You might think I'm joking, but that's just part of the act.

My head doesn’t hurt as much today. Why? My head cold has moved down, from my temple to my chest. So now I just have a ratchety cough. All things pass, eventually, into the night. Unfortunately I don’t feel sick enough to stay home from work, which means I can attend our mandatory end-of-year affair that only lasts from 3-5 but feels a lot longer. It’s like a really boring wedding or being made to go to someone’s strange religious ceremony that isn’t really about anything. It doesn’t particularly honor anyone, no one gets very wild or interesting. It’s just forced together time. It’s also formal, which doesn’t make much sense since it’s only for two hours on a Monday afternoon. It’s not a nice event, it’s too fancy for what it is. It’s too much effort and there’s no pay off. It fails to do what they expect: create a sense of camaraderie. It’s sad because they could accomplish something greater if they only did something less, something local. When the effort exceeds the event, then it’s already failed. But what do I know? I feel claustrophobic and lonely, as if I’m being inverted and expelled all at the same time. This is the calamity of boredom. I have an awful headache for no good reason this morning. I’m full of complaints, though none of them are of great enough importance to worry about. I want to move forward on some things, but I think I have to wait a while for them. Only a few months. Then I will apply my analytic side to them. They will be my set piece for 2006. It already feels more accomplished to think about it. I watched “Scream” for no reason yesterday and decided the best line in the film is when the Party of Five girl say’s she’s a sexual anorexic. That was the high point for me. Why does David Arquette smile so much? Courtney Cox also didn’t look all that skeletal in it, but maybe it was all that hair (and those highlights). I wanted to go out this weekend, but much like the guy with the early onset Alzheimer’s in Law & Order: Criminal Intent, my cold kept me down the longer the days wore on. This meant I got to go out during the day, but then felt too exhausted at night. Today I feel better, but now there’s nowhere to go. At least I have the next couple of days off. It’s tiring trying to feel slightly sorry for myself. How can I when I have this lovely Jonathan Adler designed note paper box sitting right next to me? Anyone with something this nice is doing ok for himself, a voice is telling me. I’m going to listen to that voice because it sounds so much nicer than yours.

The rules don't apply to me, but the ruler does.

I don’t have a worldly piece of advice or insight to fulfill my obligation to the countless numbers (two or three of you) who stop by here once a quarter. I do have my fan on while I’m at work, however, and this is leading me to no obvious conclusion about the sate of affairs in the office. I’m currently trying to design an audit control report. There are about 25 various If/Then And/Or statements I’m preparing. It’s not that much fun, except that I enjoy reducing any task to its most rudimentary components. Interchange. For those keeping score, my current portable music selection will allow for 25 days, 21 hours, 34 minutes, and 54 seconds of listening pleasure. Uninterrupted. Unrepentant. There are some people who write on-line journals that I feel I am punished to read. Self-inflicted torment, but it still hurts. People, or really more specifically a person, I keep up on because it drives me to distraction. It’s probably made all the more melodramatic because I am aware of this person in reality, the real world, or the analog blogverse. Not sure what you call it anymore. Can’t stand this person in that reality or this one. Keep torturing self with the bitterness-milked postings. Horrendous. Vile. Puke. Vomit. Gore. Viscera. Balls. That being said, it’s none of you who know who you are. It’s someone who doesn’t. Does that help? OK, geek-front update. There’s a slight possibility I’m going to spend one weekend in the near future watching all six Star Wars movies. I don’t know why, it will make me feel useless, but I think I’m going to do it. But first I need to watch Dune (the motion picture), Dune (the TV series), and Children of Dune (the TV series) back-to-back. [Note: Thanks Sean, for somehow being responsible for this desire, though I know it’s probably a lot more my fault than yours, I just felt like fingering someone else (hahaha) with the responsibility.] On being fingered, there’s nothing quite like being lit with a blow to the head. I hope tonight finds me in a smoke filled room wondering how I got there. I need to figure something out so I can tie three elements that need to be tied together, together so that my story-idea finally gets a little longer in the legs. Well, I can’t think of any more boring thoughts to share with an unrespectable public. You’re very ugly, and I swear that smell wasn’t around before you got here.

