Friday, May 31, 2002
And oh good lord, how did I forget this? Bryan is rocking a new layout as well, with a cleverly integrated photoblog. Mmmmmmm. So I'm sorry for forgetting you in the earlier post, man, and now you get A WHOLE BLOG ENTRY ALL TO YOURSELF. Because you rox0r.
11:55 PM | e-mail |
11:55 PM | e-mail |
A few things that happened while I was away -- Ghost In The Machine got spiff new digs, and Luke got completely fucked over by assholes. I am sending many positive wishes his way; I don't know him but I know he doesn't deserve this.
9:16 PM | e-mail |
9:16 PM | e-mail |
Excerpted from Jeremy's away message:
8:34 PM | e-mail |
Excerpted from NYU's humor publication, The Plague:I laugh. I feel dirty. But I laugh.
Things Retards Say After Watching Moulin Rouge:
"Nicole Kidman dances. Fart my ear."
"Gffg, ah, Mr. AHHHH."
"This was not X-Men, John lied. This was not X-Men."
"I think it made me gay. What is gay?"
"Where's Jimmy Stewart?"
8:34 PM | e-mail |
All right. Let's see if this fucker works.
If you're wondering why you haven't been able to get through to the site, it's because a combination of record-setting traffic (you love me! you love me!) and bandwidth-crunching redesign (I hate myself! I hate myself!) overdrew my 1 GB bandwidth allotment at Doteasy. They appear to have had mercy and restored my site to the land of the living. I don't know why since technically it's not June 1st yet, but hey...
I don't know how much I'm going to get spanked for this financially -- I don't expect it's too severe -- but I don't know how I'm gonna pay for it, since I think the credit card Doteasy has on file is maxed out and I don't get a paycheck until the 13th of June (though when I do get that paycheck, it is gonna be P-FAT phat fat. Mmmm, money).
There is oh so very much else to blog about, but I'm too jumbled in the head and too full of good food in the tummy to pursue it properly. Give me time to digest on all levels.
In the meantime, play around with the sexy new comments template! I made it m'self! (Well, not really, I rearranged elements from a publicly shared template at YACCS and I needed help from Stuart to even do that. My web-fu is weak). See you again soon.
8:01 PM | e-mail |
If you're wondering why you haven't been able to get through to the site, it's because a combination of record-setting traffic (you love me! you love me!) and bandwidth-crunching redesign (I hate myself! I hate myself!) overdrew my 1 GB bandwidth allotment at Doteasy. They appear to have had mercy and restored my site to the land of the living. I don't know why since technically it's not June 1st yet, but hey...
I don't know how much I'm going to get spanked for this financially -- I don't expect it's too severe -- but I don't know how I'm gonna pay for it, since I think the credit card Doteasy has on file is maxed out and I don't get a paycheck until the 13th of June (though when I do get that paycheck, it is gonna be P-FAT phat fat. Mmmm, money).
There is oh so very much else to blog about, but I'm too jumbled in the head and too full of good food in the tummy to pursue it properly. Give me time to digest on all levels.
In the meantime, play around with the sexy new comments template! I made it m'self! (Well, not really, I rearranged elements from a publicly shared template at YACCS and I needed help from Stuart to even do that. My web-fu is weak). See you again soon.
8:01 PM | e-mail |
Tuesday, May 28, 2002
Any night which contains both a walk on the beach with friends and ice cream is damn near perfect.
Of course it's not perfect for two reasons, one being that I have to work tomorrow, and the other being something that just happened that is probably completely inconsequential but which is pissing me off anyway. Grrrr. God, I hate being so sensitive. I never used to be. It's a recent development.
Anyway, I'm off to read and sleep. Today is easily going to be the busiest day in the site's history hit-count-wise. Again. Thank you, guys. I dunno what I did to deserve all the amazing people I've encountered through weblogging, but I'm glad I did it. (Sigh. Why do my page hits, of all things, get me maudlin? I'm such scum...)
9:38 PM | e-mail |
Of course it's not perfect for two reasons, one being that I have to work tomorrow, and the other being something that just happened that is probably completely inconsequential but which is pissing me off anyway. Grrrr. God, I hate being so sensitive. I never used to be. It's a recent development.
Anyway, I'm off to read and sleep. Today is easily going to be the busiest day in the site's history hit-count-wise. Again. Thank you, guys. I dunno what I did to deserve all the amazing people I've encountered through weblogging, but I'm glad I did it. (Sigh. Why do my page hits, of all things, get me maudlin? I'm such scum...)
9:38 PM | e-mail |
Put yourself on the map -- NYC Bloggers, organized by subway stop. Spiffy. I've signed up...
6:39 PM | e-mail |
By my senior year of high school I was an officer in my school's Drama League but was personally not much impressed, or satisfied, by my theatrical career. I'd had small parts in a few shows, and one big part -- Professor Plum in Clue (we'd just hijacked the film script -- fuck you, royalties and copyright! -- and staged it, with much chaos along the way; that one's an entirely different story). Of all those parts, only my performance as Plum didn't suck rancid ass. I'd spent far more time behind the scenes moving sets, rigging props (two words: floating fetus), and the like. So by the time the second play of my senior year rolled around, I'd resigned myself to staying offstage, and took on the role of stage manager -- the last thing I needed to do before becoming eligible to direct our (as yet undetermined) third and final show.
The play we were doing as our one-act was called Lizzie Loves Joe Loves Sharon. It had never been staged before. It was written by Susan Johnston, a former student of our drama teacher (the utterly inimitable Doc Blackwood. I could fill volumes with description of, and admiration for, that lady; but I'll spare you the time right now). She was a grad student at NYU, and the previous year, we'd staged another of her original works, Death Of The Smiley Face, also for the first time; after our performance, it picked up a publishing deal. We didn't originally intend to do two plays by her in a row -- this time out, we'd solicited several one-act scripts from the graduate playwriting department at NYU, but to be frank, the results we got back were so dire that there was almost no choice. We went with what we knew.
Of course, it didn't hurt that Lizzie... was a pretty good play. Both it and Death Of The Smiley Face were based on Susan's high-school experiences. Death Of The Smiley Face was overwhelmingly dark, but also very comic at times; it told the story of her best friend, Smiley, a closeted homosexual who wound up killing himself a few years out of high school. Ten years later, the author-character attends her high-school reunion and goes on a murderous rampage against the people she thought responsible for his torment. (This play was staged a mere two months before Columbine -- can I just say "holy shit"). Guns, swearing, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show figured in heavily. We performed it once and were shut down by our school's administration when the actors got a wee bit carried away on-stage and started improvising on the language, significantly upping the profanity count.
Our performance of that show was strong, but could've been stronger; it was handicapped by a committee of directors and constant speculation re: what the administration was going to allow us to do from the scriptwriting process right up to the night it closed. Lizzie... was a safer bet. It was lighter in every way, but still playful enough to be interesting. It was, basically, a straight-up love triangle '80s high school flashback story, juxtaposed (like Smiley) against the goings-on in the lives of the characters as adults. Despite rather a lot of romanticizing and weepiness, it was a comedy all the way.
But. Because it was a play by Susan Johnston, it was required to contain cross-dressing. So in comes the Fairy Dragmama -- a one-scene character who, in a brief flight of fantasy, outfits Sharon in her prom gown, gives her various inspiring you-go-girl messages, and basically plays to the groundlings.
Now please believe me when I tell you that I had no active desire to dress up in drag. I didn't even have a subconscious one. I wasn't out at the time, though I was fully aware of, and fully OK with, the fact that I was gay. I did have a very active desire to give one more good performance before I left the Drama League. And so, accompanied by much hemming and hawing and negotiation to see if it was possible (originally I was thinking of abandoning directing altogether for taking a shot at the lead male in Lizzie; I think I'm glad I didn't, since I probably wouldn't've gotten it), I stayed on as stage manager and auditioned for this one-scene part. And lo, I got it.
And bollocksed it up completely.
It was an uninspiring performance, I think. I got loads of compliments on it, but go figure; I'd put in fake boobs, nobody was gonna tell me the humiliation wasn't worth it. I didn't suck out loud, but I didn't exactly nail it, either. The shoes were hopelessly impractical and my voice was absurd (dear Cameron: why didn't you let me play her with the affected British accent, you asshole? ;-D Seriously, though, it would've helped me, I think...) and I tottered about the stage awkwardly, giving it a weird mixture of gleeful abandon and subconscious restraint. I really didn't want to be flaming, even if this character gave me an excuse to be; so my personal reservations about my own self crippled my performance. Which I think we can all agree is Bad Acting in its purest form.
But of course the play took first place at district competition and we had to perform it at States. So I was stuck in a dress for three more months.
I was better by the time we performed there -- a tiny bit more confident, better shoes, a new costume that was a lot more Cinderella and a lot less Priscilla Queen Of The Desert -- but at that point it didn't really matter to me anymore; I was too disappointed in myself from before to really have too much fun with it. The show did exceptionally well at States, too, but as far as I'm concerned, it was no thanks to me.
The irony is that I did, finally, end up giving a personally satisfying performance that year -- not great, but good -- as Garcin in a little-seen Drama-class workshop production of No Exit. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned there about going looking for greatness. Or perhaps there aren't.
So. That's the tale of my shame. For once, I've actually come back and told the story I procrastinated on. Wow.
3:29 PM | e-mail |
The play we were doing as our one-act was called Lizzie Loves Joe Loves Sharon. It had never been staged before. It was written by Susan Johnston, a former student of our drama teacher (the utterly inimitable Doc Blackwood. I could fill volumes with description of, and admiration for, that lady; but I'll spare you the time right now). She was a grad student at NYU, and the previous year, we'd staged another of her original works, Death Of The Smiley Face, also for the first time; after our performance, it picked up a publishing deal. We didn't originally intend to do two plays by her in a row -- this time out, we'd solicited several one-act scripts from the graduate playwriting department at NYU, but to be frank, the results we got back were so dire that there was almost no choice. We went with what we knew.
Of course, it didn't hurt that Lizzie... was a pretty good play. Both it and Death Of The Smiley Face were based on Susan's high-school experiences. Death Of The Smiley Face was overwhelmingly dark, but also very comic at times; it told the story of her best friend, Smiley, a closeted homosexual who wound up killing himself a few years out of high school. Ten years later, the author-character attends her high-school reunion and goes on a murderous rampage against the people she thought responsible for his torment. (This play was staged a mere two months before Columbine -- can I just say "holy shit"). Guns, swearing, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show figured in heavily. We performed it once and were shut down by our school's administration when the actors got a wee bit carried away on-stage and started improvising on the language, significantly upping the profanity count.
Our performance of that show was strong, but could've been stronger; it was handicapped by a committee of directors and constant speculation re: what the administration was going to allow us to do from the scriptwriting process right up to the night it closed. Lizzie... was a safer bet. It was lighter in every way, but still playful enough to be interesting. It was, basically, a straight-up love triangle '80s high school flashback story, juxtaposed (like Smiley) against the goings-on in the lives of the characters as adults. Despite rather a lot of romanticizing and weepiness, it was a comedy all the way.
