Sunday, November 10, 2002

This is not working

Blogger hasn't been posting me for a while. They're sorry and they're working on it. I don't have time, technically, to complain about this, however.

It's been long enough since my last published post that everyone who would've been reading this on a regular basis (one person? two?) will have given up.

I'm sorry...

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

Oh, gosh! Did we forget to declare war?

Just in case you rely, as I did, on American sources of news, you might have missed this little news story. In case you don't want to click, here's the first paragraph: "About 100 U.S. and British aircraft took part in an attack on Iraq's major western air defence installation yesterday in the biggest single operation over the country in four years." Yesterday meaning September 6th, 2002. Don't trust Canada? Search the archives of the Irish Independent for September 6th, 2002. What the hell is USA Today doing that they didn't manage to pick up on that little tidbit of information?

Sunday, September 08, 2002

As if yelling into the void weren't enough

I've been tape recording rants and then, at a later enough date to render the rants completely meaningless, playing them back for the void. Is this the type of thing where if you remove meaning threefold or twentyfold, eventually it will be meaningful again? If it ever was?


Oh, who cares.

Sunday, August 25, 2002

Oh, how to summarize the recent events

Well, I'll be getting paid here soon, for the first time in over a month. Maybe almost two months. It's a lot more than I'm used to being paid, because it's all saved up for the end of the month, and because I'm working a job that other people have deemed worth more per month than the last ones. It's kind of fun- feels like I'm being paid this chunk of money for doing nothing, but it comes after a long period of feeling like I was doing all this crap for no money. I don't know if it's worth it.

Interesting that I chose to start with money... it's one of the only concrete, good things that I can really express in a paragraph. Another thing of that nature is the fact that with the click of a button, I can send e-mail to 23 people, and theoretically, in that e-mail I could command them to do something and then they would all do it. Wa-ha. Waa-haa-haa-haa.

So, when we moved, we put the television sets and entertainment center into the storage areas in our apartment. I could say that this was because we wanted to purge our brains of the daily innundation of idiocy, and on my roomie's part, that was probably it. I, however, just didn't want to try to arrange the living room furniture with that monstrosity in there.
It's weird, not having a television out. Quiet. I can think long, extended, looping and twirling thoughts. I'm not as angry, part of my old dose of daily anger coming from the fucking commercials other human beings see it somehow in their interests to subject people to. And I rarely, rarely miss it. We got it out last weekend and had a Monk marathon. (Tony Shaloub is an amazing actor.) Mom's been taping it for me.
I'd definitely recommend dumping television. I don't see anything wrong with it, per se, but it wasted SO MUCH TIME. It's kind of like having a person in your living room, whose job it is to tempt you not to do stuff that's actually constructive. I never even realized how much time it wasted, but I've found myself actually cooking stuff occasionally, reading more, writing in my journal more, and getting more sleep. I missed sleep.

Best wishes. To you and yours. Best best best wishes.

Saturday, July 20, 2002

My dog is staring at me.

I am pretending not to know what he wants, when we all know that I know exactly what he wants. He wants to go outside and eat some more of whatever he found in the brush this morning while I was in a conversation with a girl named Ling who I might not ever ever see again. I think he has an addictive personality, because the things that he finds and eats drive him to do crazy things, like run off to the park by himself and stare planitively for hours on end. When I look over at him, he wags.

I should be packing. I have a week left in this silly apartment, and tomorrow is my birthday.

Friday, July 05, 2002

Bad Coca-Cola! No fourth-quarter earnings rise for you!

For a fascinating news story about how Coca-Cola may have gypped a certain Bob Kolody out of credit for their ad campaign, see The Guerrilla News Network. Why are news networks telling us about what underwear to wear with our new hiphugger jeans, or teaching us how to pick out bras that fit right when major corporations are locked in secret copyright lawsuits or embezzling millions of dollars in other cases, and there also happens to be a war going on?

Thursday, July 04, 2002


or maybe the day before, I made a collage that wasn't so much a collage but more like some pictures stuck to a purple piece of scrapbooking paper that had been typed all over with slightly incoherent ramblings and then home-laminated (covered in a layer of clear packing tape). Today I will make one using the theme of personal and classified ads. Somebody is giving away a snake.

Today is sad, because 'tis a day we had really been looking forward to, but then the reason we were looking forward to it got blown all to hell. I hate it when that happens, because the day still comes and all you have to do is sit around watching television and type on your blog about how it sucks.

Wednesday, July 03, 2002

Fun Plug o' the Day: The Animal Rescue Site

Click every day to give food to homeless animals. DO IT. Please.

