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<<<31 december 2001 11:30am>>> So Far, The 21st Century Has Been A Real Drag current music::: Alanis Morissette, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie; Radiohead, Amnesty International Concert 1998 i have a sort of depressing theory that the human race stopped evolving somewhere around the time that Kurt Cobain died. from that point on, as if wired to some great cosmic PID controller, it made a direct about face and began to actively devolve. not that Kurt Cobain himself, may he rest in peace, had anything to do with it; i just use that as a general milestone to indicate where everything started to go downhill. or maybe it was just when i started to notice things more-- because i wasn't stuck in my room all day, listening to Nirvana records. remember all those Isaac Asimov stories we read, imagining an idyllic post-modern life in which children were sent away to boarding school on distant planets where the sun was only seen one day a year? remember when the teacher asked your third grade class, "What will life be like in 2000?" oh wow, we'll all be flying to work with jet-packs! of course, on some underlying level, we all knew these conclusions were pretty stupid. but i had such hopes for the 21st century. even five years ago, i fantasized about Zen-like, minimalist, post-millenium life, in which it might be possible to exist purely in digital terms, if that was what you wanted. we would have our act together by then, i believed. higher consciousness and rational thought would prevail. human beings would no longer wallow in societal norms and comfort zones that had previously sustained them, such as racism, sexism, and other institutionalized standards. there would be absolutely no time or space for these things. perhaps what i was really fantasizing about was a world without emotion, and indirectly, a world without confusion and pain. if i recall that period of my life, it was indeed heavily peppered with plenty of the two latter qualities. and my only refuge seemed to be my detachment, and my dependence on proven science: engineering manuals, physics textbooks, and Bjork records. ah well, here we are-- with all the technology to clone a human being, for Christ's sake, and we can't even agree on whether or not it is moral. that might be amusing, if it wasn't so damn scary. <<<30 december 2001 1:17am>>>
<<<11:26pm>>> i'm certainly not an animal rights partisan in the same vein as PETA. i wear plenty of leather and fur, enjoy bullfights and horse racing, and would probably have steak six times a week if offered. i am, however, an anti-cruelty advocate. this page contains a comprehensive list of examples of animal cruelty and their direct correlation to violence against humans. this is some pretty scary shit here, peeps. <<<9:32pm>>> Currently Reading my humble impressions of two books i got for Christmas: The Other Ariel deals largely with Ted Hughes' publication and editing (read: butchery) of Sylvia Plath's posthumous bestseller, Ariel. my opinion of Ted Hughes is freely given, well known, and will not be repeated here; however, the fact remains that the Ariel we know today is not the version that Sylvia Plath originally intended. Hughes eliminated a large section of poems from Sylvia's manuscript, mainly ones that he felt "attacked" him, or discussed too deeply the state of their marriage and his infidelities. The Travel Detective: i've been studying the travel industry for years, but i give it up to Peter Greenberg, a travel editor for National Geographic and the Today show. his willingness to land himself as the sworn enemy of every airline executive and travel agent in the nation is highly impressive, if not slightly amusing. i'm surprised The Travel Detective got such abysmal reviews on Amazon. they probably all work for United Airlines or something. <<<29 december 2001 8:23pm>>> The Stars Are Conspiring Against Me!! No-ooo!! check out the 2002 forecast for Scorpio. this is not my year to find lurve, for the stars are actually "conspiring" against it. i shit you not. i feel so thwarted. "Of course, if it is flings you are after, this could be a bountiful year." good. flings are what i do best. :) <<<28 december 2001 8:56pm>>> went to see The Lord of the Rings again today. it was a really spontaneous thing, like, the conversation went as follows: "I'm bored." "Me too." "Wanna go see LOTR again?" "Yeah, let's go." afterwards we took a walk through town; it was lovely. BF keeps trying to convince me that Elijah Wood looks just like this annoying kid we know called Zane. uh, no. wrong. first off, Elijah Wood looks good. secondly, he has these great big gorgeous blue eyes. Zane has these little beady brown eyes and he looks like a weasel. oh, and i liked the cinema we went to this time. didn't have the greatest sound, but it had much more leg room. ahhh. <<<26 december 2001 12:02pm>>> The "Peter Jackson to Write and Direct Star Wars Episode III" Petition. sign it, but only if you can say something mature. <<<10:20pm>>> <<<9:27pm>>> Simon has a sick new layout. check it, fool. <<<8:29pm>>> 
Troy Paiva Manzanar Internment Camp, California
