chick-book review

over the weekend i read It's My F---ing Birthday by Merrill Markoe.

it's not a very long book, the language is simple, and the story is very basic (a middle-aged woman recounts in birthday "state-of-the union" style journal entries all the things that have gone wrong and right (mostly wrong) in her life). however, it took me all weekend to read the barely 200+ pages of the book because, frankly, i wanted nothing more than to put it down.

how they can compare this piece of crap to bridget jones's diary is beyond me. this is not like bridget jones's diary. not even close. It's My F---ing Birthday is pathetic in a completely humorless way. every chapter repeats itself with unhappy birthday celebrations with family members who annoy, humiliate, and infuriate not only the narrator but the reader as well. i wanted to punch these fictitious people. punch them right in the baby maker. punch them and then stab them with butterknives, then stuff them into pilllow cases and throw them down a sewer drain. i want to do the same with the book's author.

our "hero" is no charmer, nor is she very believable, nor do you feel any sympathy toward her. what this character is, is a needy, self-loathing, wretch who continually obsesses over a horrible lost love, winds up in relationships that are not only wrong, but fucking lame, and spends her birthdays year after year with her despicable parents who berate, nitpick and insult their daughter for kicks. and she never really develops beyond this! so after reading the first two chapters of this book you think, ok, something's going to change. she's going to apply all the lessons she's learned from the previous year and change. but no! she is in fucking Groundhog's Day. and she's doomed to repeat each misstep next year.

there was nothing redeeming to be read in It's My F---ing Birthday. it wasn't entertaining. it wasn't clever. the situations weren't original. the characters are boring and uninspired.

i hate hate hate this book!!!

the rage is coming back just writing about it.

i must stop now before my head explodes.

don't read this book. it sucks.

in short, It's My F---ing Birthday is more grrrrrrrrrrrrr power than grrrrrrrrrrl power.

indirect neglect

sometime in between recovering from the birthday weekend and today i have occupied myself with other modes of distraction, and as a result have neglected my poor blog.

how did my life get so full?

i suppose it's not such a horrible thing to happen to someone. but the busyness of the everyday makes it difficult to sit still for an hour or two or three and write.

so here's what i've been doing instead:


thursday 8/26
work was work. nothing crazy. no screaming matches or tirades. no impromptu walkouts. i think the beatdown machine was happy enough to hum steadily along for a change. ho hum...

later -

glyphic wasn't feeling well so he canceled the weekly poker game. it was kind of a shame because the rest of the posse was willing to play cards chez moi. however, we didn't have any poker chips. and when we couldn't borrow any i thought it was decided that we would abandon the idea altogether. emails flew back and forth. but still people were confused. and so i decided that i was just gonna get some yummy half-off sushi instead. gentleman drinker met chez moi and we waited for penquin and isobel to arrive. i think glyphic was trying to make gentleman drinker and myself feel responsible for the lack of "hot poker action." but by this point we really didn't care. and we certainly weren't about to forego sushi for him to lose $3.00 and me to hover around even. heh
when penquin and isobel joined us at our table we ordered an ocean of sushi, some cold ones, etc. we joked around about isobel almost dying on the bathroom floor, gentleman drinker's somewhat mo-ish noises, the ridiculousness of some of the olympic events, potter obsession and pseudo-pediness. very entertaining. but the sushi was the highlight. it was sooooo good (not to mention cheap) and so worth the "guilt" of missing cards for the week. all in all it was a wholly satisfying night.

friday 8/27
lots of gourmet food is not good for one's diet even if at the time it sounds like a good idea. so after a week of ignoring my better judgment it was time to get back on better terms with my body. i put on my green mini ipod and walked whiskey around the park for 45 minutes. then i went to the gym for about 2 hours. did some cardio for 30 minutes and spent the rest of the time doing various weight exercises. i thought i was going to pass out from all the strain and almost wussed out by not maxing out on the reps. but it's such a good feeling to work out really hard. and by the end of it your limbs are heavy and sore and you can barely move to drive the five minutes home. and what's even better is that all this work gives you license to lie down on the couch and watch a movie or read a book for the rest of the day. which is precisely what i did.