But. Because it was a play by Susan Johnston, it was required to contain cross-dressing. So in comes the Fairy Dragmama -- a one-scene character who, in a brief flight of fantasy, outfits Sharon in her prom gown, gives her various inspiring you-go-girl messages, and basically plays to the groundlings.
Now please believe me when I tell you that I had no active desire to dress up in drag. I didn't even have a subconscious one. I wasn't out at the time, though I was fully aware of, and fully OK with, the fact that I was gay. I did have a very active desire to give one more good performance before I left the Drama League. And so, accompanied by much hemming and hawing and negotiation to see if it was possible (originally I was thinking of abandoning directing altogether for taking a shot at the lead male in Lizzie; I think I'm glad I didn't, since I probably wouldn't've gotten it), I stayed on as stage manager and auditioned for this one-scene part. And lo, I got it.
And bollocksed it up completely.
It was an uninspiring performance, I think. I got loads of compliments on it, but go figure; I'd put in fake boobs, nobody was gonna tell me the humiliation wasn't worth it. I didn't suck out loud, but I didn't exactly nail it, either. The shoes were hopelessly impractical and my voice was absurd (dear Cameron: why didn't you let me play her with the affected British accent, you asshole? ;-D Seriously, though, it would've helped me, I think...) and I tottered about the stage awkwardly, giving it a weird mixture of gleeful abandon and subconscious restraint. I really didn't want to be flaming, even if this character gave me an excuse to be; so my personal reservations about my own self crippled my performance. Which I think we can all agree is Bad Acting in its purest form.
But of course the play took first place at district competition and we had to perform it at States. So I was stuck in a dress for three more months.
I was better by the time we performed there -- a tiny bit more confident, better shoes, a new costume that was a lot more Cinderella and a lot less Priscilla Queen Of The Desert -- but at that point it didn't really matter to me anymore; I was too disappointed in myself from before to really have too much fun with it. The show did exceptionally well at States, too, but as far as I'm concerned, it was no thanks to me.
The irony is that I did, finally, end up giving a personally satisfying performance that year -- not great, but good -- as Garcin in a little-seen Drama-class workshop production of No Exit. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned there about going looking for greatness. Or perhaps there aren't.
So. That's the tale of my shame. For once, I've actually come back and told the story I procrastinated on. Wow.
3:29 PM | e-mail |
Do you like New Order? Why not? Start, you asshole! But anyway, if you answered in the affirmative in the first place, then you'll enjoy these bits of news: the band plan to release a boxed set of rarities and a new album in 2003, and Kylie Minogue's going to put her "Blue Monday"-sampling re-version of "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" on her new single. In the words of Rivers Cuomo, hip hip.
Y'know, whenever I think of "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" now, I either hear it as the Blue Monday remix or as this spectacular bootleg by Osymyso that I got from Boomselection, which blends it with Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines" and Mirwais' "Naive Song." I never hear the original in my head anymore.
So. D'you wanna download Kylie's live performance of the remix at last year's Brit Awards? Sure you do! And I'll share the Osymyso track later.
10:36 AM | e-mail |
Y'know, whenever I think of "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" now, I either hear it as the Blue Monday remix or as this spectacular bootleg by Osymyso that I got from Boomselection, which blends it with Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines" and Mirwais' "Naive Song." I never hear the original in my head anymore.
So. D'you wanna download Kylie's live performance of the remix at last year's Brit Awards? Sure you do! And I'll share the Osymyso track later.
10:36 AM | e-mail |
Monday, May 27, 2002
Guimp.com: The world's smallest website. SCORE! I smell a writeup coming on.
(via Metafilter)
6:51 PM | e-mail |
(via Metafilter)
6:51 PM | e-mail |
SimonPear (7:02:55 PM): ooh. humiliating people is fun. have you got any embarrassing pictures of yourself you'd like to share? :P
logovisual (7:03:03 PM): As a matter of fact...
logovisual (7:03:28 PM): I think it's time I scanned the picture of me in drag.
It was for a play, OK? IT WAS FOR A PLAY.
The full story of which will be forthcoming, actually, once I've relaxed and decompressed from my first day back at work. If you see me online, bug me to write about it, it's worth the telling.
6:15 PM | e-mail |
logovisual (7:03:03 PM): As a matter of fact...
logovisual (7:03:28 PM): I think it's time I scanned the picture of me in drag.
It was for a play, OK? IT WAS FOR A PLAY.
The full story of which will be forthcoming, actually, once I've relaxed and decompressed from my first day back at work. If you see me online, bug me to write about it, it's worth the telling.
6:15 PM | e-mail |
Sunday, May 26, 2002
Oops. Ha ha.
I, umm, kind of forgot to make one of the parts of the site that was intended to accompany the redesign -- namely, the "Music" section. Heh heh, silly me... soooo if you clicked that link and found yourself faced with an ugly, non-functional page or six, then I apologize. Give me a few days and I'll have that area running, but as it stands, I definitely jumped the proverbial gun. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Feel free to yell at me about this in the COMMENTS. Cough, cough.
11:30 AM | e-mail |
I, umm, kind of forgot to make one of the parts of the site that was intended to accompany the redesign -- namely, the "Music" section. Heh heh, silly me... soooo if you clicked that link and found yourself faced with an ugly, non-functional page or six, then I apologize. Give me a few days and I'll have that area running, but as it stands, I definitely jumped the proverbial gun. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Feel free to yell at me about this in the COMMENTS. Cough, cough.
11:30 AM | e-mail |
Ladies and gentlemen, we have comments. SING FOR ME! NOW! (I don't care if you say something meaningful, just babble at me...)
11:04 AM | e-mail |
11:04 AM | e-mail |
Saturday, May 25, 2002
Le sigh. I had to break out my beautiful and unbearably sexual new design on a Saturday, the day when my page visits go plunging down into the toilet, didn't I. I'm not sure what's more depressing: my lack of hits or the intensity of my concern about that lack. Either way, it's gross and needs to stop.
In any event, I'm going to go to sleep now, so that I might rise early and enjoy my last day of freedom before returning to the grind. Of course it's not totally free, since I have to go pick my parents up at the airport in the middle of the fucking night. And my brother and sister-in-law are here at the house with some friends of theirs, so I no longer have the place to myself, either. (Also, the presence of their friends complicates my intent to come out to them this weekend... still playing it by ear.) BUT REGARDLESS. Tomorrow I will enjoy myself, and I will watch Donnie Darko since I need to bring it back to the video store on Monday morning. Yes. IT WILL BE DONE. (Oh, and I've got to redesign the Mediablog. But that's definitely secondary.)
Off to bed, then. (Oh yeah -- and I'm thinking of you, hope everything went OK with your friends and I'm sorry I missed your call... keep me posted, K?)
10:06 PM | e-mail |
In any event, I'm going to go to sleep now, so that I might rise early and enjoy my last day of freedom before returning to the grind. Of course it's not totally free, since I have to go pick my parents up at the airport in the middle of the fucking night. And my brother and sister-in-law are here at the house with some friends of theirs, so I no longer have the place to myself, either. (Also, the presence of their friends complicates my intent to come out to them this weekend... still playing it by ear.) BUT REGARDLESS. Tomorrow I will enjoy myself, and I will watch Donnie Darko since I need to bring it back to the video store on Monday morning. Yes. IT WILL BE DONE. (Oh, and I've got to redesign the Mediablog. But that's definitely secondary.)
Off to bed, then. (Oh yeah -- and I'm thinking of you, hope everything went OK with your friends and I'm sorry I missed your call... keep me posted, K?)
10:06 PM | e-mail |
California officials seize man's pet hippo:
Oh, and by the way: is it a giant hippo or a pygmy hippo? Make up your mind, people!
(via King Of Trash)
6:06 PM | e-mail |
Neighbors in Escondido, about 30 miles from San Diego, said they had known about the hippo for years but had never seen it, the newspaper said.It's Just. Too. Good.
"I know he used the hippo manure on his garden," said Bill Ritcher. "It can smell pretty dang bad."
Oh, and by the way: is it a giant hippo or a pygmy hippo? Make up your mind, people!
(via King Of Trash)
6:06 PM | e-mail |
BALLS. While I was out getting my schedule for work (Very doable, actually -- only eighteen scheduled hours and five on call), I missed my chance to sign up for YACCS. So, no commenting goodness until later tonight at the earliest, despite the link in the sidebar... Grrr. I am dumb.
Saw Vanilla Coke at Publix but didn't have the balls to get it with my dinner; I settled on the regular stuff. When I was a kid I used to get vanilla and chocolate Cokes all the time at this one restaurant around here that closed. I've forgotten its name, but it used to be in the Gulf Gate Mall. Even THAT doesn't exist anymore. Woe is me... I grow old, I grow old; I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, or words to that effect...
Oh yes. Also while at work, I was confronted by one of my former co-workers and was forced to admit that I did not remember her name, although I remember her quite well and liked her a lot when I worked with her (and shall again). So of course I felt like a huuuuuge ass, but I really am horribly shit with names... faces are no problem, names are impossible. (Her name, for the record, is Meredith. I shall never forget again!)
5:54 PM | e-mail |
Saw Vanilla Coke at Publix but didn't have the balls to get it with my dinner; I settled on the regular stuff. When I was a kid I used to get vanilla and chocolate Cokes all the time at this one restaurant around here that closed. I've forgotten its name, but it used to be in the Gulf Gate Mall. Even THAT doesn't exist anymore. Woe is me... I grow old, I grow old; I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, or words to that effect...
Oh yes. Also while at work, I was confronted by one of my former co-workers and was forced to admit that I did not remember her name, although I remember her quite well and liked her a lot when I worked with her (and shall again). So of course I felt like a huuuuuge ass, but I really am horribly shit with names... faces are no problem, names are impossible. (Her name, for the record, is Meredith. I shall never forget again!)
5:54 PM | e-mail |
You were wondering why I hadn't been posting, eh?
Welcome to DYFL v9.0. It's been a long time coming. And this is technically v9.3, since I've created and scrapped some other designs before posting this one... but now, yes, now, it is done.
I do so hope you like it; I was tired of the parade o' monochrome the last design represented... wanted something with a little more POW! for the summer. I think I got it. It's nowhere near as garish as some people I know, but if it offends your tender sensibilities, let me know.
And speaking of letting me know, if it breaks severely in one browser or another, I'd like to be notified; but for little glitches, you may have to suck it up. I'm really not very good at this, you know. It's viewable in the new versions of MSIE and Netscape and that's good enough for me... in the words of Meg, for best viewing, come over to my house and look at it on my monitor.
OK, now I'm off to get some damn sunshine, methinks. Enjoy the new FAQ, for one thing, and sit tight for the Mediablog's exciting makeover, which should arrive tomorrow...
3:39 PM | e-mail |
Welcome to DYFL v9.0. It's been a long time coming. And this is technically v9.3, since I've created and scrapped some other designs before posting this one... but now, yes, now, it is done.
I do so hope you like it; I was tired of the parade o' monochrome the last design represented... wanted something with a little more POW! for the summer. I think I got it. It's nowhere near as garish as some people I know, but if it offends your tender sensibilities, let me know.