living in a dermabrasion nightmare

So that’s a moment of creativity in Chicago I can share at the moment. I did that on the first day of my symposium. I also had some time to work on my book, but that stuffs definitely not ready for public viewing. Anyway, just wanted to prove that creativity was indeed a passive member of my traveling party. I had some good times with Sean and Sonya. Better than walking the Magnificent Mile on my own. Rebecca and I also spent a day walking way beyond the ‘mile’ part of the Magnificent Mile, joining up as we eventually did with about 70% of the Chicago-and-beyond fourth grade classes at the Field Museum. We learned where animals come from (other animals), and what it’s like to be a teenager in Tahiti (you have a girlfriend and two male friends and white people from Chicago come to videotape you talk about your life in a non-threatening way and then make two-dimensional standees of you for little kids like me to look at). I had a Skyscraper at the top of the John Hancock Building as well. I forget what Rebecca had, but she did force me to split a crepe with her, so I submitted to her masterful use of threat and ate it. It was good. That’s my report. It was freezing in Chicago. And then it was hot. And then it snowed. The weather was weird last week. It’s now really almost muggy back in Providence. Can the end of the world be close upon us? Of course, so let’s get the orgies in now before it’s too late. Danielle joined me for her own conference. We got to stay at the hotel where all of Oprah’s lovely guests stay. It was like living in a set from the new American Girl movie. I also learned about American Girl, which is how I’m able to make such a comparison. Apparently this mode of doll collection has escaped my usually hawk-like attention. Don’t expect it to make it into my novel, however, those of you who may work for American Girl and dream of a free plug. There’s already way too much anal sex and cannibalism, so pretty little doll dressed just won’t make the final cut. Back to the world of the working limp (not stiff, as that cliché is tired). Two days last week, three this. I feel like a millionaire.

chi kah go

This is not the most amazingly interesting post ever, but it’s true, so I’ll start there. I’m in Chicago, on business, whatever that means. I’ve been at a symposium for two days, and now I have five days of vacation. Good news for me. Visiting here is fun, Sean and Sonya are being troopers and treating me like the royalty they know I am. Sean took me on a quest that lead to a nice purchase of vintage man-porn. Isn’t that a nice thing to do? I think so. Sonya spent an evening with me (just the two of us out on the town, I’ll let dirty minds fill in the blanks) that was great fun. Danielle has arrived without any heartache or trouble; so let the trouble and craziness begin. Oh, yes, we have ALREADY been to a drag show. As of the moment, I’ve left my suite at the Hilton and am staying in a gentrified condo just overlooking a marvelous view of downtown Chicago. I won’t say who’s condo this is or anything, but one parking space costs more than a car. Tomorrow we book into the hotel that Oprah’s finicky guests stay at. Somehow this trip is worth far more than what I’ve had to pay for it, which is next to nothing (thank you travel advances from the big bosses on college hill). I don’t have much at this time to report because I’ve just been out drinking wif me 2 faverit bitchis. We had dinner at a German family-style dining place that was out of this world fun because I don’t ever do things like that. Maybe this time I really won’t go home, even though the thought of poor Varla languishing in a cage is too much to bear. Besides, I’m her touchstone, she needs me, we complete each other. Ok, I’m going to go look at my vintage man-porn and pretend it’s 1977.

get your thin hips out of my face

Obviously the Top Model evening exploded into something more bombastic than I had imagined it would. This is conclusively the best possible outcome. There were more Rebecca’s in the room than you’d ever need to change a light bulb. I must have had a little too much to drink, but that’s probably ok because I’m sure no one noticed at all. Even I felt like a Top Model at an exclusive party, though the cocaine was a little thin-to-none to be found, but c’est la vie. I just pray to Mary Kate and Ashley my wrists don’t fatten up too much before that wedding I have to go to next month. I’m going to try and get away with spiked gauntlets. You know, just in case any single-mother bride’s maids try and get one over on me. I hope they have good mushrooms at this wedding. I’ve found that all the wedding’s I’ve been to lately have at least one person on hand to give me magic mushrooms, so this one will be absolutely no different at all. Speaking of cocaine and foreskins, I can’t wait for this weekend to roll around and sweep me up into the magic of the rube-a-side (where all the rubes live). I’m hoping I’ll have a little chat with Jesus on one of those plastic telephones the Church of the Evangelical Communicators sets up. I know I’ve only ever seen their shoddy particle board set up in the northern parts, but I’m hoping (praying?) I’ll be blessed with a vision out west.