saturday 8/28
penquin and i had every intention of going hiking. we put on shorts and sunscreen. and "bob" was even going to come with. but we decided after getting our bagels that it was too hot and smoggy to go too close to the sun in the angelus mountains, especially if there was uncertainty as to the tree shade count. and as "reason" and "logic" were pointing us to extremes and improbable choices we finally decided that we could get our sunshine time and outdoor activity at descanso gardens. so we went there.

most of the flowers were faded, but we did get to see an underwater turkey at the avian observation station. (ok, so there wasn't really an underwater turkey but it sure did look like one.) really, it was this crazy looking turtle that didn't look like any of the other turtles in the pond. this one had the head of a turkey! and since it's body was submerged in the murky water you couldn't tell what animal form it was. so "reason" and "logic" told us that that thing swimming in the water was none other than the ultra-rare underwater turkey. there was also a really wicked looking goose who kept an evil eye on us until we felt threatened enough to turn around. stupid birds.

then we took the tram tour around the park. i thought we bought tickets for the glorified lawn mower/yellow train, so was slightly disappointed to find out that we were going to spend an hour on a tram trailer listening to our guide talk to us about the three exhibits that set descanso apart as a botanical garden. this actually wasn't as bad as it sounded. our senior citizen guide was very well-informed. he gave us a history lesson of the place while describing the various trees and their uses in great detail. it was nice to see and hear this old-timer give back all that he had learned to a younger generation. the only sketchy part(s) of our tram ride were a few moments where we felt we were going to topple off the side of the road. our guide kept driving dangerously close to the edge, and several times during the tour people were getting their heads and arms tangled up in shrubbery.

after the tour we walked around the japanese tea house (i think there was going to be some kind of celebration going on after hours because the place was decorated with paper lanterns) and watched as the koi were fed pellets from a bucket. then we went to the gift store where "bob" was indirectly, unintentionally warned not to touch anything. heh.

i ended up buying some candles and these really awesome percussion frog thingys. they're really cute and neat. you take this stick and rub it across the ridges of the frog's back, from the bottom to the top, and it makes a noise like a frog croaking. sooo supercool. if you're ever chez moi i'll more than happily demonstrate it for you.

after our adventure at descanso gardens we decided to sit under some trees at the plane on a stick park. so we did that. then we got kinda hungry. so as soon as the other moe got off work we went to pasadena for some indian food at a restaurant called, akbar. we'd all been there once before. and both had hit and miss meals. they have really good samosas and chicken tikka masala. but some of the vegetarian dishes that we tried were bland or mushy without the benefit of having any flavor apart from hot. the lamb vindaloo was too tangy and the bharta wasn't very good. so if i come back, i'd probably stick with samosas and chicken tikka masala. those are my favorites anyways so i'm happy to have found a place that does these items right.

after dinner we went across the street to the container store where they sell all kinds of - you guessed it - containers! it's such a strange environment. the place is lit up like a 99-cent store, super-ultra-bright. and the shelves are packed with shelves, and boxes, and bins of all shapes and sizes. i bought some hanging clothes bags and assorted crap. why is it i always buy crap?

after dinner, and after witnessing the "before-and-after date rape photography session," we went chez moi to scrutinize and ridicule the olympics. (yeah, i know i do a lot of this but it's sooo damn fun!) it's so easy to do when you see how fucking arrogant some of the american athletes are. and also there's the morrocan who, after winning the gold for some long-distance running event, wanted nothing more than to eat not one, but two, cheeseburgers. then there's the elf-man who took silver in some diving competition. it's such a sad thing that the olympics are closing down. then again, maybe now i'll have more time for my blog.

yes, perhaps it's time to make a little more room in the everyday for this mental entropy and prevent any more of this hapless indirect neglect.

razzafrazza

in playing with my new green mini ipod this morning at work i unintentionally erased all the music i put on it last night.

now i get to start all over.

fun.

or rather, fun!