And speaking of letting me know, if it breaks severely in one browser or another, I'd like to be notified; but for little glitches, you may have to suck it up. I'm really not very good at this, you know. It's viewable in the new versions of MSIE and Netscape and that's good enough for me... in the words of Meg, for best viewing, come over to my house and look at it on my monitor.
OK, now I'm off to get some damn sunshine, methinks. Enjoy the new FAQ, for one thing, and sit tight for the Mediablog's exciting makeover, which should arrive tomorrow...
3:39 PM | e-mail |
Friday, May 24, 2002
Brinson and Paul's pornographic adventures. That's some damn fine enjoyment ladies and gentlemen.
11:04 AM | e-mail |
11:04 AM | e-mail |
This article about The Red Hot Chili Peppers' new single and album is not interesting in and of itself. Until you get to the last paragraph.
10:56 AM | e-mail |
Because of the record label's concerns about illegal downloading of the single from the Internet, "By the Way" will not be sent to radio in advance of the album's release. The video for the song will hit airwaves in June.Eh? Pardon me? No single release in advance of the album?!? That's some very strange marketing they've got going on there... it definitely means the album won't have a strong opening week -- RHCP fans will turn up to buy it, but not anybody else. However, it could also mean that they're pursuing a long-term promotional strategy, which is a complete rarity in the world of the #1 platinum-in-a-week debut. I miss it. And I'm surprised record companies don't -- the last two albums to get concerted promotional pushes which lasted for over a year were Moby's Play and U2's All That You Can't Leave Behind, which have both sold over ten million copies worldwide as a result (ATYCLB has probably sold well more than that at this point, actually). So: if they're gonna do this thing right, then hats off to them, but otherwise, this is a stupid, stupid move if you're just running scared of bootleggers...
10:56 AM | e-mail |
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Happy Graduation to all my high school thugz. You know who you are. See you in a couple of hours...
4:28 PM | e-mail |
4:28 PM | e-mail |
Jesus. My dogs just fought over their food. The black lab, who's older, has randomly decided to get territorial after seven years of living with the Australian Shepherd. They fight over bones all the time, but now the lab has taken to scaring the Shepherd away from her food dish. Apparently today she decided to fight back, and now she's got a small puncture wound on her throat. Great. She seems OK, so I don't think I have to take her to the vet, but there's nothing in the world more terrifying than the sound of a dogfight...
9:41 AM | e-mail |
9:41 AM | e-mail |
Weezer and Moby debut at #3 and #4, respectively, neither with sales exceeding 200,000 copies. Ow. I went out and bought both fair and square, though OK, I might've copied MALADROIT for a couple people... I didn't want to make 'em pay $13 for a disappointing album! There are only like three or four strong tracks on there! Le sigh. Moby's album is worth a go, though, if you like Moby in the first place...
9:12 AM | e-mail |
9:12 AM | e-mail |
Wednesday, May 22, 2002
You might want to get a new design, sir. I believe that one's taken.
Nobody sasses another NYUBlogger and gets away with it.
(via Simon)
Grrr. Bad memories.
6:01 PM | e-mail |
Nobody sasses another NYUBlogger and gets away with it.
(via Simon)
Grrr. Bad memories.
6:01 PM | e-mail |
Hey hey, more press for U2log.com. They reference three of my posts. And totally miss the goddamn point about THAT MOTHERFUCKING THREAD WHEREIN --
Breathe. Breathe. *sigh*
So yes, like Prol, I think perhaps they could've done us a slightly better service, but "no such thing as bad publicity." Or whatever.
5:52 PM | e-mail |
Breathe. Breathe. *sigh*
So yes, like Prol, I think perhaps they could've done us a slightly better service, but "no such thing as bad publicity." Or whatever.
5:52 PM | e-mail |
All right, look, this entry isn't intended for any of you, it's just for one person. I'm trying to be romantic here in the only braindead way I know how. Leave me alone. >sobs<
Anyway: It is, is it? Whatever you want. I was so sure we were gonna end up with "Father Figure"... but this'll do. ;-D
However... this is for you.
1:25 PM | e-mail |
Anyway: It is, is it? Whatever you want. I was so sure we were gonna end up with "Father Figure"... but this'll do. ;-D
However... this is for you.
1:25 PM | e-mail |
You know, I'd been planning to describe here the things I'm learning about how I tend to act in my interpersonal relationships (as wanky as that sounds). But then I find that Ultrasparky already did it for me.
11:40 AM | e-mail |
11:40 AM | e-mail |
My friend Claire is in Guatemala for a month learning Spanish (there aren't enough exclamation marks in the world to describe how I feel about someone being able to just... do that. ;-D) She's just made her first LiveJournal post about it, so go check that out... and of course, I thought of her wacky voyage when I read this article at the NY Times.
12:11 AM | e-mail |
12:11 AM | e-mail |
Tuesday, May 21, 2002
Got a Digiorno's pizza in the oven (oh hush, I cooked again last night) and am waiting for it to be done so I can start watching Annie Hall, which I just rented. I'm finally starting in on my list of Films I Must See To Put An End To My Openly Disgusting And Pathetic Cultural Ignorance. That list includes, but is not limited to:
7:35 PM | e-mail |
- Citizen Kane.
- The Godfather.
- The Godfather Part II.
- Chinatown.
- Brazil.
- Psycho.
- The Seven Samurai.
7:35 PM | e-mail |
So let's say you wrote somebody a really important e-mail last night. And then you sent it to them and went to bed. And when you got up in the morning you found that it had bounced off their mailbox, which was full, but which they had previously said they were cleaning out. And so you sent it to them again, against your better judgement since the e-mail was kind of heavy and maudlin. And it bounced again. Would you...
11:56 AM | e-mail |
- Kill yourself?
- Flip out and break shit?
- Give up on trying to say the vastly important things you were trying to say and just stew in your own bitterness and reticence?
11:56 AM | e-mail |
The Pirate Website. The realultimatepower.net answer site had to come soon, I suppose... it doesn't really compare, with the exception of the keelhauling instructions, but I'm still glad it exists.
(via Lukelog)
11:52 AM | e-mail |
(via Lukelog)
11:52 AM | e-mail |
Monday, May 20, 2002
And because I should've blogged it a while ago -- Ben Affleck in the Daredevil costume. Is it just me, or does he have li'l stubby T-Rex arms? All I shall say is that it looks frighteningly like Britney's suit from the video for "Oops!... I Did It Again" and that perhaps the Pet Shop Boys should record the film's theme.
(via Ghost In The Machine)
8:09 PM | e-mail |
(via Ghost In The Machine)
8:09 PM | e-mail |
DVD Tracks -- homemade DVD commentaries. Gizza! Superb idea... now to find out if they suck or not.
(via Michele, on IM)
7:30 PM | e-mail |
(via Michele, on IM)
7:30 PM | e-mail |
Had a very bizarre day yesterday which was dubbed by one to be The Day Of Pain but which I, in fact, enjoyed. It combined such disparate elements as Jer, Italian food, Blondie, Batman: Mask Of The Phantasm, Bradenton, Andrew W.K., a short conversation with Josh, and more of Cameron than any sane person should expose themselves to. ;-D In all it was quite satisfying, despite its occasional long patches of soul-crushing desparation...
Today, however, I have to go and see if I can't get my *choke* old job back. I really, really need the money. Siiiiiiigh. Also hoping to get more of at least one of the things outlined above. And no, it's not Cameron. (Suck it, Stuart!)
11:57 AM | e-mail |
Today, however, I have to go and see if I can't get my *choke* old job back. I really, really need the money. Siiiiiiigh. Also hoping to get more of at least one of the things outlined above. And no, it's not Cameron. (Suck it, Stuart!)
11:57 AM | e-mail |
Saturday, May 18, 2002
Jeremy's behind me complaining that I update. So, ah, here's an update, you piece of shit. ;-D
In any event, he's staying with me this weekend, and we're probably going to end up seeing Attack Of The Clones (God help us), so wish us luck and strength. Right now we're killing time until it's safe to call our friends (some are at work, some are still asleep).
And now methinks we're going to watch the footage he took of our picnic in Central Park a couple weeks back. Which is really, really sad, because Josh is in it. Aaawwwwww. I'm so pathetic it's untrue.
9:36 AM | e-mail |
In any event, he's staying with me this weekend, and we're probably going to end up seeing Attack Of The Clones (God help us), so wish us luck and strength. Right now we're killing time until it's safe to call our friends (some are at work, some are still asleep).
And now methinks we're going to watch the footage he took of our picnic in Central Park a couple weeks back. Which is really, really sad, because Josh is in it. Aaawwwwww. I'm so pathetic it's untrue.
9:36 AM | e-mail |
Friday, May 17, 2002
R.E.M.IX -- R.E.M. have posted ten free remixes of tracks from Reveal on their site. Bodacious. Downloading now... why don't more bands do this sort of thing?
1:36 PM | e-mail |
1:36 PM | e-mail |
Thursday, May 16, 2002
logovisual (10:04:29 PM): My thumb smells like a breadstick and I don't know how it happened.
logovisual (10:04:36 PM): Actually, no, like a crouton.
logovisual (10:04:40 PM): Like a garlic crouton.
Friar Funk (10:04:45 PM): Maybe you were eating garlic croutons.
logovisual (10:04:50 PM): ...OK, I'm blogging this conversation before you can.
Friar Funk (10:04:58 PM): ...Fair enough.
Friar Funk (10:05:09 PM): Asshead lumberjack...
9:01 PM | e-mail |
logovisual (10:04:36 PM): Actually, no, like a crouton.
logovisual (10:04:40 PM): Like a garlic crouton.
Friar Funk (10:04:45 PM): Maybe you were eating garlic croutons.
logovisual (10:04:50 PM): ...OK, I'm blogging this conversation before you can.
Friar Funk (10:04:58 PM): ...Fair enough.
Friar Funk (10:05:09 PM): Asshead lumberjack...
9:01 PM | e-mail |
Ahem. Never mind that last post, actually... I think I just came up with a tweaked design that I like. Still lacking in color, but it's got a bit more zing! to it...
8:13 PM | e-mail |
8:13 PM | e-mail |
I really really REALLY want to redesign this site, because I'm tired of the monochrome and I'm antsy for change in general. But I can't make a color design that's not simply disgusting in every fashion. Every time I crack open Paint to whip something up, I get obnoxiously simplistic designs which are mainly white with thin black lines. I can't break out of the box. GGGRRRRRRR.
If somebody wants to redesign this place for me, they can go right ahead. I'd almost certainly shower you in praise and free music...
6:53 PM | e-mail |
If somebody wants to redesign this place for me, they can go right ahead. I'd almost certainly shower you in praise and free music...
6:53 PM | e-mail |
Paul continues to make with simply outstanding links -- continuing today's Elvis Costello love-fest, here's the man himself speaking about When I Was Cruel and his five favorites from his sizeable oeuvre, on video at Rolling Stone. Spectacular. "I Want You" was done on the first take. I gape in open-mouthed amazement...
4:38 PM | e-mail |
4:38 PM | e-mail |
Congratulations to Bryan, Fiona, and Jeremiah, who graduated from NYU today. Scary shit, eh?
