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Things I´ve learned from the web this week
Aculpoco is on the southern west coast of Mexico, bordering the Pacific. Walt Disney was rumored to have been cryogenically frozen, but that was just a rumor – when he died in 1966, cryogenics were not advanced enough to freeze an entire person. The Village Voice not only has horoscopes, they are frighteningly accurate. "Foo" is not only an actual word, it is defined by
The Free Online Dictionary of Computing
as a metasyntactic variable, sometimes combined with "baz" to make "foobaz." Djibouti is an actual country bordering on Somalia, Ethiopea, and Eritrea.
I have the ability to fall asleep at any time in any place. Being surrounded by all this academia may give me narcolepsy. I will not be kept awake by the raucous, hazardous-sounding golfing in the hallway, or the cries of vengeful kleptomaniacs. Sleep is what I do. I wonder if this has any future career implications for me. I'm considering psychology. I saw a documentary once where they made Alan Alda sleep in a university basement with wires glued to his head to measure brain patterns. I'll be a sleep researcher. I'll do the sleeping, you do the research.
"No More Poetry" and "Passenger Side" by Wilco; "My Head is in the Sun," the Rentals; "Devil's Dance Floor" and "What's Left of the Flag" by FLOGGING MOLLY; "Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes," They Might Be Giants; "Tiny City Made of Ashes," Modest Mouse; "Killing Moon," Pavement; more Weezer demos, incl. "Reason to Worry" (Pat sings),"Too Late to Try" and "My Brain," which should DEFINITELY have been on their last album; various tracks by Cake, incl.
(he is calling you DUDE!) and Sheep Go To Heaven (Goats Go to Hell)...go to hell...go to hell...makes me so friggin happy.
I had a sudden inexplicable vision of myself in a few years. I'm at a desk in what is apparently my home office (am I really a freelance writer, or did I take the day off?) piled high with papers and notes, I'm bent over at the computer, writing with one hand and typing with the other. There's an open beer (green bottle) next to my mousepad. My hair is a mess. My computer is blaring "The Good Life" by Weezer and the tv is on, either the news or VH1's History of Rock and Roll. Don't ask me why.
Necesito practicar español porque tengo un exámen mañana. Un exámen oral. Sabe un poco. Camarones, langosta. Saltaba la cuerda cuando era niña. Subía las árboles. Me gustan los árboles. Envié una carta a mi amiga el fin de semana pasada. Sí, lo le envié. (¿es correcto?) Tenía solo once años cuando conocé a mi amiga, en el verano en un campo. Me parezco a mi mamá mucho. Tengo una hermana, y me llevo bien con ella. Yo quería ir al baile el Día de los Muertos pasado, pero mis amigas no quisieron quedar. Miré televisión, bebí refrescos y tomé azucar.
empty harmonies of traveling lutes
there are no jesters.
the conqueror sits in the dungeon-depths
he sharpens his spear in the dark
the maiden is not in her tower
the maiden is not in her bower
the maiden is somewhere beneath here,
as the lonely minstrel strums.
when spring returns, the player sings, the merry birds will hum
the forests vibrate with the sound that takes flight with the rising sun
the heavens will shower unto every hour, drawing light from what was black
but oft we hear what the people fear, that the girl will not come back.
If I could have the superpower of my choice...the ability to fly would be pretty high on the list, granted, but does it come with the ability to navigate well? Because with my sense of direction, I could get real lost real fast. As for other superpowers...admit it, ice breath is useless unless your fridge is out of order. X-ray vision is sorta hazardous (give people cancer just by staring them down!). I'd rather be invisible. If I could be 100% sure I was invisible (without the risk of getting stuck like that), I could have a lot of fun...
i have a long black coat which gives my shadow a very menacing look as the wind puffs it out to reveal my not-so-menacing sweater...I feel like Darth Vader in argyle. Today was, what? A morning of no-shows and a miniature Chinese lesson, an evening of high-speed regicide (among other excellent theatrical exploits), late night with a particularly immodest German film. Later, (post-sleep), will be helicases, RNA primases, aminoacyl-TRNA synthetase; binary fission, Helicobacter Pylori, and extreme halophiles. Also a few hundred pages of philosophical history, beginning with Descartes. After that, I do not think I know. Suggestions, methinks, are welcome.
I used to wish for a queendom
I aspired to acquire a throne
but bastards are prone to usurping.
I never could beat them alone.
In my quest for queendom I decided
I would give it a valiant try
So then I packed up all my troubles,
braved the Forest to find an ally.
On my trek through the lands still uncharted
For weeks I found not a soul
no powerful witches nor wizards
nor banshee nor hobbit nor troll.
Finally I encountered a hermit
Well-acquainted we became indeed
but hermits don't start revolutions
they'd rather play fiddles and read.
I spent several hours yesterday (today?) pondering the possibility of a haircut, and I'm not even through with Descartes. You know what I would like? Some York Peppermint Patties. It's only a little walk to a place where I can be absurdly overcharged for candy simply by having my happy yellow card swiped. If I give myself ten minutes, and sprint all the way without a jacket, I could interfere less with the time I am already wasting...although I could always wait, read a little and go for candy after that...Descartes now and York Peppermint Patties later? I think not.