:)

playing with presents

i finally get to play with my new green mini ipod!!

it's been five days since i've received it and i'm only now filling it up with songs.

but hooray!!

this is gonna be fun.

thanks to penquin for the lovely gift.

hang the dj

you wait three and a half weeks to turn into a dancing machine.
it's your birthday weekend and a night of britpop dancing is definitely in order.
so you roll out to the echo with a few friends in hopes of reliving some blissful past.
you arrive and there's some shit band playing their shit music at painful decibels.
and nowhere on any site is this information shared.
so you wait out back, killing time with a bad drink and a bad pompidour to mock.
and finally the shit band have left the stage.
so you squeeze onto the dance floor and prepare your body for some good abuse.
and you barely move.
and you're hating the music.
and you're not sure what to do because you're torn between wanting to move and wanting to leave.
but you decide to stay and make the best of it.
and the dj can't string two songs together in a pleasing fashion.
and you're beginning to resent the place.
so you go back outside to reminisce about better times.
but you really want to dance.
and it's one hour to closing time.
so you suck it up and dance.
but this time they're spinning your songs.
and this time you're spinning to songs.
and one after another they're trying to make it up to you.
so you dance hard in appreciation.
you dance hard to soaking.
and you're singing along while you go into a crazed frenzy of rhythmic movement.
you think, thank god.
but the release is last minute.
and you leave unsatisfied.
so you vow not to come back.
because there's really no point in waiting for the third saturday of the month to come.
not for this.
not unless you're a lesbian.
then maybe you'd have a good time.

thanks and pulp

i'd like to thank all the common people for coming out on friday to distract me from and to help celebrate the addition of another year to my life with dancing, drinking, and screwing (well, maybe not that last one).

i had such a fucking awesome time (even if i wasn't completely drunk off my ass). it certainly was one of those glory days.

posing as a pissed off yelena and svetlana from the olympic games? you bet your mama.

did i really get a bag of assorted jerkys from a liquor store and a mini ipod as birthday presents? yes, and they were equally thoughtful.

roasting marshmallows in the firepit? sweet!

go-go dancing on wobbly stools? fuck yeah!

mons pubis? did you really just say mons pubis in a sentence??? holy shit! that's wrong.

hot tub at 3:30 in the morning? the water's warm. let's go!

feet of legs? middle finger of love? crotch of judgment? hands of abuse? yes, these and more can be found on the homunculus of ridiculousness.

who knew a box of melba toast could inform you on a "taste for life?" well, for $4.95 it can. just get yourself a large jar of mayonnaise and you're all set.

staying up until the sun comes out? not this time. but 5 am is pretty damn close. this is hardcore.

i love life. and hope we can all party hard again in the year 2000-5.

thanks again to all of you for helping the aged.

sullying the cement

my, my, my. i'm 29 today. you'd think i'd learn how to act my age by now. wear sensbile shoes to work, be a little more modest with my style, learn to think before i let all the inappropriate things that swirl around in my head spew in messy puddles before other people's feet, go to bed at a decent hour so i can start the cycle of work, eat, sleep all over again. but not so. not completely at least.

i'm 29 and have decided that birthday weeks are not the time to set this all in place. and i, for one, would like to sully the cement with one more imprint from these hayride sandals before my life turns impermanent as stone. and so, as a treat to myself, i have used the days leading up to 29 to mark a moment of rebellion, a swish of a finger in wet grey. a little "e" slashed in the sidewalk of life, zorro-style.

me and blogger

we're 24 years apart.

check it out:

Blogger News

Happy Birthday Blogger
Five years ago today, Blogger was launched. W00t!
To celebrate, we went out for lunch.

happy birthday to us. :)

8 fucking 23!!!

oh happy day!! happiest of all days!!!

yes, my lovelies today is my birthday. normally i would be all grumbly and stressed out from turning another year older. but i've come to appreciate my age.

i'm older (ack!) and wiser (ummmm), so this means i will graciously accept the things i cannot change.

besides, at least i'm not fucking 30 yet!!