11:39 AM | e-mail |
11:39 AM | e-mail |
Wednesday, May 15, 2002
Well, scratch a big personal blog entry tonight, I guess. I spent the evening doing something cute instead. ;-) Blame me if you must. I promise I will write more soon, though. If you see me on IM, bug me to do it. I'm probably not doing anything more important, after all.
10:45 PM | e-mail |
10:45 PM | e-mail |
I just cooked myself some pasta tonight. I've never done that before. Isn't that shocking? Twenty years old and I've never cooked anything more complex than Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. All I had to do for this was boil the pasta (bowties) and pour some sauce (roasted garlic alfredo) over it. I basically did OK, I think... the center of each noodle was still a bit firm, but not exactly crunchy. The water probably wasn't boiling hard enough. And now's the bit where you get to laugh at me, but boiling water is harder than one would think it is. For a complete and utter re-re like myself, anyway.
So, I'm feeling all proud and domestic now that I have cooked for myself in my parents' lovely kitchen with enjoyable music playing. It is shaping up to be an extraordinarily nice solitary evening. Perhaps I'll go take a sunset swim once dinner has settled...
(Jealous again yet?)
In any event, unless I go to the video store or something, I feel an introspective mood coming on. Expect some form of personal activity here at ye old weblog.
5:45 PM | e-mail |
So, I'm feeling all proud and domestic now that I have cooked for myself in my parents' lovely kitchen with enjoyable music playing. It is shaping up to be an extraordinarily nice solitary evening. Perhaps I'll go take a sunset swim once dinner has settled...
(Jealous again yet?)
In any event, unless I go to the video store or something, I feel an introspective mood coming on. Expect some form of personal activity here at ye old weblog.
5:45 PM | e-mail |
Bruce Springsteen for Senate? Oh my.
1:35 PM | e-mail |
They need only 800 signatures. But there is a big problem: No one has talked to Springsteen about the idea.(via King Of Trash)
Friedline was not discouraged. "It took us seven months to get Jesse Ventura to run," he said. "If Bruce Springsteen threw his hat in the ring and made a real serious run at this, I think you'd see thousands of volunteers coming out from all over the place."
1:35 PM | e-mail |
Can we put a moratorium on the phrase "fly so high" in all musical lyrics? Please? I'm sorry, but I'm just so damn tired of it, though it is a lovely and useful sentiment.
End random pickiness.
12:51 AM | e-mail |
End random pickiness.
12:51 AM | e-mail |
Tuesday, May 14, 2002
For FUCK'S SAKE.
My Creative Writing portfolio -- the entire basis of my grade in that class -- has been lost somewhere in the bowels of the NYU English Department, as a result of my being misinformed as to which mailbox was my instructor's. Sooooo now I have to next-day copies of my revised work to my teacher so she can turn in a grade by 3:00 on Thursday. Of course, a major component of the portfolio was comments by other people... and those have now been lost. I can't replace them with less representative comments, because those are all in a box slowly winging its way to Florida by parcel post. Shit on everything.
I'll bet you that I wouldn't get a good grade even if I do knock myself out sending this stuff; I missed far too many of the little administrative assignments.
Man, this wasn't needed right now.
11:31 PM | e-mail |
My Creative Writing portfolio -- the entire basis of my grade in that class -- has been lost somewhere in the bowels of the NYU English Department, as a result of my being misinformed as to which mailbox was my instructor's. Sooooo now I have to next-day copies of my revised work to my teacher so she can turn in a grade by 3:00 on Thursday. Of course, a major component of the portfolio was comments by other people... and those have now been lost. I can't replace them with less representative comments, because those are all in a box slowly winging its way to Florida by parcel post. Shit on everything.
I'll bet you that I wouldn't get a good grade even if I do knock myself out sending this stuff; I missed far too many of the little administrative assignments.
Man, this wasn't needed right now.
11:31 PM | e-mail |
A minor moment of near-tropical joy:
I love walking down the little concrete path to the front door of my house, watching a dozen flickering lizards dart out of the path of my oncoming feet. Which are, of course, bare, because I refuse to wear anything other than flip-flops until September. I tend to drive barefoot now too. Which I know is bad, but so very comfortable. The shoes are right next to me, I can bust them out if needed...
Also: while indolently sprawled out in the sunshine on our back deck this afternoon after soaking in the pool (ha ha! Take it, NYC-types! Although if it makes you feel better, I worked out today too -- I'm not a total slug), I watched a pair of dolphins swim lazily by in the Intra-Coastal Waterway. God damn it's nice here.
Just bought Maladroit with money I shouldn't have, and intend to do the same tonight with 18. Paul and I went to the grocery store today; I stocked up on supplies since my parents are gone until Memorial Day weekend. "Supplies" translates as Entenmann's doughnuts, overpriced lunch meat (roast beef and pastrami) and Spider-Man cereal. Yeah dawg. Yeah dawg.
I really do promise I'll write about the important thing that happened yesterday, but right now, I've got CDs to burn and a movie to see again.
5:53 PM | e-mail |
I love walking down the little concrete path to the front door of my house, watching a dozen flickering lizards dart out of the path of my oncoming feet. Which are, of course, bare, because I refuse to wear anything other than flip-flops until September. I tend to drive barefoot now too. Which I know is bad, but so very comfortable. The shoes are right next to me, I can bust them out if needed...
Also: while indolently sprawled out in the sunshine on our back deck this afternoon after soaking in the pool (ha ha! Take it, NYC-types! Although if it makes you feel better, I worked out today too -- I'm not a total slug), I watched a pair of dolphins swim lazily by in the Intra-Coastal Waterway. God damn it's nice here.
Just bought Maladroit with money I shouldn't have, and intend to do the same tonight with 18. Paul and I went to the grocery store today; I stocked up on supplies since my parents are gone until Memorial Day weekend. "Supplies" translates as Entenmann's doughnuts, overpriced lunch meat (roast beef and pastrami) and Spider-Man cereal. Yeah dawg. Yeah dawg.
I really do promise I'll write about the important thing that happened yesterday, but right now, I've got CDs to burn and a movie to see again.
5:53 PM | e-mail |
Monday, May 13, 2002
I am at home in Florida. I am full of Outback food. And I have just come out to my parents.
All of those things are good.
More on each as the muse strikes; for now, I'm simply too tired.
9:21 PM | e-mail |
All of those things are good.
More on each as the muse strikes; for now, I'm simply too tired.
9:21 PM | e-mail |
Sunday, May 12, 2002
Forgot to mention that yesterday, I tried to ship all my boxes, only to learn that the post office had closed at 4 because it was Saturday. OWCH. Now I'm going to have to go mail them at 9 AM tomorrow right before my final... there'd better not be a huge line is all I can say. And God only knows how I'm gonna carry them all.
There's nothing I hate more than all this logistical moving bullshit. Especially on a deadline.
I wish I could go back to exactly where I was 36 hours ago and freeze time...
9:59 AM | e-mail |
There's nothing I hate more than all this logistical moving bullshit. Especially on a deadline.
I wish I could go back to exactly where I was 36 hours ago and freeze time...
9:59 AM | e-mail |
Saturday, May 11, 2002
Well fuck me to death and back, I just wrote a poem. Of my own free will. Not as a class assignment. Holy shitballs. It was just that heady a day... dogs and goodbyes and sunlight and apartments and missed opportunities and the songs that I hear in my head. A potent mix indeed.
Back to the grind, however.
8:34 PM | e-mail |
Back to the grind, however.
8:34 PM | e-mail |
As of this moment we're in Sparse Update mode. I've got way too much to do if I intend to fly out of here on Monday morning with (a.) most of my worldly possessions accounted for, (b.) a passing grade in my last two classes, and (c.) meaningful human relationships to hold on to next semester, so I shall hopefully be devoting the vast majority of my time to taking care of those three things.
Today, I must:
So instead, I'll do that on Sunday, when I:
Wish me luck, everyone, and I apologize for the crappy tenor of the blog over the last week, but y'know, may you live in interesting times and such...
9:51 AM | e-mail |
Today, I must:
- Pack everything into a box that's going to get shipped.
- Take Josh to the train station. (God damn it God damn it God damn it... but, no, no, no more maudlin nonsense)
- Ship everything in boxes.
- Make SuperShuttle reservation.
- Go up to the Upper West Side for a gathering at my Creative Writing teacher's house (!).
- While there, swing by my sister's place and see if she left her Palm Pilot behind when she left on a work-trip.
So instead, I'll do that on Sunday, when I:
- Do all my revisions (Two short stories, four poems) for my Creative Writing class.
- Devote an hour or two to studying for my Crisis Of The Modern City exam.
- Borrow Claire's external CD burner and back up all the files on my old computer.
- Pack unneeded clothes, and my computer printer, into extra suitcase/boxes and bring them, via subway, up to my sister's apartment. (Big pain in ass.)
- Somewhere in this time, spend quality bonding moments with 14th floor friends who I won't see all summer.
Wish me luck, everyone, and I apologize for the crappy tenor of the blog over the last week, but y'know, may you live in interesting times and such...
9:51 AM | e-mail |
Friday, May 10, 2002
So that was probably one of the best nights of my life, but it's already over... now I just wanna talk to somebody, any one of my friends, just goof around and be happy. But no, no, everybody else is out enjoying their Friday. Gawd demmit.
There's not much else to say right now other than "Mmmmmmm." Uh-huh. Yep.
Four months. Long time. Must not think about it.
10:31 PM | e-mail |
There's not much else to say right now other than "Mmmmmmm." Uh-huh. Yep.
Four months. Long time. Must not think about it.
10:31 PM | e-mail |
Danced all night. Covered in sweat. So very tired. Desperately poor. Still feeling sexy. Rarrrr.
Tomorrow is gonna be great. And I think that's all that I have to say about it here.
1:10 AM | e-mail |
Tomorrow is gonna be great. And I think that's all that I have to say about it here.
1:10 AM | e-mail |
Thursday, May 09, 2002
My roommate is gone, my relationship seems safe, all my difficult academic work is completed...
Suddenly it's a very heady time to be alive.
(By the way, speaking of the relationship: don't expect too much more dirt here a la last night. From now on, nothing but frustrating obliqueness from this corner... he claims he doesn't want to censor me in any way but as far as I'm concerned he has every right to. Unless he dumps me, in which case it aaaallll comes flooding out.)
(Kidding, kidding. Mainly. God, no wonder this thing is intimidating.)
7:32 PM | e-mail |
Suddenly it's a very heady time to be alive.
(By the way, speaking of the relationship: don't expect too much more dirt here a la last night. From now on, nothing but frustrating obliqueness from this corner... he claims he doesn't want to censor me in any way but as far as I'm concerned he has every right to. Unless he dumps me, in which case it aaaallll comes flooding out.)
(Kidding, kidding. Mainly. God, no wonder this thing is intimidating.)
7:32 PM | e-mail |
P.S. wouldn't it be great if lemurs could change color based on their environment?
I love e-mail.
11:05 AM | e-mail |
I love e-mail.
11:05 AM | e-mail |
Oh my God. I might not have failed.