Bringing you a mouse with your tea.

It’s been an age since I last thought well enough of my life to write something about it and bother posting it. In all that time, little has happened of consequence. I am heavily overworked at the moment and all my downtime is spent trying to forget the need to wake up the next morning to go back to work. Midst all this ennui, however, I did see “The Exorcism of Emily Rose.” If you’re wondering what kind of performance one of the best friends from “White Chicks” could pull off in a horror movie where she’s either possessed or an epileptic with psychotic tendencies, then this is where you’ll find your answer. The Catholic school-girl horror movie is nothing new, but this movie goes for full-on horror by removing such needless elements from the genre as sexual relationships, T&A, and bad special effects. What kind of a horror movie does it present, then? A pretty good one, surprisingly. It’s not so-bad-it’s-good, it’s actually good enough that it’s good. A rare turn for the post-Exorcist horror world. She doesn’t pee herself, puke at you, or read your mind. It’s an intense film that marries some good psychological scare tactics with some overt f/x ones. Now I just need to see the Transporter 2 so I can feel violent. I spent an enjoyable day in Boston on Sunday, a task I don’t usually find all that invigorating because I don’t live there anymore and it’s not exactly as fun as New York. But I didn’t buy anything, except for some vitamins from Trader Joe’s, so all I did was walk around not feeling guilty about impulse buying. It grows harder and harder for me to reconcile spending any money in the real world, though this feeling should logically be receding given the cost of gas and how much it must have cost to drive there and back. I just hate thinking about how if I wait a few weeks for something it will either be cheaper online used, or I’ll have lost any interest in owning it. I wish I had some interesting photos to post in my flikr account for you to look at, but just imagine some interesting images and go with that. I would be interested in working on a porn shoot in the Providence area. I could help set up the scenes and maybe work with the continuity person. I am curious as to what it’s like, and since I don’t ogle girls or desire to touch them, I would be a courteous and on-time volunteer.

tipping over the mental cows you hide behind

My boss still hasn’t finished rewriting my job description so I can have my promotion, but hopefully by next month she will. Come on, I want money. She is letting me come up with the position title, however, so that’s a bonus. It has to be something that sort-of commands respect because of the people I’ll be dealing with, but also somewhat technical. I’m trying not to let my imagination fly free with this one. In other, more exciting news, my dry erase board is covered in diagrams for my new database and an update on my existing one. It’s so exciting to come in every day and try to remember what the symbols I used mean. What does Msub1 mean??? I don’t remember. It has something to do with a main data set, but I don’t remember which one. But there are plenty of arrows stemming from it, so it must be important. I loaded Google Talk and Sean treated me to an eavesdropping session of his office. It was Felliniesque. Or noise pop. Not sure which one more so than the other. (note: I think you need a Gmail account in order to use Google Talk.) I’m going to reread Dennis Cooper’s new novel, “God, Jr,” this weekend. It was so good the first time I didn’t finish the last part so I could absorb the bulk of it again without knowing how it ends. His is probably the only art that makes me cry without actually being the kind of story to make you cry, it’s just sort of breathtaking. Maybe I’m overly sensitive to that kind of flaying of the human psyche. That sort of soul-raping feeling. It’s probably the best feeling I can have without chemicals, so when I find it I need to recognize it. I self-soul-raped myself once, with a story I wrote, and I was never able to reread it after I’d finalized it. It almost hurt too much to be a good kind of pain. Yes, yes, but no, I’m not trying to make myself sound good, it was just a moment in time. I’ve just loaded the following amount of Queen’s music into iTunes via my external hard drive: 1 day, 1 hour, 55 minutes, 37 seconds. 1.92 GB. That’s a lot. It should certainly see me through the day. Right now, “Leaving Home Ain’t Easy,” is playing. From the “Jazz,” album. Brian May vocal, with an amazing mini-tribute to the Beatles in the middle eight. It’s not raping my soul, but it is giving me goose bumps. I’m such a girl, I have to go get some coffee (not as if that will change anything, but it will set my blood on fire).