Thursday, June 20, 2002

Because you only call somebody a heinous bitch if you really love them...

The 10-day "without you" trial began yesterday. Mind-crushing lonliness.

And *everything* is breaking.

Monday, June 10, 2002

I had this dream where you came to your senses

and then we were happy.

I woke up unable to remember what was real and what I'd imagined. Surely you must have come to your senses...

But, alas, the e-mail made it clear that it had been a dream. Call the ring guy, ask for our money back. Why would I agree to that? Oh, yes, it's because I didn't understand. I didn't understand anything, apparently. That's why all this is happening.

And that FUCKING guy won't FUCKING shut up.

Wednesday, May 29, 2002

I'd thought I was having withdrawal

from caffeine, but it might just be withdrawal from health, because my throat hurts, too. Oh woe, woe, woe. Woe.

Monday, May 20, 2002

Not an embodiment - the sound itself

Last night, I dreamed I was the voice of God. It was whack, man.

And then, just now, I was staring at the phone and it rang.

Right now I should be reading King Lear, which really is more interesting than I'd expected (that Shakespeare sure can write a conflict, man) but is still not alluring enough to draw me away from the internet, which actually is not particularly interesting either. It's just a matter of attention inertia.

Sunday, May 19, 2002

Melted Candles

As if there weren't enough to be sad about in my own life, I am borrowing other people's endings to be sad about. Which is stupid.

So we've got an apartment lined up for next year, and hopefully more years to come. It's a dream apartment - huge, washer/dryer IN the apartment, an extra bedroom, a fireplace that we'll hopefully not use, all for only $20 more than we're paying now for something not nearly as dream. As the Other is exploring the rest of the place one last time, I joke to the landlord, "So, what, is this place haunted or something?" And, of course, the "wind" blows the front door open. So, which is worse to share an apartment with, a ghost with an ironic sense of timing, or a swarm of roaches as big as the dog? Because although we didn't see any actual roaches in the other place we looked at, the 1" gap between the wall and the floorboard in most of the rooms was indicator enough. They would probably help us move in, and take a piece of furniture as compensation.

Wednesday, May 08, 2002

After rambling about how the media sensationalizes everything,

she read a story about how women in China are getting their bones broken and stretched out to be taller. I want to sit her down and yell at her for all my time that she's wasted with stories about how wonderful she is and smart and educated, and crap that is misrepresented and stupid.

Sunday, May 05, 2002

Skittering, inebriated, and high from nothing.

If I am suddenly called upon to rule the world, in my first order of business would be the decree that it's now a matriarchy and that all men have to shave their legs and pubic hair ('pits, too) unless they really want to gross everyone out and not have sex with anybody except women who are to, from now on, be considered sexually deviant. This will be among other, more practical orders of business, such as making people stop killing one another.

Yesterday was happiness-inducing. Today was alright.

Sunday, April 28, 2002

Zounds! It was a backslash. Stupid stupid backslash.
Umm... I can't help but wonder why everything is huge all of a sudden - it's like my blog was imported from Giant Land (Level 4) of that Super Mario Brothers 3 game. But I'm not sure how to change it, so I'll just have to sound as if I'm shouting for a while.

Last night I realized two things:

A) What I wrote was good, really good, and could yet be better, and
B) I am a Feeler. A hard-core tissue-toting cares-about-relationships feeler.

Today, I bought things. Parfum oils (now I can smell like a hippie) and beads (and wear hippie beads). It's been a slow weekend, and wonderful and creatively arty and laid-back and generally very nice. Right now I'm supposed to be reading articles that I will be tested on tomorrow as if the information contained therein is not propagandistic or subjective.

It's all about the environment, man, and not just like trees 'n shit. It's about how rooms feel, about how the colors affect you or what the smells remind you of. It's about being very picky about what things you want influencing you on a daily basis. I've been feeling frustrated by the crappiness of everything and feeling bad about how I'd like to be surrounded by things that make me feel a certain way, but it seems that we can't help this relationship, and just need to attempt to take control of it and figure out what's healthy for ourselves.

Um, yes, I'm finished. But a glimpse of what I'm talking about, this "feeling a certain way" might be helped by a visual: city could not stop. Aaahhh.

Friday, April 26, 2002

Do I have a look about me that says

"offer me free grocery coupons"?
"try to convert me"?
"I work here"?
"I am displeased with my long distance carrier"?

Then why does not the world leave me alone?

Free grocery coupons?

We figured out that the GRE sells information to companies who send pounds and pounds of junk mail. The Educational Testing Service is screwing you, screwing everyone! You are forced to take their tests and then they sell your name and address to the highest bidder! They make money off of inconveniencing you! Do something about it!