I can't believe this, but he put three of the very answerable questions on there. I answered them to a degree which at *least* illustrates that I have seen the material, and possibly indicates that I've thought about it as well. That might've been a B final. And I just got back my paper, which I got an A on. My God. My God, I might not have failed.
This changes my day considerably, even if it is rainy and shitty out...
Now all I have to think about is The Other Thing, which I think I've probably already fucked up, since I get the feeling that he's already read my previous proclamations and is displeased by them. I'm not so sure I stand behind them now. I mean, yes, it's true, I do feel the way I've said I feel. But it's impossible for me to say how deeply I feel it, since every time I have stress over some minor aspect of the relationship, it's compounded with stress over something academic, and the two just feed off each other and feed off each other and both stresses get blown waaaaay out of proportion.
Plus, every time I go and complain to one of my friends, or post vitriol on the weblog, it defuses me. I then find it nearly impossible to re-engage the topic when I get a chance to actually address my concerns.
Thanks again to everyone who's offered me sage advice and wise counsel in the last few days. I just hope I'm not going about this all wrong, even though I know I am.
10:17 AM | e-mail |
I can't believe this, but he put three of the very answerable questions on there. I answered them to a degree which at *least* illustrates that I have seen the material, and possibly indicates that I've thought about it as well. That might've been a B final. And I just got back my paper, which I got an A on. My God. My God, I might not have failed.
This changes my day considerably, even if it is rainy and shitty out...
Now all I have to think about is The Other Thing, which I think I've probably already fucked up, since I get the feeling that he's already read my previous proclamations and is displeased by them. I'm not so sure I stand behind them now. I mean, yes, it's true, I do feel the way I've said I feel. But it's impossible for me to say how deeply I feel it, since every time I have stress over some minor aspect of the relationship, it's compounded with stress over something academic, and the two just feed off each other and feed off each other and both stresses get blown waaaaay out of proportion.
Plus, every time I go and complain to one of my friends, or post vitriol on the weblog, it defuses me. I then find it nearly impossible to re-engage the topic when I get a chance to actually address my concerns.
Thanks again to everyone who's offered me sage advice and wise counsel in the last few days. I just hope I'm not going about this all wrong, even though I know I am.
10:17 AM | e-mail |
The test begins in half an hour. I just might be prepared enough to bullshit my way into a C; however, by the luck of the draw, I might get all the questions I'm unprepared for and be totally hardcore screwed.
Everything I've blathered about in the last twelve hours has been directly related to my stress over this exam. I am sooooo not thinking clearly right now... by noon it'll be over, for better or for worse. God help me; wish me luck.
8:27 AM | e-mail |
Everything I've blathered about in the last twelve hours has been directly related to my stress over this exam. I am sooooo not thinking clearly right now... by noon it'll be over, for better or for worse. God help me; wish me luck.
8:27 AM | e-mail |
Edited one of the posts below. I'm not sure if I wanted to but somebody told me I should and I saw the reason in it. Maybe it'll come back later; maybe it won't.
7:57 AM | e-mail |
7:57 AM | e-mail |
Wednesday, May 08, 2002
OK, two things to be pleased by:
A thousand blessings on Rachel and Cat, respectively. You guys are the bestest.
(And by the way, just to clear it up for the folks back home, my phone doesn't really play Kylie. I'm not gay enough to download a Kylie ringtone. It's just that when you lock the keypad, the tones involved are the first three notes of "Fever." I'm a sick, sad man.)
10:41 PM | e-mail |
(And by the way, just to clear it up for the folks back home, my phone doesn't really play Kylie. I'm not gay enough to download a Kylie ringtone. It's just that when you lock the keypad, the tones involved are the first three notes of "Fever." I'm a sick, sad man.)
10:41 PM | e-mail |
I just got off the phone with him. He was so exhausted as to be entirely incoherent. There was no way I was going to be able to have a rational conversation with him tonight. So I just let it go. I'm seeing him tomorrow after 5, when he gets off work. What happens then, I don't even know yet.
You know, I feel now's probably a good time to mention that in addition to all the other shit previously chronicled, today I learned that my dad's got hepatitis. Apparently he's going to be OK -- it was just a toxicity reaction from Zocor, the medication he was on, and they've got him off that and he's slowly getting better -- but his doctor told him he can't drink alcohol for a year. My father is a complete wine nut. And in a week, they were leaving on a wine-tasting trip to California.
Irony sucks fucking balls.
So anyway, my father feels like shit, I feel like shit, I'm going to fail a class which is going to make my parents quite angry at me while they feel like shit AND right before I was planning to come out to them. Literally, right before. I get home the night of the 13th, they leave the morning of the 15th. The 14th is more or less my only chance.
This may have taken the crown as "worst day of my fucking life." There are still forty minutes left in it, y'know. Maybe my dorm will catch on fire. Hey, at least I won't have to pack up my shit this weekend if it burns up.
10:17 PM | e-mail |
You know, I feel now's probably a good time to mention that in addition to all the other shit previously chronicled, today I learned that my dad's got hepatitis. Apparently he's going to be OK -- it was just a toxicity reaction from Zocor, the medication he was on, and they've got him off that and he's slowly getting better -- but his doctor told him he can't drink alcohol for a year. My father is a complete wine nut. And in a week, they were leaving on a wine-tasting trip to California.
Irony sucks fucking balls.
So anyway, my father feels like shit, I feel like shit, I'm going to fail a class which is going to make my parents quite angry at me while they feel like shit AND right before I was planning to come out to them. Literally, right before. I get home the night of the 13th, they leave the morning of the 15th. The 14th is more or less my only chance.
This may have taken the crown as "worst day of my fucking life." There are still forty minutes left in it, y'know. Maybe my dorm will catch on fire. Hey, at least I won't have to pack up my shit this weekend if it burns up.
10:17 PM | e-mail |
I talked to Cat for an hour tonight, and it calmed me significantly. It was extremely nice indeed.
But how much did I call it, y'know? How much did I fucking call it? I knew I wasn't going to be able to take the stress of this week, and here I am. I'm gonna fail this final tomorrow, because I'm blatantly unprepared and I can't relax enough to take in any meaningful information. If I do see Josh tonight -- and that's questionable, since I can't call him like he asked without waking his roommate up, and honestly, a little part of me says "don't call him anyway" -- I'm sure I won't be able to say half of what I need to tell him, or I'll try and fuck it up, or I'll just end up getting angry and send the whole thing spiralling down to shit.
The rest of this entry was removed at 9 AM on Thursday the 9th. I'm willing to guess that the damage was already done at this point, but y'know, hindsight is 20-20... but you're probably right, S. Depending on how things go perhaps I'll re-post this text for historical value.
8:46 PM | e-mail |
But how much did I call it, y'know? How much did I fucking call it? I knew I wasn't going to be able to take the stress of this week, and here I am. I'm gonna fail this final tomorrow, because I'm blatantly unprepared and I can't relax enough to take in any meaningful information. If I do see Josh tonight -- and that's questionable, since I can't call him like he asked without waking his roommate up, and honestly, a little part of me says "don't call him anyway" -- I'm sure I won't be able to say half of what I need to tell him, or I'll try and fuck it up, or I'll just end up getting angry and send the whole thing spiralling down to shit.
The rest of this entry was removed at 9 AM on Thursday the 9th. I'm willing to guess that the damage was already done at this point, but y'know, hindsight is 20-20... but you're probably right, S. Depending on how things go perhaps I'll re-post this text for historical value.
8:46 PM | e-mail |
For GOD'S FUCKING SAKE. I AM SO FUCKING PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW.
So I spent this whole day trying vainly to study because I knew I was going to see Josh tonight, right? And it was totally doing my head in, because I couldn't concentrate because I was thinking about him. The plan was that he was going to take Jeremy to the airport around 3, and leave there sometime around 5 since Jeremy's flight was at 6 and he couldn't go to the gate with him. He'd get home around 6, and sleep for a couple of hours until 8:00 (he'd been up until 4 in the morning the previous night), when I would meet him and we'd get dinner and hang out.
So I fuck this whole day up thinking about him, and then I go to give him his wake-up call at 7:40. And I wake up his roommate, Matt, who I barely know, certainly pissing him off in the process, only to learn that -- SURPRISE! -- Josh is not there. Excuse me? At 8:00 I'm getting ready to walk out the door to Josh's dorm, hoping maybe I'll run into him in the lobby, when I get a call on my cell phone. This is at 8:00, mind you, the time when we were originally scheduled to meet. Josh has just gotten home from the airport and is badly in need of sleep. His roommate also is asleep, presumably for the entire evening, since he hasn't slept since Monday night. Josh wants to know if maybe we could meet at like 11 instead, knowing full well that we both have to be asleep by 1 if we have any hope of functioning tomorrow in our respective tests/jobs.
The kicker? If I go to meet him at 11 we'll literally just be hanging out, since he can't kick his roommate out of his room and I can't kick mine out of mine -- he's got a final paper to write tonight. So we'd get two hours of just sitting around.
I've just lost my first chance to spend honest-to-God time alone with him in ten days. Ten days, do you hear that?
Could he not have FUCKING CALLED ME FROM THE AIRPORT? He had his cell phone. He knew full well I'd be at home studying, or at the very least he could've called my cell. He could've given me several hours warning on this -- he must've known by 6:00 that he was not going to get home in time to sleep -- and not deprived me of the thing I've been looking forward to for-FUCKING-ever.
The bitter irony, of course, is that I have now been given badly-needed time in which to study. But there's no way I possibly could right now because I AM TOO GODDAMN PISSED OFF.
And yes, for the record, he does read this weblog. Boy I'm glad he does.
7:08 PM | e-mail |
So I spent this whole day trying vainly to study because I knew I was going to see Josh tonight, right? And it was totally doing my head in, because I couldn't concentrate because I was thinking about him. The plan was that he was going to take Jeremy to the airport around 3, and leave there sometime around 5 since Jeremy's flight was at 6 and he couldn't go to the gate with him. He'd get home around 6, and sleep for a couple of hours until 8:00 (he'd been up until 4 in the morning the previous night), when I would meet him and we'd get dinner and hang out.
So I fuck this whole day up thinking about him, and then I go to give him his wake-up call at 7:40. And I wake up his roommate, Matt, who I barely know, certainly pissing him off in the process, only to learn that -- SURPRISE! -- Josh is not there. Excuse me? At 8:00 I'm getting ready to walk out the door to Josh's dorm, hoping maybe I'll run into him in the lobby, when I get a call on my cell phone. This is at 8:00, mind you, the time when we were originally scheduled to meet. Josh has just gotten home from the airport and is badly in need of sleep. His roommate also is asleep, presumably for the entire evening, since he hasn't slept since Monday night. Josh wants to know if maybe we could meet at like 11 instead, knowing full well that we both have to be asleep by 1 if we have any hope of functioning tomorrow in our respective tests/jobs.
The kicker? If I go to meet him at 11 we'll literally just be hanging out, since he can't kick his roommate out of his room and I can't kick mine out of mine -- he's got a final paper to write tonight. So we'd get two hours of just sitting around.