thursday review

the night before almost killed my spirit, so i was determined not to start my birthday weekend in a foul mood. it was time to shake off the sullen shroud of despair and let the sunshine of a new day glow inside me. it must have touched the work peeps, too, because they were less frazzled even if they were still reeling.

the room turned light with laughter as MPP narrated a fascinating fabrication on the flight of the "panda owl." it's all too lame to explain here. but it was some funny shit. this guy can talk bullshit like nobody else. i don't know where it comes from. but it's crazy brilliant.

then we made fun of smarty going crazy. and then all was right in the world.

poker was a bust. i came in with a good feeling. i watched a few minutes of poker on tv to satisfy my superstition but ended up being down for the night. ah well.

it was thursday and my weekend was underway. no use worrying about it now.

worn down and out

you, you wear me down my defenses are gone now....

i'm exhausted folks. work is wearing me down. and i realized last night i don't have enough "angry" music in my itunes library. gotta rectify that.

on top of that i haven't had time to think about a party i'm throwing tomorrow night.

ugh.

i need a good long nap.

and a drink.

hopefully i can forget about all of this.

i need a break.

olympic fever?

watching the olympics this year has been sorely disappointing. the coverage is too cut up, shifting from one event to another too frequently. the scheduling makes it a little hard to follow the sports that you're really into, and there are far fewer athlete profiles to make olympics heckling a sport of its own.

last night i hung out with "bard" to try and relive the hilarity of the sydney games. but we were hard-pressed to find any new material. don't get me wrong, we were idiots about the women's team gymnastics, but the best that we could muster was bitching about the constant catcalls by the american teammates to "come on!" god, it was annoying! see, this is why i hate girls. they just won't shut up! if your teammate is on the balance beam, trying to concentrate on a difficult tumbling pass, why in the world would you yell at the top of your lungs "come on!"?? you're going to fuck her up with all that hollering. and then why would you keep doing it for no god damned reason? i seriously wanted to choke a bitch, it got so annoying.

then there was the "diversity" athlete to poke fun at. there was a black girl on the US team (and the ukrainian team! wtf?!) whose role we just could not fathom. we'd see her hugging her teammates, but for most of the event rotations she was missing. so we thought maybe she was there for moral support. you know, to say things like "that's ok baby, you did your best" or "you go, girl!" or maybe she was just there for show. i think we eventually did see her do a vault which might have been mediocre. but the black girl on the ukrainian team was nowhere to be seen. so we guessed (prepare yourself for a horrible joke) that maybe she was the porter and just carried the other girls' bags from one station to the next. yeah i know. that's bad. but when bard and i get together these are the jokes that are made.

the russian team didn't let us down too much. they did manage to get us a yelena and svetlana. but the irina was on a different team, so no triple threat or trifecta to be had. svetlana is the diva bitch with the walking stick body on the russian team. last games she ripped off her medal during the ceremony because she was pissed off at their place standing. and it was comforting to see that that spunk and fire from sydney had not waned. she was still the pursed-lipped ice queen of gymnastics. and what i especially love about svetlana is that you can always count on her to be ridiculously emotional and super-competitive. if she thought she did well, was pleased with herself, she would run to her teammates and allow them to give her kisses. if she bobbled on the event, or wasn't satisfied with what she did, she would brush by all of them and not allow anyone to touch her. and she'd scowl with daggers for eyes until she was up next. heh. crazy bitch.

yeah. i don't think i've caught the olympic fever this time around. and from the looks of the event venues neither has the rest of the world. but at least i was able to get my sick fun in at its expense.

blue monday

I see a ship in the harbor
I can and shall obey
But if it wasn't for your misfortunes
I'd be a heavenly person today

so today goes.

today was my first day back for a real day at work. and it couldn't have been crazier. i got to be the bearer of bad news in the morning; and that set the tone for how the rest of my day was going to turn out.

i unwillingly dealt a body blow to smarty when i recounted all the critiques all his hard work garnered. i knew that he'd already had a shit night, but as it was my job to report what was said at the morning meeting, there was little i could do to sugar-coat the disappointment people were feeling. the problem is that sometimes constructive criticism feels like personal attack, even when it shouldn't. and so you feel directly responsible for someone's insides being scattered on the sidewalk.