Locked my door and considered turning off the light so the Fu Wah man wouldn't get me. It was a dark and stormy night. The phone rings. "Your Fu Wah is here," says a mysterious voice. "Come get your Fu Wah."
"I didn't order anything." I stammer.
"Well den who da fak was i'? You come down here and get your Fu Wah!" Hung up the phone and guarded the door, fearing that every sound in the hallway was the rustle of takeout bags, that in the morning they would find my body on the floor, full of chopstick wounds.
Travel. Now. Want to. Go. Other. Places. It's not just me. I did not say this was boring. But once the idea was thrown out there I realized it was right all along. See the world. Learn stuff. The real way. People who stay here all their lives are depressed people. Jersey eats people. I (heart) New York. I (heart) Jersey too. Sometimes. Really. Right now so much depends on that which is difficult and means little. In all honesty I'd be scared out of my mind to study abroad. But that's all the more reason to think about it.
Oh, man. Oh, man o man. It's cold and I'm itchy and washing my clothes has become slightly less than a necessity. I ran out of soda. I ran out of space in my compact disc holder. I ran out of ideas, period. I'm cold, I'm wet, and I'm just plain scared! (It's only a party, Janet.) Back in the day I used to try to growl like (Pimpernellian Broadway actor) Douglas Sills...back in the day people used to take that as innapropriate commentary that I did not mean like that. I just wanted to make a cool noise. Hear...you...me...
The soy drink was disgusting. There are some things in this world I don't understand -- and one of them is fans of Fresh Samantha. Another mystery to me is fans of bands like Creed, but that's a completely different neo-rant. Come to think of it, Fresh Samantha ought to be the name of an indie-punk band. An all-boy indie-punk band. That would be nifty. Fresh Samantha should not be the name of a bottled liquid that looks enticing packaged, causing the purchaser to be diverted by thoughts of "creamy" and "vanilla almond" while ignoring words like "soy shake." Ugh.
Oddities. I have the distinct feeling that I won't be remembering Hermione and Albus and the rest of them tomorrow, through no fault of theirs. I was quite pleased with the new faces -- especially Colin Creevey, Mr. Weasley, even Tom Riddle. I think I appreciated Lockhart's current incarnation more than the rest of the audience. Another thought -- when I see Alan Rickman's ink-black dye job, I can't help but remember how he was the best damn drunken archangel ever to grace the cast of a Kevin Smith movie. Somehow his current villain role just isn't as much fun.
I banish thee from my happy haven of know-nothingness and shall smite you, offender, as soon as I work up the energy. Blessed be the slackers, for trouble they do not cause. Blessed be the idle, for they shall inherit the sleep. Berkeley says we are but ideas in the mind of God...it causes me to wonder where daydreams would figure into that equation, ours or His. Loss of appreciation for the surreal nature of everyday things would, for me, mean the loss of the one thing I see as constant...and I am beginning to wake up from this dream.
When I wanted worlds to paint
Costumes to wear
I think it was here
Because it never was there.
Ignorance is not bliss, darling, and it never was. Only now are we looking beyond the colorful playthings and accepting the notion that there is no One True Perfect Answer to be found Out There Someplace. There's A Workable Solution Sometimes, sure, and there are options. Make do with what you have, but don't underestimate what's available. Actions speak louder than words and all that. Most important of all, never think about philosophy for more than ten minutes. Ever.
Dear Imaginary Englishman: It gives me much pleasure to see an old friend return. I can recall many happy times we shared together in my youth. I am, however, vaguely troubled by the fact that you are imaginary. I feel I ought to question the return of my habit of talking to you, er, myself, out loud. Especially now that there is likely people within earshot. Your expertise in philosophy and poetic thought are much appreciated; I do, however, think I ought to be a little more afraid than I am now. Right now I think you're marvelous. Welcome back!
Charlemagne: Excellent work with the "blew my breath across a continent/and shaped an empire with it!" monologue. Some timing on jokes needed work. Fastrada: My, but you are tiny. I think you said "housewife and mother" a few too many times. Lewis: Great funnyman. Catherine: At first very Goodie Two-Shoes, became a surprisingly lovely, sympathetic presence. Theo: Too damn cute. Pippin: Appropriately gangly; lovely vocals. Was probably directed to "act like you're acting" at points. I'll bet there wasn't a bit of choreography in the show that wasn't directly from the Broadway original. However, their Tambourine Dancer Men were great.
I was going to suggest that the little roundfaced fluffyhaired kindergardener color one bunny pink, before I realized she was making a pattern of orange, yellow and green bunnies. Little things like that show she was putting thought into her homework. I was preoccupied with the birthmark by her left ear before I realized that cutie pie had no left ear. Instead, she had an ear-length piece of cartilage, crumpled to the side of her head. I moved to her right side in case she had trouble hearing, and she told me about her dentist appointment and her doctor's visit.