I've just lost my first chance to spend honest-to-God time alone with him in ten days. Ten days, do you hear that?
Could he not have FUCKING CALLED ME FROM THE AIRPORT? He had his cell phone. He knew full well I'd be at home studying, or at the very least he could've called my cell. He could've given me several hours warning on this -- he must've known by 6:00 that he was not going to get home in time to sleep -- and not deprived me of the thing I've been looking forward to for-FUCKING-ever.
The bitter irony, of course, is that I have now been given badly-needed time in which to study. But there's no way I possibly could right now because I AM TOO GODDAMN PISSED OFF.
And yes, for the record, he does read this weblog. Boy I'm glad he does.
7:08 PM | e-mail |
Cringe-worthy songs? Oh, I can definitely rock THAT meme.
And I'm sure that 90% of what's on the radio right now qualifies too, but I haven't turned on a radio in almost a year, so I wouldn't really know what the kids are listening to.
11:51 AM | e-mail |
- Santana - "Smooth" (I agree -- a prime offender)
- Whitney Houston - "I Will Always Love You"
- Limp Bizkit - "Faith"
- Creed - "With Arms Wide Open" (or anything else they've ever recorded, though if you hit me in the head enough times I'll admit to tolerating "What If")
- R. Kelly - "I Believe I Can Fly" (or anything else he's ever recorded, and I apologize to his fans, but there's no number of times you can hit me in the head to get me to admit to tolerating anything of his ever)
- Counting Crows - "Long December" (I'm sorry, I just don't like it at all)
- Dave Matthews Band - "Crash Into Me"
- Brandy and Monica - "The Boy Is Mine"
- Five For Fighting - "Superman"
And I'm sure that 90% of what's on the radio right now qualifies too, but I haven't turned on a radio in almost a year, so I wouldn't really know what the kids are listening to.
11:51 AM | e-mail |
By the way, Brit Lit 1 is finally done. Assuming I pass. Honestly, I did not do terribly well on that final, but I suppose that was to be expected... right now I'm way too far from caring. I'm sure it's gonna bite me on the ass later -- my parents are probably gonna be pissed if I don't do well this semester -- but my grades really are my absolute last priority right now.
Laundry, for example, is a much higher one.
I'm gonna have to spend several hours studying today for my Crit Theory final... I intend to get started around 1:30. But I do have to do the promised MP3 update to the mix-CD post... so, if you're reading this message as the newest one on the page, and you haven't downloaded the first four MP3s yet, then skedaddle on down there and get cracking!
11:15 AM | e-mail |
Laundry, for example, is a much higher one.
I'm gonna have to spend several hours studying today for my Crit Theory final... I intend to get started around 1:30. But I do have to do the promised MP3 update to the mix-CD post... so, if you're reading this message as the newest one on the page, and you haven't downloaded the first four MP3s yet, then skedaddle on down there and get cracking!
11:15 AM | e-mail |
I've never been in love with The Rolling Stones, but this is interesting. Their new tour will call at three different kinds of venues -- stadiums, arenas, and clubs. So you could, conceivably, see them at Roseland Ballroom here in NYC, or at Madison Square Garden, or at Giants Stadium. Mind you, Roseland does hold something like 3,000 people, but I guess when you're the Rolling Stones that's intimate. Don't ask me how they plan to sell tickets for shows that small without massive chaos...
11:13 AM | e-mail |
11:13 AM | e-mail |
Y'know, I tried to dot her guest-map but the arrow didn't exactly put the dot where it was supposed to. Soooooo New York City is now on the St. Lawrence Seaway somewhere. I apologize to the eight million people I just displaced.
I have to leave for my Brit Lit final in five minutes. My suitemate was in the bathroom all morning since I woke up, so I have not bathed. So now, not only am I unprepared for this final, I will also smell bad. Today is off to a rollicking great start, let me tell you... though I have high hopes for its ending.
8:30 AM | e-mail |
I have to leave for my Brit Lit final in five minutes. My suitemate was in the bathroom all morning since I woke up, so I have not bathed. So now, not only am I unprepared for this final, I will also smell bad. Today is off to a rollicking great start, let me tell you... though I have high hopes for its ending.
8:30 AM | e-mail |
Tuesday, May 07, 2002
Disconnected notes on today:
(1) I sat in on Jeremy, Josh, & co.'s year-end film-screening festival this afternoon; they hijacked a viewing room at Tisch and watched all their favorite film projects from this year. I am pleased to say that Josh's films are quite good indeed and that I do not have to break up with him. ;-) The one I'm in turned out better than I thought it would, in fact, though he seems not entirely happy with it. Jeremy's final two projects were outstandingly good (and I was only in one of them, so it's OK for me to say that in an unbiased manner). In fact, all of the projects were quite good. Talented people rock. And they make me feel inadequate. The festival also marked the last time I'll see Jeremy until possibly the 16th, which depresses me, because in the last few days I saw a lot of him and it made me very, very happy indeed to have done so.
(2) The 14th floor of my dorm went out to dinner tonight at Osso Buco for a year-end celebration. Our R.A. paid for it. Himself. I don't understand how he possibly could do this thing. I had a fine time at dinner, but all I could think about was the chunk of Paradise Lost that I hadn't read yet (I'm plowing through it now, slowly) and, well, him. Who apparently I cannot see tonight because he's got a ten-page paper to do. I fucking hate school.
(3) The new Weezer album is pleasant as far as I can tell.
(4) A few minutes ago my keyboard randomly decided that it didn't want to make periods anymore. Every other character except the period worked. I freaked out and restarted and it seems to be OK, but it was definitely one of the scarier computer-related incidents of my life... just think about how essential the period is for URLs, coherent thoughts, the kind of ellipsis that's going to end this sentence...
(5) I really want to go see him.
(6) I'm so desperately poor.
(7) I really want to go see him.
(8) I'm going to stop before this gets even weirder and scarier.
7:59 PM | e-mail |
(1) I sat in on Jeremy, Josh, & co.'s year-end film-screening festival this afternoon; they hijacked a viewing room at Tisch and watched all their favorite film projects from this year. I am pleased to say that Josh's films are quite good indeed and that I do not have to break up with him. ;-) The one I'm in turned out better than I thought it would, in fact, though he seems not entirely happy with it. Jeremy's final two projects were outstandingly good (and I was only in one of them, so it's OK for me to say that in an unbiased manner). In fact, all of the projects were quite good. Talented people rock. And they make me feel inadequate. The festival also marked the last time I'll see Jeremy until possibly the 16th, which depresses me, because in the last few days I saw a lot of him and it made me very, very happy indeed to have done so.
(2) The 14th floor of my dorm went out to dinner tonight at Osso Buco for a year-end celebration. Our R.A. paid for it. Himself. I don't understand how he possibly could do this thing. I had a fine time at dinner, but all I could think about was the chunk of Paradise Lost that I hadn't read yet (I'm plowing through it now, slowly) and, well, him. Who apparently I cannot see tonight because he's got a ten-page paper to do. I fucking hate school.
(3) The new Weezer album is pleasant as far as I can tell.
(4) A few minutes ago my keyboard randomly decided that it didn't want to make periods anymore. Every other character except the period worked. I freaked out and restarted and it seems to be OK, but it was definitely one of the scarier computer-related incidents of my life... just think about how essential the period is for URLs, coherent thoughts, the kind of ellipsis that's going to end this sentence...
(5) I really want to go see him.
(6) I'm so desperately poor.
(7) I really want to go see him.
(8) I'm going to stop before this gets even weirder and scarier.
7:59 PM | e-mail |
One more post before I fucking pass out -- I'll jump aboard the Coke meme with the following factoids:
1:00 AM | e-mail |
- I probably drink somewhere just below forty ounces a day.
- I try not to drink it before 11:00 AM but that's not a hard and fast rule; occasionally I'll drink it with breakfast.
- I always, always order it at restaurants. If they only have Pepsi I'll quietly take the pain.
- There's a stack of empty bottles next to my desk right now that I should take down to the recycling.
- I do consciously try to counter my Coke intake with equal or greater quantities of water.
- I used to get caffeine headaches when I didn't have one by 3 PM, but thankfully not anymore. My sister was completely addicted to Diet Coke and would get a migraine if she didn't drink one within an hour of waking up... that stuff's hardcore. I'm a Classic man all the way; Diet Coke tastes like ancient bedsore ass anyway.
1:00 AM | e-mail |
Right then, because I was bored and wanted to feel like something had changed on the site, there's a massive new links page -- Go: Links & Exits -- that I was originally saving for the redesign that's now posted. Many, many new faces and places are to be found there. Go make good use of it.
And for the record, I more than rocked 300 hits yesterday (still today from where I'm sitting, not asleep yet but dying to be). You people are The Fucking Bomb. Thank you for paying attention to my strange, desperate little world... it makes me glow inside and out, I'm telling you.
12:26 AM | e-mail |
And for the record, I more than rocked 300 hits yesterday (still today from where I'm sitting, not asleep yet but dying to be). You people are The Fucking Bomb. Thank you for paying attention to my strange, desperate little world... it makes me glow inside and out, I'm telling you.
12:26 AM | e-mail |
Monday, May 06, 2002
God?
(Cue up "Like A Prayer" choral hum)
I know I ask you for a lot of things. And I know you might be mad about that whole "lying down with man as thou dost with woman" thing or whatever. But if you could find it in your heart to let me crack 300 hits today, I'd really, really appreciate it.
(Yeah, I know, 300 hits a day is for pussies. Half of you probably do three times that before noon with one hand tied behind your back and a buttery, flaky croissant in your mouth. But that's a record for me damn it. My average hovers just under 250, but as of 11:15 PM ET I was less than a dozen away...)
(And for some reason I always get more hits on Mondays... you're all bored out of your minds at work, aren't you.)
10:31 PM | e-mail |
(Cue up "Like A Prayer" choral hum)
I know I ask you for a lot of things. And I know you might be mad about that whole "lying down with man as thou dost with woman" thing or whatever. But if you could find it in your heart to let me crack 300 hits today, I'd really, really appreciate it.
(Yeah, I know, 300 hits a day is for pussies. Half of you probably do three times that before noon with one hand tied behind your back and a buttery, flaky croissant in your mouth. But that's a record for me damn it. My average hovers just under 250, but as of 11:15 PM ET I was less than a dozen away...)
(And for some reason I always get more hits on Mondays... you're all bored out of your minds at work, aren't you.)
10:31 PM | e-mail |
Also on the subject of mix CDs: I just signed up for Discs Of Fury One: The Caffeine Collection, via Fiona. I figger it can only be fun, and it goes to help heal the damage I did to myself by missing out on the deadlines for all the other big mix-CD swaps that have been propagating in the weblog world lately...
7:18 PM | e-mail |
7:18 PM | e-mail |
I want to post about something that has absolutely no relation to the stress I'm under. So ba-da-bing: music time!
