . . . but wasn't quite the ass he normally is.
Rainn Wilson = untool
Kanye West = tool . . . but wasn't quite the ass he normally is.
September 14, 2007
You little imp, you.
Will be emptying self at midnight.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21): The experiment I'm proposing is something you should try only if you're feeling adventurous. Don't do it if you're in a timid or self-pitying mood. Here it is: Empty yourself out completely, and do it gladly. With impish daring, lower your expectations all the way down to zero. Surrender every remnant of hope you might be tempted to cling to. With a jaunty nonchalance, pretend you have nothing to lose. And then open an enormous welcome in your heart for the messy, unpredictable sweetness of life exactly as it is. Say yes to the beauty of ambiguity and paradox. Free yourself to accept every person and every situation on its own terms. If you try what I've suggested, I bet you will be united with a potent blessing you didn't even know you needed. —Village Voice, Rob Brezsny
You've gone stolen my heart again, Rob.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21): The experiment I'm proposing is something you should try only if you're feeling adventurous. Don't do it if you're in a timid or self-pitying mood. Here it is: Empty yourself out completely, and do it gladly. With impish daring, lower your expectations all the way down to zero. Surrender every remnant of hope you might be tempted to cling to. With a jaunty nonchalance, pretend you have nothing to lose. And then open an enormous welcome in your heart for the messy, unpredictable sweetness of life exactly as it is. Say yes to the beauty of ambiguity and paradox. Free yourself to accept every person and every situation on its own terms. If you try what I've suggested, I bet you will be united with a potent blessing you didn't even know you needed. —Village Voice, Rob Brezsny
You've gone stolen my heart again, Rob.
September 13, 2007
I want to squeeze Fiddy's cheeks.
Keep watching until you see Al Michaels rendition of Fiddy's In Da Club. Amazing.
(HAHAHAHA . . . Fiddy.)
(HAHAHAHA . . . Fiddy.)
Be my volunteer.
Not. Embarrassing. Pretty Amusing.
***
Don't pay no mind to it
Oh let it blow
Break you up inside
If you don't let it go
Jeez what are you like honey
I don't know
Recommended by my bank
And everybody in the tank
First of all I'd like to thank
This might take while honey
Hey don't blink
Missing by a mile now we're
Here on the brink
Not a day goes by honey
I don't think
I could be your volunteer
We'll make the whole thing disappear
Saddle up we're outta here
You could be my olive branch
Lift me up above the stench
Walk me through the avalanche
Honey won't you be my flood
Nothing ever comes out good
Trouble in the neighbourhood
Conversations gone askew
And how do you make it feel like new
Kookaburra kangaroo
Will you won't you be my leach
Take it all and when I screech
Leave it there just outta reach
Take me to that burning bush
Give me something that I can't crush
Lead me out into the hush
So far behind
So far behind
So far behind
So far behind
So far behind
—Kangaroo, David Gray
***
Don't pay no mind to it
Oh let it blow
Break you up inside
If you don't let it go
Jeez what are you like honey
I don't know
Recommended by my bank
And everybody in the tank
First of all I'd like to thank
This might take while honey
Hey don't blink
Missing by a mile now we're
Here on the brink
Not a day goes by honey
I don't think
I could be your volunteer
We'll make the whole thing disappear
Saddle up we're outta here
You could be my olive branch
Lift me up above the stench
Walk me through the avalanche
Honey won't you be my flood
Nothing ever comes out good
Trouble in the neighbourhood
Conversations gone askew
And how do you make it feel like new
Kookaburra kangaroo
Will you won't you be my leach
Take it all and when I screech
Leave it there just outta reach
Take me to that burning bush
Give me something that I can't crush
Lead me out into the hush
So far behind
So far behind
So far behind
So far behind
So far behind
—Kangaroo, David Gray
Um, no.
How older siblings stunt growth
Oh yeah? Then explain how I'm a few inches taller than my older sister and my younger sister is a small giant.
My Mum sent my sisters and I this article. And now she thinks her womb is magic.
Oh yeah? Then explain how I'm a few inches taller than my older sister and my younger sister is a small giant.
My Mum sent my sisters and I this article. And now she thinks her womb is magic.
September 12, 2007
You say, be still my love.