Lost America-- night photography of The Abandoned Roadside West. <<<7:22pm>>> Roadside, Weirdside Weird N.J. is an online travel magazine devoted to all the inexplicable, mysterious, wacky, or just plain creepy things that go on within the small strip of coastal delight we know as New Jersey. two guys named Mark travel the Garden State, collecting local oddities and folklore and inviting native New Jerseyans to submit their own comments and experiences. i had already heard about Shades Of Death Rd. and the Matawan Man Eater from my dad, but even those start to pale in comparison to tales of midget communities in the woods, a fenced burial plot smack in the middle of a cinema parking lot, and the Blair Witch-esque Shirtwood Forest. as if we needed even more reasons to stay the hell out of New Jersey... <<<25 december 2001 12:32pm>>> Christmas Is Cancelled. Go Back To Bed. huh? what? Christmas Day? i have presents to open? time to get out of bed?? oh god. *buries head under pillow* but the floor is freezing, and my feet will get cold. why can't we just stay under the covers, where it's nice and warm? i've had a good time up until now; can't we just make it an all day fuck-fest? okay, okay, i'm up. somebody get me a coke, immediately. <<<24 december 2001 1:07am>>> macaroni and cheese, a frustrated MIT student, bondage and valium: The Demise Of Brad. <<<23 december 2001 10:24pm>>> brilliant: One Ring To Rule the Dome. <<<21 december 2001 12:17am>>> i just watched a show on one of the Discovery channels about cosmetic surgery mishaps. of course the word 'mishaps' in this case is a horrible understatement. it seemed to focus largely on liposuction and how dangerous it really is. apparently, the risk of absorbing too much fluid or having too much fat removed at once is greater than anyone wants to admit. and if the surgeon doesn't know what they're doing, they can accidentally skewer one of your organs with the little tube. they spoke to one woman who was left with a horrible infection after liposuction. she noticed what she thought was terrible bruising, which her doctor told her was normal. it turned out to be gangrene. then she described how she got into the bathtub one day, and the flesh of her legs began to slide off in chunks. i honestly don't know how she survived, because if that had been me, i would have fainted on the spot, cracked my head on the edge of the tub and died. there's no fucking way i would ever have any sort of cosmetic surgery. shit, i don't even like to go to the dentist. there are rare cases where cosmetic surgery is a good thing, but for the most part, i believe it to be anti-human. there's no way i would ever submit to being sliced, diced, flayed or peeled under some scalpel-happy bastard's hand, at least not while i'm alive. after i'm dead, all's fair. i mean, look at it this way: even if that facelift is succesful, do you really want to live with the fact that they peeled the flesh from your skull and stapled it taut again? oy vey. listen, if you're really concerned about preserving your face past the age of, oh, 23, try laying off the booze, get up off your ass once in a while-- and never, ever smoke. it's my not-so-humble opinion that smoking is the number one worst thing you can possibly do for your face, if not your lungs. now, people who know me would read this and call me a hypocrite, because for years, i was seriously considering a breast reduction. (sure, a pair of 36D's look just great on Pam Anderson, but not someone who's barely 5'4.) allow me to say that actually watching a breast reduction procedure was enough to cure me of that. sorry, but they'll stay where they are for now, thank you very much. not even the promise of prescription Demerol could tempt me down that road again. <<<7:39pm>>> They're Not Just For Christmas, They're For Life would somebody please, please buy me a hobbit baby for Christmas? they are *so* cute. <<<20 december 2001 6:42pm>>> what can i say about The Fellowship Of The Ring? it was pretty fuckin' sweet! even if you're no fantasy devotee (i'm certainly not), i say at least walk, walk, walk to the theatre and check out what $270 million can buy you nowadays. <<<5:12pm>>> Nothing Against The Hardcore Tolkien Crowd, But... most people i know are re-reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy before they see the film, either as a refresher, or because they never heard of it before it became associated with the words "major motion picture". i decided not to take that route. it's been years since i read the trilogy, and i only read The Hobbit once, in ninth grade, but i remember enough to be familiar with the basics, and that's good enough for right now. it's partly because i've never been a big fantasy fan, but beyond that, i'm not out to see this film so that i can just sit there and compare it to the books, or point out everything they might have left out, or distract myself with questions like "Is that Quenya or Elvish that they're speaking? 