usually i'm able to snap him out of it. given some time to breathe and take a step back to see things as they really are, he comes around and realizes things are never as bad as they first seem. but he wouldn't hear anything i had to say. which always worries me because this usually means that the room will be filled with crunchiness. so i tried to stay out of his way, to let him approach me when he needed. but it was all very distant. as a result, i felt so ill that all i could stomach or keep down for lunch was a piece of french bread with brie, and some fruit.

then we had another meeting. and this managed to make things a lot worse. the thing about not having the singular voice to rule and overrule is that decisions are then made by committee. and every person with their bad ideas chimes in with how things should go. and so now there's no direction, and you don't know who you're supposed to listen to. and really, it should be your voice they listen to if only you'd speak up and fight. but when you've been beaten down for so long, you get exhausted. and then people look at you and say that you look like you've lost the will to live. which i think today, was the case for him.

to top it off, smarty's pet frog might be fighting his own losing battle. i came in this morning and the poor thing's leg was stuck in the air filter. at first i thought it was dead. he was kinda just dangling there limp as a rag doll. so i nudged it with a pen and saw that he kicked back. so i tried to free him, taking care not to mangle his limbs. but every time i got it free he'd get sucked right back into the filter. and then he'd float upside down. or else his legs would twist and turn and start to braid. so i eventually had to put him in a separate container, give him time to recuperate.

and then, of course, what was supposed to be a heavy workload turned into massively monstrous heap. there were five million things to complete, which meant five million things to repeat. so i stayed a bit longer than my normal hours to keep the sanity, which i'm happy to do if it helps. but honestly, this is not how you should start the week.

i sure as hell hope i don't have any more days like these blue mondays.

sunday, sunday

sunday, sunday here again in tidy attire...

yesterday i took the day off work to attend the wedding of a former co-worker friend of penquin's. it was a strange but nice affair. it took the couple ten years to get that point. and they are a great couple. and they looked absolutely radiant standing at the altar. but it was also a funny wedding.

the father of the bride is a well-known musician/singer. and i guess he had connections to have gotten a pretty good jazz band together to play the wedding ceremony. they were very professional and their instruments swelled the forest with brass and smooth sounds. the band had quite some time to kill as the wedding did not start on time. in fact, they were an hour behind schedule. maybe they were on "CP" time or something. heh. anyways, the band sounded great playing jazz standards.

then the ceremony begins. and as the wedding party make their entrance, the jazz band strikes up "here comes the bride." now maybe they were brought in to play at the last minute and weren't given proper bridal party music, or maybe they didn't know how tradition works, but "here comes the bride" is usually reserved for - the bride. this band, however, played the song for the entirety of the wedding party arrival. what was worse was that they apparently didn't know how the tune went. in short, they fell to pieces. and it sounded like a junior high jazz band - a dissonant, jumbled, jazzy mess with each instrument guessing at the melody. it wouldn't have been so bad, but we were made to listen to this for a good 15 minutes. i don't know how many times i wanted to crack up laughing. but then i would have been seen as rude. oh, if you could only have heard the ruckus!

during the reception the father of the bride sang a soulfully beautiful version of "my girl" to his daughter. the crowd roared it's approval and begged him to sing another song. which he obliged. it was an incredible treat to hear.

then it was on to the dance portion of the evening. and man, did penquin and i stick out like left feet. (i like mixing up my sayings.) it's not that i wouldn't have been able to hold my own with some funky dancing, but i cannot grind or pop-lock, or booty shake like some of these other folk could. so we saved ourselves the embarrassment of getting our feeble attempts at busting moves documented on camera, and thus being used in information videos on "how not to get your groove on amongst people of more color."

still, it was a charming wedding. even if we didn't really know anybody there. it allowed us the opportunity to get all gussied up, dressed to the nines, and step out in style. and that's worth hearing "here comes the bride" get butchered alive for a short while.