On a whim last week I whipped up a mix CD of the songs I've been obsessed with for one reason or another over the course of this spring. A bit of old, a bit of new, a bit of everything. I've been randomly sending copies off to whichever friends are interested -- if that's you, just let me know and I shall find a way to get it to you. (Even though I'm probably too poor to pay for postage. It will be done.) So here's the tracklisting, some MP3s, and some explanations. Yes, that tracklist is precision-sequenced for maximum effect/enjoyment. I'll be deleting each round of MP3s and posting new ones over the course of the next few days, so download quickly -- you've got until sometime Wednesday to grab this batch -- and keep your eyes fixed on this post (it's linked in the sidebar under "MP3s") for the new additions.
Oh yeah, actually, one more thing: Hello again to J. from Long Island, but ah, dude, your woman's worried about you. Stop checking this page so often. ;-)
3:14 PM | e-mail |
On a whim last week I whipped up a mix CD of the songs I've been obsessed with for one reason or another over the course of this spring. A bit of old, a bit of new, a bit of everything. I've been randomly sending copies off to whichever friends are interested -- if that's you, just let me know and I shall find a way to get it to you. (Even though I'm probably too poor to pay for postage. It will be done.) So here's the tracklisting, some MP3s, and some explanations. Yes, that tracklist is precision-sequenced for maximum effect/enjoyment. I'll be deleting each round of MP3s and posting new ones over the course of the next few days, so download quickly -- you've got until sometime Wednesday to grab this batch -- and keep your eyes fixed on this post (it's linked in the sidebar under "MP3s") for the new additions.
- Doves - "There Goes The Fear"
This is the lead single from the new Doves album, The Last Broadcast. I paid $10 to have this one-track single imported for me from England. it was only going to be in print for one day, you see. I don't regret it for a second. The rest of the album doesn't quite live up to the standard of this seven-minute minor epic, but how could it, really? Besides, the last Doves album was definitely a grower for me. I practically didn't even notice "The Cedar Room" was on it until a few months ago. So this one may yet have secrets to yield up. - Miss Kittin & The Hacker - "Frank Sinatra"
Motherfuckers are so nice. Suck my dick, kiss my ass. This thing's a masterpiece of camp/irony/whatever you want to call it. I call it rock and roll, baby. Electroclash 80s revival forever. ;-) - George Michael - "Father Figure"
- Garbage - "#1 Crush"
- Andrew W.K. - "I Get Wet"
- Elvis Costello - "45"
- Zero 7 - "Destiny"
- Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Our Time"
So everybody's talking about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in New York right now; apparently nobody got around to idolizing them sufficiently during last fall's nu-garage craze. People seem to be wetting themselves over them. I find the EP largely pleasant, but I find "Our Time" to be pretty damn spiff. Not much else going on there, though; I just like the song. - Jonatha Brooke & The Story - "Fatso"
- Ramones - "Spider-Man"
- Simon & Garfunkel - "Mother And Child Reunion"
- Janet Jackson - "If"
- No Doubt - "Hella Good"
- Golden Boy with Miss Kittin - "Rippin Kittin"
- New Order - "Here To Stay"
- Pulp - "Common People"
Pulp: the only thing Britpop ever did right. (Well OK, them and Blur's "Girls & Boys"). This song is a magnificent epic that all people must hear. If you don't get into it the first time, keep listening. You will. - Phantom Planet - "Anthem"
Oh yeah, actually, one more thing: Hello again to J. from Long Island, but ah, dude, your woman's worried about you. Stop checking this page so often. ;-)
3:14 PM | e-mail |
Remember this paper? I just got handed back a big fat A on it. Honestly, I don't understand how this keeps happening to me, but it does...
11:28 AM | e-mail |
11:28 AM | e-mail |
Sunday, May 05, 2002
I do feel better now, a bit, at least. I still have much to figure out and ask and all that good shit, but at least a couple of major questions have been poked at...
I do apologize for how sickeningly, stupidly, stubbornly uninformative this weblog has been. It was a really, really heavy weekend for me. This is simultaneously one of the best and worst times I've ever had in my life, and it shows no signs of becoming any less intense on either of those fronts in the near future... I'm not a very strong man. I wonder how long it'll take before I start to lose it big-time. I'm already devolving into moodiness and irrationality.
Bugger all, bet that makes you want to be near me right now, eh?
Anyway, just when I get what I want -- and y'know, let's be blunt about this, that'd be Josh -- it's removed from me for the next couple of days. Of course our schedules conflict delightfully. He's busiest when I've got the least to do, and my exams start the very day that he is finally liberated from academic responsibility. Even the one day where theoretically nothing should encumber us -- Friday, May 10th -- has been fucked up by the requirement that I go to a poetry reading for my Creative Writing class. I *would* be going to a reading on Tuesday night to get it over with, but my dorm floor is going out to dinner that night, and if I skip out on that, then I alienate all the friends I've worked so hard to keep this year.
SO IN OTHER WORDS THIS WEEK IS FUCKING HELL.
The exam on the 9th is going to be a fucking bitch -- it's for Major Texts In Critical Theory. We were given a sheet of ten ridiculously complex essay questions. We need to be prepared to answer nine of them, because he's going to put four on the test and we'll actually answer three. I've been ridiculously behind on the reading for this half of the course, and guess what, baby? It is all on there! So I'm probably going to have to spend most of Tuesday morning with my face in a book. (Can you imagine that I'm actually reading on the scheduled "reading day"?) Then at 4:00 I go off to see Jeremy & Josh and their friends' film projects from the past semester -- they're having a mini-festival -- and at 7:00 I go to the floor dinner. Then I think I have an exam on Wednesday morning, and then I study more that afternoon, and then, God willing, I see Josh that night. And then Thursday morning, the Crit Theory exam from hell.
And in the back of my mind is all the bullshit about moving out of the dorm and coming home and doing the whole "I'm gay" thing with my parents and establishing a routine for the summer and getting a job and getting in shape and missing him and finally, finally writing something that isn't this self-indulgent minor masterpiece of a navel-gazing diary.
There's no fucking way I'm going to be together enough to do all this. No fucking way whatsoever.
Pray for me, boys and girls...
10:25 PM | e-mail |
I do apologize for how sickeningly, stupidly, stubbornly uninformative this weblog has been. It was a really, really heavy weekend for me. This is simultaneously one of the best and worst times I've ever had in my life, and it shows no signs of becoming any less intense on either of those fronts in the near future... I'm not a very strong man. I wonder how long it'll take before I start to lose it big-time. I'm already devolving into moodiness and irrationality.
Bugger all, bet that makes you want to be near me right now, eh?
Anyway, just when I get what I want -- and y'know, let's be blunt about this, that'd be Josh -- it's removed from me for the next couple of days. Of course our schedules conflict delightfully. He's busiest when I've got the least to do, and my exams start the very day that he is finally liberated from academic responsibility. Even the one day where theoretically nothing should encumber us -- Friday, May 10th -- has been fucked up by the requirement that I go to a poetry reading for my Creative Writing class. I *would* be going to a reading on Tuesday night to get it over with, but my dorm floor is going out to dinner that night, and if I skip out on that, then I alienate all the friends I've worked so hard to keep this year.
SO IN OTHER WORDS THIS WEEK IS FUCKING HELL.
The exam on the 9th is going to be a fucking bitch -- it's for Major Texts In Critical Theory. We were given a sheet of ten ridiculously complex essay questions. We need to be prepared to answer nine of them, because he's going to put four on the test and we'll actually answer three. I've been ridiculously behind on the reading for this half of the course, and guess what, baby? It is all on there! So I'm probably going to have to spend most of Tuesday morning with my face in a book. (Can you imagine that I'm actually reading on the scheduled "reading day"?) Then at 4:00 I go off to see Jeremy & Josh and their friends' film projects from the past semester -- they're having a mini-festival -- and at 7:00 I go to the floor dinner. Then I think I have an exam on Wednesday morning, and then I study more that afternoon, and then, God willing, I see Josh that night. And then Thursday morning, the Crit Theory exam from hell.
And in the back of my mind is all the bullshit about moving out of the dorm and coming home and doing the whole "I'm gay" thing with my parents and establishing a routine for the summer and getting a job and getting in shape and missing him and finally, finally writing something that isn't this self-indulgent minor masterpiece of a navel-gazing diary.
There's no fucking way I'm going to be together enough to do all this. No fucking way whatsoever.
Pray for me, boys and girls...
10:25 PM | e-mail |
Taking a little bit more time off from all the heavy shit swirling around in my head to note that I am 40% gay. You may act straight mate, but I bet your mother always knew you'd grow up to be a gay guy!
(via Mihow)
8:07 PM | e-mail |
(via Mihow)
8:07 PM | e-mail |
Tom Waits video shoot disrupted by hungry coyotes. Nothing more to say about that, really. Three emus intended for the video were devoured by coyotes before filming. Only with Waits, y'know? This never happens to Third Eye Blind...
7:48 PM | e-mail |
7:48 PM | e-mail |
Why is Blogger stubbornly refusing to publish the most recently-written post to the page? I do not understand.
You know, it was a lovely day today, but I feel like I'm right back where I started... I'm tired of being so fucking general but it's unfair to talk about things here until they've been talked about with the people involved. At least there was one extremely high point to the day... he isn't reading right now, because his computer is packed away, but thank you, Jeremy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The new Doves album is definitely good. Waiting for it to hijack my brain the way the first one did...
Blah. I have like eighty poems to read and critique tonight if I want to catch up on my workshopping for Creative Writing... my grade doesn't depend on it but I'd be a complete asshole if I didn't do it. And then, there's laundry. And apparently, a floor meeting. And some sorting out of Things with a capital T. God, fuck all, I'm too tired for this...
7:25 PM | e-mail |
You know, it was a lovely day today, but I feel like I'm right back where I started... I'm tired of being so fucking general but it's unfair to talk about things here until they've been talked about with the people involved. At least there was one extremely high point to the day... he isn't reading right now, because his computer is packed away, but thank you, Jeremy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The new Doves album is definitely good. Waiting for it to hijack my brain the way the first one did...
Blah. I have like eighty poems to read and critique tonight if I want to catch up on my workshopping for Creative Writing... my grade doesn't depend on it but I'd be a complete asshole if I didn't do it. And then, there's laundry. And apparently, a floor meeting. And some sorting out of Things with a capital T. God, fuck all, I'm too tired for this...
7:25 PM | e-mail |
My God, yesterday was a big day.
I moved heavy electronics, rode around New York with the top down, played with dogs, roamed Central Park. I came out to my sister. Her response? "We weren't sure... OK. Great." My family, therefore, is totally prepared for this eventuality. I can relax. Everything is different.
Then, I was guilt-tripped. I screamed at a friend like an ass, when all I really wanted was to mend broken fences. We made up. She let me copy the new Doves album. Lo, it was good.
Oh, and then: I saw him. I rode trains. I watched people dance and danced myself, like a complete fool. We touched. I had the conversation I've wanted for a long time. And then, I slept.
And now, I'm listening to music and gazing out the window at a fucking gorgeous New York City spring afternoon, and I am preparing for a picnic.
I think it's gonna be OK.
End Goth-poetry transmission. ;-)
12:18 PM | e-mail |
I moved heavy electronics, rode around New York with the top down, played with dogs, roamed Central Park. I came out to my sister. Her response? "We weren't sure... OK. Great." My family, therefore, is totally prepared for this eventuality. I can relax. Everything is different.