P1010078

P1010078
Originally uploaded by boxedrobot.

A picture I took in the Japanese Tea Garden.

Some trip recap, more to follow.

Trip report, part one, real time. So, after a weekend of near never-ending excitement that included a highly charged, though very intimate party at Ms. RL’s, followed by a leisurely day of sitting by Ms. RZ’s pool reading Ms. Judy Blume’s “Blubber” (it was on my summer reading list) I am finally in the air, heading on the first leg of my trip to San Diego and San Francisco. This involves me spending an hour in Minnesota. That’s about all I can say so far about that. (P.S. I also enjoyed the enlarging of Ms. RZ's breasts. They got quite big, and attracted the attention of boys like nothing I've got to dazzle with.) Providence’s TF Green airport has become a cattle-cade of people on queue for the security check in. I had my boarding pass printed for me by my saviour, Ms. D. So I felt that I could arrive about an hour before boarding. This was enough time on a Tuesday, but I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer. The number of zombies who get to travel by air is simply limitless. They are all so lost, and all they have to do is wait in line. I do enjoy the Homeland Security video on a loop, also the placards with the pledge to keep as secure as they can. Thanks for doing a good job, I’ve made it just out of Rhode Island in one piece, and hope to keep it that way (at least till Alcatraz). There’s a $3 box lunch on offer, which I will obviously pass on. I’m wondering now if there will at all be anything open once I get to the Manchester in San Diego. I’m not too sure what I’ll be hungry for on a drug/drink free night at 2.30 in the morning, but we’ll see what’s on offer and what I feel capable of eating. No doubt it will be a heart wrenching experience. Traveling coach is not a great option when you have a larger laptop. It doesn’t quite fit on the tray in front of me so I’m actually having to type using my lap as a semi-flat surface. I just forgot how to spell surface. Off to a good start. Ok, now the plane is shaking and I feel like the pant load in front of me is going to lean back, so end of part one. We’re going to be late. Not very late, but late enough for the two middle-aged Minnesotins next to me to start getting angry. The husband is reading Harry Potter, the wife some romance paperback in one of those paperback cozy things only someone like her would have. She’s saying that it’s ‘bullshit’ we’re delayed because of, wait for it, thunderstorms. The plane has been bouncing like the one in the commercials for that Snoop Dog movie. Really. The flight crew, this lady with helmet hair, yelled over the intercom for the people in the tail end of the plane to stay seated. She really yelled, and not just once. But it’s all bullshit, you know? I mean, the weather is so predictable and you can always count on the airlines to use it as an excuse. At least that’s the reasoning of the slickless-wonder beside me. Trip report, part 2, real time/autopsy mode. After a breathtakingly poor amount of time to make my connection, in the strange port of St. Paul, Minnesota, I sat on the runway for an hour. An hour in which no member of the flight crew said anything to us. An hour in which the guy next to me fell asleep with his head in the crash position, resting on the seat in front of him. At least no one was reading Harry Potter this time around. There’s a guy a few rows up who might just be 500 years old. Really. He looks like an ancient monument. Grizzled, but tall like the mighty oak. A thick head of silvery hair, combed back classicly. He’s pretty twisted up with a huge black cane. He’s a million years old, maybe he was the young lover of a younger William Burroughs. Maybe. He was in the toilet for about 30 minutes. I assumed he died, but he came back out and sat down. 15 minutes later there was a call over the intercom for a doctor or any other medical professional. They took this old dude to the back of the plane. Did he actually die in the can? Maybe will power alone got him back to his seat, his corpse just cared that much about his dignity. I don’t know. It’s midnight, 33,000 feet up in the air, almost pitch black, half the plane is asleep. Except for the girl a row in front of me flirting with the three guys a row in front of her. She’s pretty limber, sitting with her feet up parallel with the seat in front of her, folded in half. She’s pretty in the way that girls who flirty that easily are. The guys are typical jockish looking Abbercrombie ones. The kind who are used to girls like her doing what she does, and do it right back just as easily. They suddenly look a bit stricken as the call comes for the doctor. It’s a long way down but we’re not going anywhere soon, and what do they do with a body at this height? He doesn’t die, he comes back to his seat to live out the rest of the flight. I wonder if they were going to lie him flat and stow him under the seat. He’s too big for that. The rest of the flight is boring. We land in San Diego at 11:45. It’s closer to three in the morning for me. I have to walk through the airport wondering if my ride will be there. The shuttle I paid in advance for to pick me up at 11:15. I hit the street at 11:58. No shuttle. I know it’s supposed to run 24/7 so I hope it’s on the :15, because that leave me with about a 20 minute wait. Pays off, too, because it comes at 12:16. I get to the hotel by 12:40 and start to check in. My boss has a call in for me so I talk to her for a few minutes to be greeted by the clerk with great news. My room isn’t ready and I have to go to another hotel. At a time when my body thinks it’s nearly four in the morning, when the clock says it’s nearly one, I am shepherded into a cab with a voucher so I don’t have to pay. This is just one fact that will confuse my cab driver. The other, more important thing that confuses him is my destination, four blocks away. He gets us lost and drives up onto the sidewalk trying to take a normal right turn. I figure out wither the other hotel is by the large sign. He still doesn’t get it, he hasn’t even turned the meter off from his last fare. A two minute ride is now nearly $20. I fill in $5 on the voucher and don’t tip him. He was a complete waste of time and could have gotten me killed, I suppose. Also, I feel the hotel owes him a tip, and owes me an apology. My temporary hotel is pretty nice, a boutique hotel with an amazing courtyard. I spend 10 hours there, four of which involve getting some sleep. I wake up at 7 in the morning, forget that I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, which is now closing in on a 24 hour period and walk back to my real hotel. The room still isn’t ready so I’ll have to carry around my laptop all day, plus the new carrier bag I get from the conference with a 250 page manual-type book of power point presentations. Until 3:00. When my room is finally ready. So this is the travel process I endure. And the first thing I eat is a gray version of a hamburger. A ghost of the real thing. But at least it keeps me going until 5 when I get a good meal. And I keep myself up until 11 to get a sense of reality back in me. And now it’s day two of the conference and I feel human again. I’m not learning a single thing, our group is so far ahead of the curve it’s not even funny. At least now I know I could work in any research shop across the country, my knowledge base is so large. I’m going to need an ego check at some point, but this is probably why my boss even brought me here, to get a sample of what my ‘competition’ is. Now I feel more confident about my database building skills. No one else here on my level is doing something like that. Other things I did a year ago are being talked about as ‘goals’ or ‘ideals.’ I didn’t even know, I rock the research world. Fuck it, I really want some pretzels and I’m definitely having some Jack at lunch.