'Coz if it's Elvish, that's very bad pronunciation." (seriously, i know people who would do this.) indeed, Tolkien created a rich, multi-layered universe based on his extensive knowledge of history and languages. the languages he created for Middle Earth, based on actual dialects, are agreed to be virtually flawless by most scholars. but, i'm not one of those scholars. the more i read about Tolkien and his work, the more fascinating it becomes to me, but that has little or no bearing on whether or not i enjoy the film. my feeling is that any good filmmaker should be able to interpret a work of fiction, even one as complex as this one, in a way that would be comprehensible even to someone who never picked up the book. granted, it's a tricky science, requiring a lot of hard work and attention to detail. therefore, i just want to go into it without any expectations. i want to enjoy the experience, sit back, become absorbed, and see where it takes me. <<<4:09pm>>> The Blair Witch Project-- What Would You Do? this is what i would do, if i was lost in the woods and faced with an unknowable, invisible, may-or-may-not-be supernatural assailant such as the Blair Witch: during the day, i would cover as much ground as i could, but i would ditch the compass-and-map business, and follow the river. my primal instinct tells me that water always leads to civilization. plus there would always be water nearby to drink, which would keep me alive at least for a while, even if i ran out of food. then, at night, i would kick it Braveheart style. i would dig a trench around the camp, set it on fire, strip off most of my clothes, adorn myself with makeshift warpaint, and sit within my fortified moat whittling spears and other weapons out of branches and rocks, waiting for the Blair Witch to come along. bring it! it may well turn out that i am fucked, but my last breath won't be wasted crying into a camera. i can't believe Heather & The Gang didn't think of any of this. God, people are such pussies. <<<12:25pm>>> BF really cracked me up this morning. he came in and said, "hey, i just said hi to the neighbors out there." (the ones upstairs that keep their music and t.v. fucking LOUD.) "i said--" and then he did sign language. i almost choked on my Frosted Mini-Wheats. i needed a good laugh. he's right, though... i think whenever i see them from now on, i'm going to do just that-- speak in sign language. and maybe they'll get the message. and even if they don't, it'll still be a good time messing with them. i'm in a silly mood. and why not? it's Frodo Day, and there's a documentary about Marlene Dietrich about to come on. ciao for now. <<<2:53am>>> bought our tickets for The Fellowship Of The Ring online just now. i got them for the 10:15pm showing, thinking that maybe it won't be as crowded. yay!! <<<19 december 2001 1:22am>>> Music... And Some Seasonal Affectation Disorder ever heard of Electric Skychurch? they were profiled in a film i saw this morning, Better Living Through Circuitry. i went to their site and downloaded some of their MP3's. way, way too trancey for me-- kind of like Rabbit In The Moon on valium-- but someone else might like it. lately i've been downloading a lot of stuff by this group called Invisibl Skratch Piklz. they're not really new, but founded by one of my favorite DJs, DJ Q-Bert, and they totally rock. if you like old-school breakbeats, you'll dig it. it seems like for the past couple of weeks i haven't wanted to do anything else but spend every waking moment in the bathtub. i get in the tub and read for an hour or so, or until andy wants to use the bathroom, although i'd probably stay in there even longer if i could. it feels like i'd rather hang out in the tub than watch t.v. or a film lately, or go for a walk, or go *anywhere*. to be perfectly honest, i haven't felt much like myself in the past two weeks. i think i probably have that seasonal depression thing, and just won't admit it. i also have a bitchin' case of insomnia at the moment. i've been doing terrible things to my body this week-- not eating for days, consuming massive amounts of caffeine, sleeping six hours for every forty-eight-- and that has to stop. i really, really really want to get some sleep tonight, so, as much as i hate to, i'm going to take a couple of Tylenol PMs and see what happens. meanwhile, i'm going to go watch The Blair Witch Project. <<<17 december 2001 12:23am>>> i recently discovered, through reports from my many "eyes and ears", that one of my more memorable ex-boyfriends had a blog/journal for about three months. it's a well known fact that every single one of my exes is still, to this day, in love with me, so i spent the greater part of an afternoon scanning his entries to see what he might have written about me. he did post some things about our relationship. as much as i hate to admit it, some of it was truly insightful, and made me think, "well jesus, dude, why didn't you tell me this stuff when we were together?" but most of it was just blah, blah, blah, moan moan moan, wail wail wail, and he needs to get over it. however, i found the piece de resistance to be his description of our relationship as "the work of Satan". Ouch! Cold! feh. i chalk it up to simple chemistry. an open-and-shut case of two egos that clashed, bigtime. towards the end, we couldn't even be in the same room together without clawing each other's eyes out and it was a good thing that we parted. i don't dwell on it, hardly think about it, and have almost nothing to say about it. i certainly can't imagine taking up useful broadband moaning about it. at least i can look back and laugh about the time he tried to strangle me to death. ah, love is wasted on the young. <<<11:10pm>>> are you one of those gutless cro-magnons who would have your cat declawed? if so, perhaps you would be interested in a veterinary assistant's description of a routine declawing procedure.