What if you're a malcontent but you can't help it? Think the world practically begs it of you?

Sunday, April 07, 2002

Fush me, baby!

It's weird how one can often see oneself reflected in the others, who are often miles away. Maybe you are right, baby, and we all share the same consciousness. Maybe, as a punishment for something bad the world did (like create evil!), the Mind split itself into billions of little pieces and hid them in humans, and humans lament the pain and lonliness and wondering that is alienation from the Mind.

If you ever want to become a vegetarian, here is a good tip from me, based only on my experience as a vegetarian: DO NOT eat fake meat products until you have pretty much forgotten what real meat tastes like (which in my case was a year and seven days). Then, eating a Smart Dog (soy hot dog) will be a joyous and guilt-free experience.

This quarter is reminding me why I hated high school so much. But, despite this, I am in a very good mood today. La

Wednesday, March 13, 2002

My 'uge notebook is something to google at.

Sunday, March 10, 2002

that sounds vaguely illegal...

Happy Weekend of Debauchery. Today is Sunday of Penance, which I've been observing strictly since I got up at 11am, which was probably a bad start. But I'm making some progress in the pile of work to be done before 2 Fridays from now.


Thursday, March 07, 2002


If you, who you know who you are, have received e-mails from me and/or recently gotten a new account that I don't know about, please e-mail me with something to the effect of how you're still alive. Your website is back up, which I did notice, which I'd imagine implies something about the lack of the need to join any of our good country's military branches, which I'm happy about if you are. Eh?

If you don't know who you are, then maybe you should be thinking about that... or watching tv or cooking me dinner or something. I dunno.

ps - sigma hat no longer funny.

Thursday, February 28, 2002

A cross between Don Music and a hungover Beatle

My statistically significant other comes in with p < .001, so I think I'll keep him.

The Dean wants numbers, and I am here to give them to him.

Eight people visited this site last week. Eight people visit the site every week. It's weird. Who are you, eight people? You are not me.

Sigma-hat. Heh. Sigma-hat makes me laugh. It's sigma-cold outside! Speaking of hats, I have seen 3 hats that have obviously been dropped and forgotten today, on the floor or ground. Three hatless people walking around. Six cold ears. Sigma-ears cold without their sigma-hats.

The butter they put on my bagel today was very neon-colored. I was alarmed.

Friday, February 22, 2002

Yesterday, I accidentally

poked my dog in the eye. I felt really bad, but he forgave me instantly and let me know by rolling on his back and submitting to me.
We think our dog is very well behaved, but it might just be that he interprets our klutzy accidental hurtings-of-him as puttings-of-him-in-his-place. That would be sad.

Many things have come up recently, randomly, seemingly, but perhaps not. These things are: Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, overstuffed/broken/dissappearing e-mail boxes, and ... well, actually only two things. But they've come up a lot.

eeym seeeeeeew bizzy. Ugh.

Friday, February 15, 2002

It's Friday night.

StinkDog is asleep on the floor. Other is in the shower. Friend is discovering her true love of women. I...

I am a sucker for dictionaries. I am sleepy. I am rather lonely. And boring. And I am doing nothing.

Today, we were to give a presentation in a class about Revision. Not Editing, not Proofreading, but Revision. We went to the room with our Power.Point.Presentation. and started setting up. The instructor wasn't there, but her stuff was. She breezes in, and said, "oh, wow, you're here already?" He is setting up the computer. I say, yes... we're doing the revision workshop today... She looks confused. "Well... okay..." I say, are you so-and-so? "No, I'm so-and-so." Well, I say, then we're in the wrong classroom.
She had called for tech support to set up the projector and computer and screen, which we had done before she returned.
We were not tech support. We were just misguided writing tutors wanting to talk about Revision.
The room we were supposed to present in did not have a projector.


Still got through it. How? I do not remember.

Friday, February 08, 2002

Marshmallow is too airy.

I got a box that is blue with shiny gold from Alaska via Virginia and Indiana, and this year is going into it. From the shoe sale of last weekend, I got another box (asics) into which I will transfer last year, which, for the moment, is in a lidless box (adidas) because there is no hope of finding the lid.

I read all this nice flowing sparkly warm prose of other weblogs and I think of flowing sparkly warm prose of my own, but it doesn't come to me when I'm here.

Marshmallow sucks.

I must say, I like bluishorange, but the comment-love-fest is starting to grate a bit. I've stopped reading them for the most part, because they remind me of high school mentality, only now it's not high school so those of us who were shunned in high school actually have a shot at being liked by a person with some celebrity.