funny story

my penquin and i were on the back porch with whiskey when we hear a voice at our door. it's about 10:30 in the evening and we can't think who'd be calling on us at this hour. maybe it was a neighbor come to tell us that our car lights were on, or maybe they needed to borrow a cup of sugar (does that even happen anymore?) for a visitor who was having an insulin attack.

so penquin goes to the door to see who it is. i hear "is this where 'eight23' lives?" i hear penquin answer, he calls me over. i walk through the house to the front door, and standing there bewildered is a co-worker friend of mine. i look at him and start to laugh. he starts turning red in embarrassment. and we crack up as the slow realization comes "your party's not until next week, is it?"

heh

burying the blame

i thought i had green thumbs. i fancied myself a tender caretaker; that i could take this darling bud to bloom. and so with hands both tiny and bare, i dug into the hard earth; scraping at soil until the rims of my nails were done-in with dirt. i wrestled with weeds and plucked the bugs and slugs from the ground. i shoveled away splintered sticks and sharp stones to prepare a place safe enough for a garden patch. and once it finally took root, i was overjoyed beyond measure. and my heart suffused with secret pleasure.

and so the days passed in eternal sunshine.

then one day the vines grew wild with thorny thoughts. and i sought to prune them with small shears; but in my bumbling lopped off in onerous chop the vein that fed the happy stalk. and by-the-by the flowering bud shut to shield itself from my withering touch. tangles of brambles shot up to obstruct my pursuit. and i felt like eve cast out of the garden for foolish mistake.

surrounded now by a wall of weeds, i thought upon a technique i once saw on television whereby you set the forest on fire and allow the flames to devour the entire plot. desperate, i lit a match to the lawn and stood back to watch, hoping this bold measure would pay off and clear the land (when really it was the air that needed clearing). but the smoke and embers were too hotly stoked and my eyes began to water.

fearful that i had done more damage than good, i fell to my knees in desolate response. and with downcast eyes sprinkled salty showers to flood the garden path. i wept a deluge for my sins to be forgiven. rained until my knees became bloody and raw.

and then i imagined an arc across your lips, a covenant smile like a sign to restore all the good that came before.

i'll be the first to admit it - i'm no good with mother nature. and i feel waist deep into manure at this point. but what i would like more than anything right now is to bury the blame and start again from seed.

8-13

friday the thirteenth, eh? maybe that's the reason for such a shit day. just bad luck. stupid misunderstandings at work that make you crunchy with people all day. or most of the day.

can this still apply?: TGIF

maybe thank god it's the weekend (TGITW) is more appropriate.

kissing away summer

my neck should be thrashed by the whiplash attack that time has assaulted me with. i've been rolling along happily, lazily, for three months and suddenly i am yanked to a halt. and my head is twisted back even as my body wants to stay its frolicking foray of freedom.

and i can't believe my summer is coming to a close and that the wheel and gears are starting up again. the torment of time.

in an attempt to slow the machinery, and as a toast to the death of our mostly happy rest, the graphics peeps (sans "silent kid") and i went out to the cat and the fiddle for some good old-fashioned boozing. or rather, we had a few beers. it was supposed to be a night of sloppy singing and comedic crooning but one by one our other revelers dropped from our ranks, and so we were left with nothing else to do but drink the sorrow away.

we ran into "stale cookie," a former C1 employee who worked in my department when i started. and i was surprised that he didn't try to cover and hide or shy away with shifty eyes. he was actually very pleasant and hung out with us for an hour or so shooting the shit. he's gotten so big in the design world that his funny story that he wanted to share involved hanging out with fabrizio from the strokes and being drew barrymore's pictionary partner and then swimming until 5 in the morning. wow.

then we called MPP at his other work to come join us, which he eventually (maybe begrudgingly) did. and at first it was weird cause he seemed annoyed to have gotten dragged into spending more time with coworkers. but that soon faded and we all joked around about the cause for hungry hungry's alleged "rieage," MPP's mixing of various household and office cleaning agents into unsavory cocktails, and mr. o'fox's run-in with the wrong-side-of-the-tracks vermin of NYC.