I realized something this week . . . I’m not a glass half-full type of person. I’m never going to be a glass half-full type of person. The glass is always going to be almost empty. I’m always looking to fill that sucker up. Right? Right. Cram it in, as they say.
Perhaps that explains the palpitations.
We’re fine, me myself and I. We’re working, too hard. We’re now forcing the overtime issue. We’re exhausted. But we’re fine.
I’m not good with pep talks. I’m Grumpy Grumperson with pep talks. When things seem horrible, they’re horrible. I can’t be told things will get better . . . because better seems quite a ways away and better ain’t happening in this instant. I’m a stubborn ass who isn’t changing moods halfway into one. I apologize big time to those people who try to snap me out of it. Sorry, it just won’t work. (Look back, I said stubborn.)
But, don’t worry, I’ll get over it. I always do. I just need to be a pathetic, pity-party-throwing SOB for a moment . . . or many moments. Sometimes my parties last for days (in my pants).
I’ve had a few too many late walks home over the past few weeks. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking . . . and not a lot of doing. (Have also been doing some car-dodging. There was almost a lack of a Mugwatch around here at 9:03 p.m. on Monday night. And, yes, I totally had the right-of-way . . . for once.) I’ve not figured things out just yet. I’m tired of “figuring things out.” I’m ready to just have them figured out already.
I hate complaining (Riiiiiight, you say. Piss off, I say.) Yet, I seem to be doing an awful lot of it of late. And who needs that? Certainly no one I know. Here’s me, trying to keep my mouth shut for awhile. (Let’s see how long it lasts.)
In other news, I have about two pairs of work pants that fit. Baggy and breezy is my new look for the Fall, whether I like it or not. Hot? Yeah, you could say so. (Oh, snap.)
Thanks for listening. Reading. Rolling your eyes.
Where are my pants?
Perhaps that explains the palpitations.
We’re fine, me myself and I. We’re working, too hard. We’re now forcing the overtime issue. We’re exhausted. But we’re fine.
I’m not good with pep talks. I’m Grumpy Grumperson with pep talks. When things seem horrible, they’re horrible. I can’t be told things will get better . . . because better seems quite a ways away and better ain’t happening in this instant. I’m a stubborn ass who isn’t changing moods halfway into one. I apologize big time to those people who try to snap me out of it. Sorry, it just won’t work. (Look back, I said stubborn.)
But, don’t worry, I’ll get over it. I always do. I just need to be a pathetic, pity-party-throwing SOB for a moment . . . or many moments. Sometimes my parties last for days (in my pants).
I’ve had a few too many late walks home over the past few weeks. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking . . . and not a lot of doing. (Have also been doing some car-dodging. There was almost a lack of a Mugwatch around here at 9:03 p.m. on Monday night. And, yes, I totally had the right-of-way . . . for once.) I’ve not figured things out just yet. I’m tired of “figuring things out.” I’m ready to just have them figured out already.
I hate complaining (Riiiiiight, you say. Piss off, I say.) Yet, I seem to be doing an awful lot of it of late. And who needs that? Certainly no one I know. Here’s me, trying to keep my mouth shut for awhile. (Let’s see how long it lasts.)
In other news, I have about two pairs of work pants that fit. Baggy and breezy is my new look for the Fall, whether I like it or not. Hot? Yeah, you could say so. (Oh, snap.)
Thanks for listening. Reading. Rolling your eyes.
Where are my pants?
I really need to get back to work
The Beginning - Part 1
The Beginning - Part 2
The Beginning - Part 3
The Beginning - Part 2
The Beginning - Part 3
Truly outrageous
Just shared some fabulous childhood memories with Betsy, over IM . . . because we're terribly busy.
Um, who else remembers this amazing show?
Betsy and I certainly do. And look at the friggin’ Wikipedia on it!
In short: Amazing.
You must read the plot and the bios (more fun than Wiki). Holy depth, Jerrica. Such as (from Wiki):
Pizzazz/Phyllis Gabor (Lead Vocals and Guitarist) — . . . She has been shown to be attracted to both Rio (Jem/Jerrica's paramour) and Sean Harrison (Kimber's off-and-on boyfriend), and grows psychotically angry if rebuffed by either of them.
To quote Betsy: “again, we were NINE.”