"Free turkey dinner, save a political prisoner, feel good about yourself...I don't see any downsides." That was his sales pitch. Bizarre, but effective: raffle ticket to win a turkey dinner if one signed the petition to save the Kurdish prisoner in Turkey. I said I wasn't comfortable putting my name on something Ididn't know too much about (the truth). He said go ahead, read. I had a bagfull of food and said I'd be back later. Lame-o. He was cute too.
Somehow I had learned it was right to care, wrong to get involved. Not right, but how I behave.
"Hello, sweetheart," the kindly woman lies
Nothing seems to warm her chilly smile;
Nor the anger-masking-vacance in her eyes,
"Come here, sit, 'twill only be a while."
Her visitor reluctantly obeys,
and listens to her tales of sullen woe;
for since has passéd many, many days
the guest does not possess the strength to go.
Quarter to twelve, a knock upon the door
Freedom for this prisoner of the mind?
Unless--a new guest be the same way lured
and noone exit from this room shall find--
at midnight sound the churchbells on the hill
unluckily the listeners sit still.
Went back to my high school for their adaptation of Two Gentlemen of Verona. The charm is not only in its watchable imperfection, but in clever modernizations, ad-libbing, and one hell of a cute pooch. The students would always push toward anachronism, and here they seem to have pushed their influence into the mainstream of Things The Director Would Actually Encourage. The result? Everything from hobby-horses to Harry Potter. Great moments: overall, not phenomenal...the experience, not the play itself, was rather depressing. Now I have left my former home away from home for good, and I do not miss it.
Plans: Three small square bluish abstracts to the right of the mirror, maybe something larger in green to the left of the sink. A much larger purple piece next to the dark red undersea motif near the head of my bed; and a sketch in black with lavendar tints over my dresser. Some sort of portrait collage, tending toward turquoise, near the other two small collages; something, who knows what, next to the purple mini-poster. Something long, with oranges and reds, for the closet door. I forgot the yellow picture with the bird shape; I'll make something else like it.
The weather: absolutely gorgeous. The roomate: absent for a large percentage of this evening. Time spent getting out of bed today: Two and a half hours. Doomsday: Tomorrow or two weeks from now, it makes no difference. Stuck on msn Word Twist and I can't get off. In all probability, will have the floor to myself wednesday morning; I'm pondering what music to wake up to. Something obnoxious. Need to see good friend of mine over Thanksgiving. Haven't spent time alone with her since Java Johnny's, Charlie Browns. That was many months ago. Wonder if she could pencil me in.
Biology teachers say the oddest things every once in a while...
"I mean, can you imagine school with out Post-Its? I mean, they're purple now!"
"When those plants have sex, there better be enough calcium."
...but nobody bothers to listen.
You know what's potentially destructive? Spearmint-flavored Excedrin. Cure your breath and your headache at the same time. Tastes good too. That's one way to get addicted to drugs.
But it's so minty.
"I mean, do the masses ever think -- and of course they don't -- how important calcium is to the pollination of plants?"
Science people. Buncha freakin weirdos.
Turns out Rachel's planning a freaking high school reunion over break. Cool. My large house is much more claustrophobic than my small dorm room.
I'm going to refuse to go in the kitchen tomorrow. The whole turkey tradition irks me to no end. Valentines is at least sugar-oriented, and with a color scheme devoted to bright red; much more cheerful than this damn harvest season brown and orange. Halloween is guilty of the stereotyping of witches in a ridiculous manner, but these pilgrim hats, if not as inaccurate, are just as stupid. I just think we can do better somehow.
Home is a perfectly nice place. If I still had to live here, I would kill someone. God bless the university where I squander my time, for giving me a cozy 9-by-12 with none of my family members in it.
Weezer, a rough translation. Almost fits the tune. Almost rhymes. Called 'La Vida Buena.'
Miro en el espejo
No creo en que lo vi
¿Quién es el "funky dude"
que mira a mi?
Quiero hacer algo
Ha muerto, viejo
Se cae al suelo
Hace mucho frío
Y yo vivo solo
No quiero ser un "lone man" nada más...
Tonight's "Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie" shows just how much Kermit T. Frog has evolved as a dramatic actor. When he lashes into his spastic rant wishing he had never been born, it echoes with real frustration of an amphibian wronged; later, we see the relationship between him and his oft-seen costar Piggy reach a whole new level. This is just the vehicle to give Kermie what he deserves, recognition as one of the world's top amphibithespians.
One of my other favorites was Gonzo's acoustic number, although we never find out what became of his companion Amy the Dancing Brick.
i like to ride in cars and think...my ideas are like illegitimate children. they exist, but they're scared, they know someone will find them unacceptable...someone almost important was logged in wednesday, but I don't know when, I don't remember how many hours are between EST and PST. I wonder if the tissue box photograph was real, if it is, it's a very good thing. I remember that girl, I liked her a lot, she had a big butt. I look up to some people although they are very short. Somebody somewhere in the world has cheesecake, and they aren't sharing.
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