we even got a little karaoke time in on the way back to work. we were all shouting along to van halen's "hot for teacher."

heh

it was the perfect way to kiss the summer away.

i'm a chinaberry girl in a chinaberry world or what the chinaberry tree told me

if you could see me whole, look beyond the superficial, and disregard what you might have heard or think you know of me, you might find beauty corrupted by nature and perhaps be moved by pity to adore me. for i am lovely even as i am the death of you, and therefore doomed to unwilling poisonous ways.

stretching far and wide, beyond all claims of ownership, i reach out with trembling fingertips. but my presence is often unwelcome. and before i have planted myself into a safe spot there are a million grabbing hands ready to pull me up.

it is true, i was not always invasive. but i knew to adapt. i have made myself resistant and strong to survive. i was educated by nature and rewarded with tolerance. and so my roots burrow deep, entrench themselves with sturdy grip. and i'll wrap you in a stranglehold despite attempts to love with light embrace.

spring i'm full to bursting with deadly grace. i will fan out long serrated leaves like knives to shield you from the tears of the world and shade you from the intensity of a mocking sun. i would protect you from any element of harm that god could muster. all the while i'll worry that shadows and light will betray me, reflect a plot to pierce you through your open heart or else sever sense from your saintly head.

the summer months bloom with worry, and hang heavy with dangerous possibility. for i am forbidden fruit. and i know it is my folly and shame to be ripe with deadly poison. but to consume is to be consumed. it begins with sweaty palms, turns to tingling feet, and soon you're sick with despair, made weak with repression. and there's no cure or antidote yet available to turn you from this disgrace.

autumn and a fall from grace.

winter winds whip me bare of pretty affectations, disrobe me as if in punishment, and reveals my bleaker side. the bitter poison clinging to my bones in clusters serve as cunning reminders, and they say: "you are but withered happiness." so suffering through the humiliation of being laid out bare, i am destined to wear stars of sorrow. purple flowers in tangled crowns with light fragrance to entice new love in deadly seduction.

yes, i am beauty corrupted by nature. and perhaps you will be moved by pity to adore me. for i am lovely even as i am the death of you, and therefore doomed to unwilling poisonous ways.

my plan for (against?) procrastination pt. 2

you should be very proud of me. i am. not only did i manage to get what i wanted done, but i did it in record time. and really, it's kind of like cheating because i didn't even bother with the plan i devised this morning. i pretty much completed my task after posting the first part of this blog entry.

i was motivated by the ridiculousness of having written a blog entry about procrastinating when i could have been researching, filling out forms and completing the not terribly important task. blogging was just another way to procrastinate.

and i'm through with procrastinating.

at least for the meantime.

my plan for (against?) procrastination

i have these moments in my life where i know i should be going forward, making progress at something, anything, but am stunned midstride. i'm trying to recover from paralysis. really. truly. you might even say that this blog has been a good start on one of those something, anythings that i should be moving forward with. it's just that i am such a damned procrastinator. it doesn't have to be done immediately, right? i'm sure whenever i get to it will be ok. afterall, it doesn't affect anyone else.

what i haven't gotten is that it affects me. that i am the root cause for all this stationary static. and the sole recipient of all the shortfalls. and shouldn't that really be the only thing that matters?

so now i'm beginning to feel those first signs of panic. and it's not even over something too terribly important. but i know if i don't get to it today the anxiety will crescendo and then i'll feel completely overwhelmed and then i'll be even more resistant to tackle it because now it's just getting too big for me to deal with at this minute. and so maybe another day will pass. and another. and now i've left myself with last minute time frames. mother fuck.

so i need a plan. a deadline. some structure.

1. i will research my task. sort through all the information i need to complete task. this should take place this morning after coffee.

2. i will act upon this information. whatever forms i need to fill out will be submitted before lunch time.