elsewhere on the site you will also find a list of countries where declawing is outlawed. i'm ashamed (but hardly suprised) to see that the US is practically the only civilized nation in the world that hasn't made this illegal. <<<16 december 2001 9:44pm>>> "Crack Whore Serenaded By Mercy Moths" fuck the Turner Prize! elitist pigs with their lights turning on and off, while the real artists are rotting! <<<14 december 2001 2:39pm>>> current music::: Jewel, This Way What The Fuck Is Wrong With Men?? my boyfriend has this heinous habit... of trimming his nails *wherever* he happens to be at the time-- usually, our living room. what makes it worse, if it could get any worse, is that he doesn't even use clippers-- he just sort of sits and absentmindedly picks or peels the nails that are too long, and... and this is so gross, i'm having trouble just writing it... deposits them into this little pile of trimmed fingenails on the edge of the couch or the coffee table. and before you ask, he does this with his toenails, too. oh. my. god. i think i'm pretty liberal when it comes to the gross factor around here. a simple "excuse me" can suffice in the event of a fart or burp. showering is not my first priority on my days off. vomiting is pretty common in this household. and i don't think i have to explain any further when i mention that curry is a staple of our diet. but it stops at fingernails. there are namely two things that will cause me to demonstrate the "tarantula/demon" scream (so named as a scream reserved chiefly for the sighting of a loose tarantula, or demonic possession)-- trimming fingernails in public, and spitting on a public sidewalk. what the fuck is with the spitting on the sidewalk every five feet? is the mass expulsion of phlegm some sort of testosterone-level indicator? i have to walk there, for Christ's sake! sometimes i see a guy and a girl walking together, and the guy will spit, and she doesn't say anything! what the fuck! i mean, does she honestly find this attractive?!? the *ONE* time that my boyfriend spit on the sidewalk, i was so completely offended that he would do that in my presence that there almost wasn't a fourth date. so i caught him once again this morning, doing... that fingernail thing. fortunately, he had only gotten as far as one thumbnail, and as soon as i sucked in my breath to scream, he quickly said, "it's just that one; i was going to throw it away..." "that's not the point!" i cried. "the only place for that, ever, is in the bathroom, over the trash can, with a proper pair of clippers! how the hell is that so hard to understand? jesus, it just makes my skin crawl!" aaarrgghhh!! <<<8:40pm>>> interested in what Madonna said at the chat Wednesday? of course you are. she brought up an interesting point on the difference between American and British paid holidays. (note: we don't get shit here. <<<10:50pm>>> i just realized that i spelled "receive" wrong in the last post. oh well, screw it. <<<10:47pm>>> <<<5:29pm>>> Chat With Madonna! recieved this e-mail from ICON (Madonna fan club). if you were a member of ICON, you would have gotten this e-mail too, and you would feel special and cool right now. and then later this month you would recieve in the mail, in a big manila envelope, a newsletter personally written and signed by Madonna, photocopied onto a nice 8x10 sheet of (probably expensive) paper embossed with the ICON letterhead, telling you all about her various projects coming up and what she's been doing with her spare time-- when she gets spare time, mind you; she's Madonna, fool!-- and how tired she gets chasing after a nanny all day and telling her how to raise the kids, and what she had for breakfast, and how great her life is right now, and most importantly-- how much she loves YOU. but i digress.
Translated simultaneously into multiple languages, fans can log on to catch pop queen Madonna answering questions from fans all over the world in real time on Wednesday 12th December, 2001 12 PM noon Eastern Time, at http://chat.msn.com/features/madonna.asp.
Along with this great opportunity to chat with Madonna, Microsoft's Windowsmedia.com has a special promotion available that allows fans to download one exclusive GHV2 Madonna video direct onto their wireless device through http://windowsmedia.com/mobile.