It was only on for three years. Can that be right? Three Jemtacular years, if you ask me . . . as you did. I can remember renting the episodes from Blockbuster over and over and over again with the sisters. I'm pretty sure we had lyrics memorized.
I’m totally buying the DVDs . . . and pretending they’re for my niece . . . whenever she comes to visit.
Um, who else remembers this amazing show?
Betsy and I certainly do. And look at the friggin’ Wikipedia on it!
In short: Amazing.
You must read the plot and the bios (more fun than Wiki). Holy depth, Jerrica. Such as (from Wiki):
Pizzazz/Phyllis Gabor (Lead Vocals and Guitarist) — . . . She has been shown to be attracted to both Rio (Jem/Jerrica's paramour) and Sean Harrison (Kimber's off-and-on boyfriend), and grows psychotically angry if rebuffed by either of them.
To quote Betsy: “again, we were NINE.”
It was only on for three years. Can that be right? Three Jemtacular years, if you ask me . . . as you did. I can remember renting the episodes from Blockbuster over and over and over again with the sisters. I'm pretty sure we had lyrics memorized.
I’m totally buying the DVDs . . . and pretending they’re for my niece . . . whenever she comes to visit.
My Bradley.
As this blog is becoming more about me posting tid-bit crap as opposed to anything substantial (as if that actually happened before) here are a couple more movies I can’t wait to see. (Read: Jodie Foster is a badass.)
(Brad: My womb would be many times fruitful.)
Yay, movies!! (Insert clapping here.)
(Brad: My womb would be many times fruitful.)
Yay, movies!! (Insert clapping here.)
September 7, 2007
Us, professionals?
Interesting . . . and disturbing.
O.K. (Sigh), I'll Join Facebook / BusinessWeek, Jon Fine
O.K. (Sigh), I'll Join Facebook / BusinessWeek, Jon Fine
This makes me sound like a character in a John Hughes movie getting all angsty over the high school cafeteria seating chart, I suppose, but no one can deny that the world of work is the high school cafeteria all over again. (For the rest of our lives.) At any rate, I hereby make the time commitment to join yet another social network—my fourth—and to commingle whatever of my social spheres I find there. If I don't respond to your friend request, it's only because I (cough) misplaced it around here somewhere.
September 6, 2007
Would you let Viggo hold your hand, Shmooby?
I effing loved A History of Violence and I can't wait to see Cronenberg's new one. This looks awesome. (I love me some tats.)
And I also wouldn't mind having a good squeeze of Viggo's face.
Official Site: Eastern Promises (I must say, I like the typography. Simple. Classic. Nice site. Big geek.)
And I also wouldn't mind having a good squeeze of Viggo's face.
Official Site: Eastern Promises (I must say, I like the typography. Simple. Classic. Nice site. Big geek.)
September 5, 2007
I like my Jesus to party.
Dear eight pound, six ounce, newborn infant baby Jesus, I love this movie.
Gooooood morning.
August 30, 2007
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.
Goodnight.
August 29, 2007
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.
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.
August 28, 2007
Chinese, my ass.
The Martin Luther King Memorial Causes a Stir
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:
Hot friggin' damn. Word, Bootsy. Word.
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.
August 22, 2007
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
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.
Working on 4 hours of sleep. This is pretty much all you're getting today.
August 10, 2007
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.
Killing Mandy's Magic to commence at 11:59 p.m. tonight.
August 9, 2007
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 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.
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.
"Whatever you're wearing is enchanting!"
Note to self: wear this mix of lotion and perfume EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR REST OF LIFE.
August 8, 2007
August 7, 2007
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
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
ass-hat
I'm right, you're wrong.
Example of said insult used in a sentence:
Cristina, you ass-hat, you're wrong.
Example of said insult used in a sentence:
Cristina, you ass-hat, you're wrong.
August 6, 2007
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.
Anyone else want to come to my pity party? It'll be taking place all week.
August 4, 2007
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
August 3, 2007
August 1, 2007
To my Mam:
PINCH PUNCH FIRST DAY OF THE MONTH!
WHITE RABBIT WHITE RABBIT WHITE RABBIT!
I win. (You cheat.)
WHITE RABBIT WHITE RABBIT WHITE RABBIT!
I win. (You cheat.)
All writery and shit.
Funny little idea . . .
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest - 2007 Results
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.
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.
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