As unhip as I am witless.

I suppose I’m officially vexed. The software I ordered still hasn’t come, leaving me, at this time, about 8 hours total to get my new database working, and that’s if-and-only-if the software arrives in the next two hours. If it’s not here today or tomorrow there’s no hope of this even being beta before the 19th. Did I mention I have no idea how this is going to work, how I’m going to pull it off, how it’s going to be useful? And I had hoped to be somewhat beyond this early confusion at this point in the week. Oh, well. I did what I could. I’m not going to worry about it, I just would have like to have at least failed on time, not been stuck in limbo. The week has been a bit weird anyway, probably because even though I know I’m going to be away for the next two weeks I haven’t really thought about it, so the reality of the time is a little sketchy. I don’t have to work Monday or Tuesday, and I leave Tuesday night. I guess I’ll start to think about it on Sunday, when I can pack a few things. I’m more worried about the most space-economical way of bringing some DVD’s with me to watch on my laptop. I should have learned how to rip them beforehand and taken them on the HD with me. But I didn’t. UglyAgnes and I saw “The Island,” last night. Two hours of Ewan McGregor learning that he is a clone. Two hours of Scarlett Johansson being breathy. It was a fun ride for the time. It didn’t really do much to bring attention to the cloning debate, since the only possible point to take from this movie is that cloning is unfair to the clones. The film expects you to infer a lot more information than I assume the average ‘summer blockbuster’ viewer is going to be capable of, but there are more car/hover bike/train chases than you would expect from a movie that borrows so liberally from “Logan’s Run.” I do enjoy a big sci-fi picture, however, and this is the only one on offer besides “Star Wars,” another McGregor clone movie. At least we’re progressing through August, and at least half of this month I’ll be away, which means that cooler weather is coming soon. This is will be of great comfort to me as I begin the massive project of cleaning and organizing everything I own over the winter. I’m going to compress space as much as possible. Everything that can is going to be stored digitally. The next place I live, I hope to make a wireless wonderland.