The chat will be available free to anyone with access to the Internet and will take place on Wednesday 12th December, 2001 at 12 PM noon Eastern Time, at http://chat.msn.com/features/madonna.asp. Fans can join the chat live or send in their questions in advance by email by visiting the site http://chat.msn.com/features/madonna.asp where there are full instructions on how to take part.
of course, i won't be home tomorrow :( <<<11 december 2001 5:00pm>>> current music::: Jewel, This Way; Semisonic, Feeling Strangely Fine Uh, I Probably Would OMG, i want this. find more gift ideas for your freak friends like me at Who Would Buy That?. <<<10 december 2001 2:23am>>> current music::: Jefferson Airplane, The Worst Of Jefferson Airplane; Coldplay, Parachutes did you know that Target has a wishlist service? i thought that was pretty cool, and i was going to go over there and create a wishlist and put things like Lever 2000, tampons, toothpaste and pens on it, and see if anyone would actually buy them for me. after all, those are the sort of things i buy when i go to Target, and it'd be nice to not have to shell out for them myself, for a change. it seems those sort of things aren't available online. so i went to the kitchen section, and browsed through their tacky flatware collections-- bleh. i can't think of anything else i want at Target, although this waffle iron looks pretty sweet. <<<9 december 2001 10:23pm>>> i was planning to post tonight, but i'm going to take a bath first. i've been feeling a bit stressed and anxious today, so i think i'll have a long soak, listen to some music, and pop back around in a little while. <<<11:47pm>>> well, it looks as if the Christmas lights on my bedroom ceiling are going to have to come down for a while-- so we can use them to decorate the balcony. <<<7 december 2001 11:27pm>>> i think i want to see Ocean's Eleven sometime this weekend. AFAIK, it's a remake of a film that Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack did in the sixties, but beyond that, it just looks like the sort of wacky all-star romp that i typically enjoy. plus, George Clooney is nice to look at. <<<9:44pm>>> Meeting The Tweakers every day, i seem to assimilate myself further into my new surroundings. today, i had the unprecedented joy and amusement of being introduced to the local tweakers (crystal meth heads). i stopped to see a friend of mine who works in a coffee shop. as i waited for him to finish taking somebody's order, two young guys walked in. what drew everyone's attention to them was the fact that they looked like they had robbed some old lady's closet. one was wearing a stetson hat, some sort of costume-pearl choker thing, and a cheap, floor-length fake mink coat with big buttons. his buddy was dressed in a bright orange knit cap, a gray rabbit fur coat, and (and this was the weirdest thing) what appeared to be the hood ornament ripped right off a Mercedes-Benz, strung on some sort of chain and worn like a medallion around his neck. they walked up to the counter, and my friend said, "can i help you?" "i'm looking for one of those things that you sell..." began Mr. Mink, making a sort of descriptive flurry with his hands. "and i'd like to file a complaint on behalf of Megan Bayer." he snatched a pen from the jar beside the cash register and tapped it frenetically on his hand. Mr. Rabbit just looked frightened. "who's Megan Bayer?" asked my friend. i was cracking up, so i wasn't able to fully hear Mr. Mink's reply. the manager was summoned. the tweakers turned to face me and i said, "come here and let me see your buttons. they're so pretty." Mr Mink approached me and i admired the shiny buttons of his coat. "oh those are beautiful," i said. "where did you get your coat?" suddenly there was a loud POP! sound. Mr. Mink was ripping the buttons off the coat. "if you like them you should have them," he said, handing them to me one after the other. "no no, keep your buttons," i replied. "take them all. they're pissing me off!" as he tugged on the last button, the fabric ripped, and he handed it to me with a large chunk of fake mink attached to it. "um, thanks," i said. "this is also for you," he handed me a small folded piece of paper. i unfolded it and the note inside read, "She is on the math team, and that is WRONG." "look," Mr. Rabbit suddenly said, opening his coat to reveal his dirty t-shirt. "'Lobster Republic'!" he giggled. his t-shirt did indeed read, 'Maine: Lobster Republic'. "look at mine!" Mr. Mink demanded, and revealed a long-sleeved t-shirt with a grizzly bear on it. "wow," i said. "who do you think looks better?" Mr. Rabbit asked. "me or him?" "well, i really like your necklace," i told him, pointing to the hood ornament. "this shirt represents the slaughtering of the grizzly bear!" Mr. Mink cried. he removed his coat and waved it in the air triumphantly. "this is a slain grizzly bear!" the manager appeared. "i'm going to have to ask you guys to leave," he announced. before he could finish this sentence, Mr. Mink and Mr. Rabbit had bolted out the door as quickly as they had entered. laughing, i tossed the buttons into the nearest trash can. <<<5 december 2001 9:38pm>>>
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<<<4 december 2001 8:37pm>>> current music::: Lush, Lovelife; U2, One (CD maxi-single) Scooter Race!! one of the things i most look forward to about becoming a senior citizen is getting my very own badass scooter. |