Then, I was guilt-tripped. I screamed at a friend like an ass, when all I really wanted was to mend broken fences. We made up. She let me copy the new Doves album. Lo, it was good.
Oh, and then: I saw him. I rode trains. I watched people dance and danced myself, like a complete fool. We touched. I had the conversation I've wanted for a long time. And then, I slept.
And now, I'm listening to music and gazing out the window at a fucking gorgeous New York City spring afternoon, and I am preparing for a picnic.
I think it's gonna be OK.
End Goth-poetry transmission. ;-)
12:18 PM | e-mail |
Saturday, May 04, 2002
I am frustrated by so many things right now, I can't even sort my head out enough to talk about them clearly. Tomorrow is going to be one big ball of stress. Maybe I'll be able to talk about it after the fact; maybe I won't...
Spider-Man was... hard to describe. And I don't necessarily mean that in a good or bad way. But I'm way too keyed up right now to talk about it.
So basically, this is the worst weblog post ever.
1:02 AM | e-mail |
Spider-Man was... hard to describe. And I don't necessarily mean that in a good or bad way. But I'm way too keyed up right now to talk about it.
So basically, this is the worst weblog post ever.
1:02 AM | e-mail |
Friday, May 03, 2002
Michele sounds off on last night's fracas:
By the by, for other descriptions of the Nick Cave madness, check bgirl.net's delightfully apt description, or Mihow's (hurry, no permalinks). God bless referral logs.
4:57 PM | e-mail |
As we sat down we saw someone who appeared at first glance to be a skinhead walking past the restaurant and upon further inspection realized it was just Chris dressed like a "butch lesbian" in his words.Who wants to have me over for dinner now, eh? Eh? ;-D
It was interesting to sit across the table from Michael and Chris, who are polar opposites of each other. Michael is quiet, demure and soft spoken. Chris is, well....Chris is manic. I don't think he stopped moving the entire time we were there. But he is funny and entertaining. A one man show, really. I would pay to see him.
By the by, for other descriptions of the Nick Cave madness, check bgirl.net's delightfully apt description, or Mihow's (hurry, no permalinks). God bless referral logs.
4:57 PM | e-mail |
I've been reading the reviews of Spider-Man (seeing it @ 9:45 tonight in Times Square). They're largely quite positive. And yet I'm becoming more and more convinced that it's not, actually, a good movie. An enjoyable one, maybe, but good...? No.
We'll see soon, anyway. If I reverse myself then do please feel free to adminster some virtual slappage upon me.
10:42 AM | e-mail |
We'll see soon, anyway. If I reverse myself then do please feel free to adminster some virtual slappage upon me.
10:42 AM | e-mail |
As usual, I arrived at dinner late and bewildered. The 1 train was, characteristically, torturously slow, so I didn't end up getting off at 72nd Street until 6:25 for a 6:15 meeting at 76th Street. Woo-ha. Then, once I reached the restaurant, I managed to come in, walk right by Michele, Justin, and MG, and then stumble back out onto the street confusedly before Michele, blissfully, came out and located me.
Over a meal of various vegetable products (I had the "zen ravioli," which came in a bizarre peanut-butter-esque sauce -- it actually wasn't half bad, but since I'm subconsciously allergic to eating anything which does not contain meat, I only ate about half of it), pleasant chatter was had. I get the feeling I scared the shit out of everyone by ranting about Kylie Minogue -- it was inescapable, really -- but nobody died or even suffered a minor flesh injury, which I think is pretty remarkable for the first contact between two bloggers.
I also feel it appropriate to mention that I spent the whole day dressed like a butch lesbian. I remained, however, strangely fuckable.
So then, dinner consumed, we parted ways with MG (who I barely spoke to -- my fag-powers probably intimidated him. God knows I'd shirk away from me in horror, so if you're reading, very sorry, man ;-D), I met up with Len, and it was off to the Beacon Theatre to rock with Mr. Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. Who put on a truly magnificent show. The setlist was far shorter than I would have preferred, but every single song was remarkably rendered.
I'd like to say a lot more, but holy fucking shit I'm tired. Now I must apologize to Michele for short-changing her -- she made me promise I'd blog about the show so she would have something to link to tomorrow morning, and I'm shafting her with this half-assed write-up... that's what you get for trusting a shiftless college student. (Who wouldn't be half this tired if he hadn't gone to meet his boy right after the show. Hey, you).
Anyway: I'd've loved to have heard "The Ship Song," or a couple of other random Cave tunes I've been obsessing over recently -- "From Her To Eternity," "The Witness Song," "Loverman," etc. -- but a show encompassing every song I want to hear would run for several hours and the man would drop dead in the middle of it. (Can we talk about his stage presence, by the way? He stumbles and staggers like an epileptic, doggedly avoiding the rhythm of the song until perfectly-timed moments where his spine snaps to the right and he strikes this fantastic dead-Elvis rigor-mortis pose... it shouldn't work. At all. But oh my God does it ever.) My personal picks for "fucking amazing performances" are in bold; I'm curious to see Michele's take...
Main Set:
One last thing: Len made me promise to tell you all that he had an epiphany tonight. He says he saw the future. What precisely this means, I leave squarely to him to explain, if he so desires.
And now, I sleep.
12:00 AM | e-mail |
Over a meal of various vegetable products (I had the "zen ravioli," which came in a bizarre peanut-butter-esque sauce -- it actually wasn't half bad, but since I'm subconsciously allergic to eating anything which does not contain meat, I only ate about half of it), pleasant chatter was had. I get the feeling I scared the shit out of everyone by ranting about Kylie Minogue -- it was inescapable, really -- but nobody died or even suffered a minor flesh injury, which I think is pretty remarkable for the first contact between two bloggers.
I also feel it appropriate to mention that I spent the whole day dressed like a butch lesbian. I remained, however, strangely fuckable.
So then, dinner consumed, we parted ways with MG (who I barely spoke to -- my fag-powers probably intimidated him. God knows I'd shirk away from me in horror, so if you're reading, very sorry, man ;-D), I met up with Len, and it was off to the Beacon Theatre to rock with Mr. Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds. Who put on a truly magnificent show. The setlist was far shorter than I would have preferred, but every single song was remarkably rendered.
I'd like to say a lot more, but holy fucking shit I'm tired. Now I must apologize to Michele for short-changing her -- she made me promise I'd blog about the show so she would have something to link to tomorrow morning, and I'm shafting her with this half-assed write-up... that's what you get for trusting a shiftless college student. (Who wouldn't be half this tired if he hadn't gone to meet his boy right after the show. Hey, you).
Anyway: I'd've loved to have heard "The Ship Song," or a couple of other random Cave tunes I've been obsessing over recently -- "From Her To Eternity," "The Witness Song," "Loverman," etc. -- but a show encompassing every song I want to hear would run for several hours and the man would drop dead in the middle of it. (Can we talk about his stage presence, by the way? He stumbles and staggers like an epileptic, doggedly avoiding the rhythm of the song until perfectly-timed moments where his spine snaps to the right and he strikes this fantastic dead-Elvis rigor-mortis pose... it shouldn't work. At all. But oh my God does it ever.) My personal picks for "fucking amazing performances" are in bold; I'm curious to see Michele's take...
Main Set:
- "As I Sat Sadly By Her Side"
- "Do You Love Me?"
- "Oh My Lord"
- "Lime-Tree Arbour"
- "Red Right Hand"
- "Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow"
- "God Is In The House"
- "We Came Along This Road"
- "The Weeping Song"
- "Papa Won't Leave You Henry"
- "Hallelujah"
- "The Mercy Seat"
- "Love Letter"
- "Into My Arms"
- "St. Huck"
- "Henry Lee"
- "Stagger Lee"
One last thing: Len made me promise to tell you all that he had an epiphany tonight. He says he saw the future. What precisely this means, I leave squarely to him to explain, if he so desires.
And now, I sleep.
12:00 AM | e-mail |
Thursday, May 02, 2002
Wednesday, May 01, 2002
Tomorrow, I go to two classes for the last time, and I see both Michele and Nick Cave. The jury's still out as to which personality will prove more interesting...
(If I had Photoshop, here's where you'd insert the graphic of the two of them boxing.)
In other news: tonight I saw Insomnia, which was largely just OK, and bought tickets for Spider-Man, which had better be cooler than that. And now I shall sleep.
11:37 PM | e-mail |
(If I had Photoshop, here's where you'd insert the graphic of the two of them boxing.)
In other news: tonight I saw Insomnia, which was largely just OK, and bought tickets for Spider-Man, which had better be cooler than that. And now I shall sleep.
11:37 PM | e-mail |
Oops. Not much time left to prepare, but this Friday is No Pants Day:
Oh yes: and I've been pleasantly surprised. ;-)
2:58 PM | e-mail |
No Pants Day is a day where everyone, be they students, respectable businessmen, or cherished community leaders, leave their pants behind. Usually this means wearing thick, appropriately modest boxer shorts, but bloomers, slips, briefs, and boxer-briefs all work as well. Things like skirts, shorts, and dresses don't count, because people are encouraged to revel in the absence of pants, and not replace pants with other clothing. The point is to relax and enjoy the humor inherent in people not wearing pants.(via So Much Modern Time)
Oh yes: and I've been pleasantly surprised. ;-)
2:58 PM | e-mail |
So last night I told Josh where this site is. He probably forgot about it shortly thereafter. I'd mentioned several times that I had a website, and last night he saw it over Jeremy's shoulder. But I'm willing to bet he probably didn't bother to come check it out. I'm not offended. Of course, I suppose now I have to show some restraint... not that I regret anything I've written here. I think I've been tasteful, right?
If you are reading, Josh, then I'm pleasantly surprised. And hello there. See you tonight.
11:14 AM | e-mail |
If you are reading, Josh, then I'm pleasantly surprised. And hello there. See you tonight.
11:14 AM | e-mail |
Spectacular article about Steve Ditko, the co-creator of Spider-Man. He's been more or less a recluse for decades now...
10:34 AM | e-mail |
Ditko's ink prints are especially visible in the film. "You can see a lot of Ditko's influence in the way Spidey moves on the big screen--the classic poses and movements are all up there," says "Spider-Man" producer Laura Ziskin.(via Linkmachinego)
The film credit reads, "Based on the Marvel Comic Book by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko." That may not seem very significant, but to Ditko fans it represents a long-awaited validation. In one of those injustices for which the comics industry is famous, Ditko has not received any royalties from the billion-dollar franchise based on Spider-Man because he co-created the character on a work-for-hire basis.
More important to his fans, there has long been a public misconception that Stan Lee was the sole creator of Spider-Man--fostered by a combination of Lee's grandstanding, Ditko's reclusiveness and Marvel's practice of not giving credit to the original creators of its heroes. In the March issue of the long-running "Amazing Spider-Man," Marvel listed Ditko's name on the title page for the first time since 1966. Series editor Axel Alonso says the credit was a "tip of the hat to Ditko" that may appear again around the time of the movie, but not as a matter of company policy.
10:34 AM | e-mail |