To the world united, un-unite.

I thought I would be very productive today, but that didn’t happen. Not my fault, the software I ordered is now coming in late. In any event, I started to work on the database the software is going to be added to, and actually made a lot of progress on that end of things. I suppose this means I was productive after all. UglyAgnes and I had an awesome lunch today. Awesome. Awesome. Yes, it was good. I read a comment from some guy about something, with an observation included that read “I’m not really a feminist.” Which I found funny, as I wondered what that meant, is it something like “I’m not really an atheist?” “I don’t really believe in the goals of feminism, but I do believe certain tenants…” vs. “I don’t really believe in the tenants of atheism, like there’s no god, but on certain points I can agree…” with what? Am I being foolish in reducing both of these belief systems down to either/or properties? No. They are both fairly ridiculous, as are all beliefs. The application of thought to anything reduces it to nothing, therefore nothing is worth considering. Yes, your ideals and beliefs are pointless, no matter what they are. And the harder you fight for and try to believe in something, the more impossible it will become to realize. When people say they are something, or are for something, I automatically think, no you’re not. You’re not that at all. You’re lying to yourself, attempting to lie to me, but I see it for what it is, that which it is not. Things that I find most unbelievable include the use of the term ‘equality’ because this is the most obvious lie of the liberal age. It is also one of the most rampantly used terms in conjunction with just about anything, but it is completely meaningless. Any approach to this term involving logic should prove that one out. This is not what programming databases all day yields, but it is what happens at 3:45.

The cream you thought was rising just dripped down your chin.

I think there were a lot of annoying children out late at night buying books. But I was asleep. This means I missed, avoided, got around, slept through all the excitement. Well, that’s if you assume my dreams are worthlessly populated with uneventful happenings. I happened to be off Friday afternoon so I did go and see that chocolate movie that made so much money. While not particularly impressive, it was also not completely unworthy of the effort. Though, here again, there were annoying children. Not hordes, so I was spared that indignity. Saturday night we enjoyed a night of charitable giving that resulted in a locked down block party. Multiple drag performances swept before us. One stole the show: my friend and, well, most likely not yours. The mayor was there. I had any number of drinks. Which number? The one required to make me smile. So, quite a few actually. There are too many things going on in the background at the moment. Good things. Things that bubble with the kind of latent excitement that almost makes my stone cold dead heart beat. But those are things that will affect the future, not the immediate moments I’m spending here, so they fall into the ‘not now’ category. I did hang my ‘Providence Roller Derby’ emblematic sticker up at work. I’m not sure how this will affect my status amongst my coworkers. Perhaps they will assume I enjoy watching the girls roller skate with their shorts on, their short shorts. The hiked-up socks. The t-shirts. Whatever the thought process, yes, I’m in the middle. Presumably with my mental machine gun, diligently machine gunning down their imaginations. Pumping hot lead into the soft side of their minds and coming out screaming. Here’s a thought: The Karate Kid II is not as good as The Karate Kid. Now, it’s not a particularly revolutionary thought, but you just had it as well. And you only had it because I put it in your head. Do you see how humbled you are before me? Welcome to the new dominion.

Switched on/off

I really love Wendy Carlos. She manages to make me feel the inventive and intellect-expanding power of her work just by mention of her name alone. I have been obsessed with synthetic music for my entire life; really one of the first pieces of music I embraced was made entirely of non ‘real’ source elements. This fascination with the sound and the narrative abilities of synthesized sound continue within me, unabated many years later. I wish I were a more competent musician, rather than the plodding key stroker that I am. Anyway, mention the name Wendy Carlos to me and I promise you my endorphin levels are soaring. Play her music, I am in the throes of a Muse, I suppose. I’m not really talking about her for any particular reason today. Just a thought that I felt needed expression beyond just the firing of synapses. Mustn’t let even my meager tribute fail to exist beyond my own mind. I’m still in the midst of creating my digital music database. I’m going to attempt ripping every cd I own and storing them all on portable hard drives. I have one at the moment, I assume I’ll need another before I’m done. I’m not sure if the split between should be based on use of the files in question, or if I should keep a well cataloged, data based set of files. I’ll see where I go when I need the second drive. It would be great to put all my DVD’s on one drive as well. Just plug it into the tv and pick a movie to watch. I assume we’ll be there shortly, but I don’t think it’s worth worrying about right now. At the moment I’m listening to Bonnie Tyler, “Faster than the Speed of Night.” Not a really great track, but I’m on a random music odyssey at work today. She does have a wonderful voice, however. Something so distinctive always will impress me. I enjoy singers with character. I’m wondering if this will suddenly jump to a Judas Priest track next. It’s great to have my loves of pop, metal, and synth music all randomly filtered through iTunes. Allows me to remember what it is I love about music to begin with. Ahh, 3 Inches of Blood just came on. Pirates, Orcs, battle swords, metal. Can’t beat that (without getting a bloody nose).

Monday's relentless ?'s

We were in a hotel room last night overlooking downtown Providence. The windows only opened a mere 3.5 inches. I wondered if anyone has ever been determined enough to commit suicide and calmly sat in the bathtub sawing their limbs off into small hunks that would fit through the non-jumper friendly windows. And then there were some fireworks that didn't fail to be a bit boring. I was mostly interested in the wine. And so I continue being me. Rollerderby was quite the scene. I enjoyed that. I like aggro girls, I suppose. They frighten me, and I've always enjoyed that. I have my new external hard drive. It's exactly what I needed to start my new digital music library and lose (hopefully) half of my physical cd's. Exciting times, I'm sure. I think I'll get around to finishing my rebuild of the website this week. I have a vague notion of what it will look like. I'll work on it at work, as that's obviously the most fruitful creative time.

if you cut my throat i'll bleed royal jelly

so, what do alexis and andrea want to see? the puppet show inside my head? it's so gory and full of self-loathing. but there's always room for cheesecake and a bit of catching up out on the lanai. those two...they make me feel like i've just gone through menopause and i'm starting the next 'chapter' in my life! my collection of collectable plates (mostly Franklin Mint you can be sure) will be coming out of storage next month. we should have a plate hanging party, maybe get a little moused up on cosmos and take turns chasing men down at the senior center. what a gas! i can't believe you're even here looking for me, you stalkers! you make me feel so shiny and new, like wet leather. well, i'm going to grunt and groan my way through the rest of the work day, so you can just use your imagination to put me someplace much more fun. let's get drunk on tequila soon.

Trying to get things set up correctly, seems to be working. Need to tweak the layout of course. Other than that, my flu has stopped me from being able to look at these screens without feeling pain, so enough for now.

tripping on shoes

This weekend has been too much of a soft blur, edges erased or rubbed into putty. Frankly, it was really needed. I got nothing done, I bought too much and I've had too many bad things in my body. But, there you go. Maybe I'll come down a little this week, except for Tuesday, but then I won't be able to help myself. Ok, nothing else at all to say.

saturday night rage

Wembley-man. I just heard them say that. Funny.

OK, that's the only thought I'm putting out there tonight.

cld s__x parts

This is not what I had in mind. Anyway, who do you think will complain? The last time I heard, checked, or bothered to pay attention, no one would. Smells like the dead in here, the recetnly arisen dead. The kind that have been rotting long enough to have forgotten what it's like to be charming. They just push and push and push and all I can do is think about rounding a few of them up and throwing some of my friends to their mercy.