3. i will wrap up loose ends; double and triple checking that i've done what i need to do. and then stop worrying about it. to be completed by day's end.

ok. so what i gotta keep in mind is that i am not allowed to find excuses for not doing this simple task. no, it won't be ok if i just pop over to amoeba to see if there's anything worth listening to. no, i really can't spend 3 hours reading my book after lunch so that i may digest my meal comfortably. and no, i shouldn't take an hour power nap an hour before i go home.

but watch, something beyond my control will screw the plan up. the deadline will keep getting pushed back. the structure will collapse or show signs of distress. this may not happen. christ, what if i have to work?!

i'll let you know how this goes...

seeing my crazy in other people's writing

so i'm reading this book called the curious incident of the dog in the night-time by mark haddon. basically it's about this autistic boy who investigates the murder of a neighbor's dog. really, it's about this boy's quirks, how he sees the world and the people who inhabit it, and his place in it. it's simply written and i'm only 50 pages into it, but it's so human. i find myself responding to a lot of the boy's "crazy" and dysfunciton. (i think i'm going to stop here about the book in case you want to read it for yourself)

but here's a little sample of what i like about it:

Prime numbers are what is left when you have taken all the patterns away. I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them.

the kid has worked his affinity for numbers into something that makes sense to him. i don't have the same number dysfunction as he does; i don't add up the letters in people's names and find their prime numbers; but i do like to make numbers make sense for me.

take 8-23 for instance. besides being a magic day (birthday) it's magic because 8 equals 2 to the 3rd power. or 8 = 2 cubed. this also has meaning because i am the second of three children.

and for whatever reason (craziness) i like to look at the clock at this time. sometimes it happens by accident (fate), sometimes i sit there and wait for it. but seeing this number on the clock makes me feel good, like nothing can go wrong. it provides an artificial sanctuary, a safety in numbers, if you will.

wedding day had similar crazy going on for it. at first i thought it'd be really cool to get married on march 21. that way it would be written like this 3-21-00. see? three, two, one, zero. but it turned out to be a monday or tuesday or something. and march can sometimes provide unfortunate weather. and i was leaning more towards a may wedding anyways. what i ended up with, mostly by accident, but made auspicious by closer examination, was may fourteen. 5-14. 5-1=4. 5-1-4=0.

right.

anyways, it's fun to read a book and see bits of yourself embedded in it. like an accidental discovery. like seeing your life written between its invisible lines. like seeing your crazy in other people's writing.

remember when buying concert tickets was an event?

you'd find out when tickets went on sale and then travel to your nearest ticketbastard location to procure a coveted space in line. or if you were crafty enough to think it, you went to a location where you knew there wasn't going to be much of a following of the band, thereby securing said coveted space.

once you'd figured out which ticketbastard to hit you'd arrive a couple hours early if they were handing out wristbands. sometimes you'd even camp out the night before so that you were first in line and prove to all the "poseurs" that you're a hardcore fan.* however the strategy failed you if the ticketbastard location sold their tickets "raffle style." this meant each person in line got a random wristband with a number on it, the ticketbastards would call out a number, and the patron with the matching numbered wristband was served first; with the numbers following in sequential order. which meant (and i've seen a lot of people get pissed off by this system) that even if you camped out all night or got there extra hours early you weren't guaranteed anything. in fact, if you happened to get a wristband number that came before the winning number, you were generally shit out of luck because most likely the show would be sold out by the time the numbers wrapped back around to yours.

>>the solution to this: get as many people you know who will go with you to buy tickets. this way, you're giving yourself more options, more chances to get served (and i'm not talking street dance either.... although that might be fun(ny.))

so you've brought a couple, maybe a bunch, of people with you. and now you're sitting/standing/crouching in line with your friends and fellow fans, and even some scalpers, talking about how excited you are to see whatever band you're supporting. it gets to be a communal thing. you talk about past shows you've seen by the band, the latest album and how it compares to the rest of their library. then there's that collective hope that someone competent enough will be behind the desk to run the ticket machine so that it is constantly spitting them out. oh, and you hope the cash register and/or credit card machines don't go on the blink, slowing up the process and frustrating the other people in line who have yet to get tickets.

but if you are lucky enough to even get tickets, you'd hope the seats were in a great to decent section of the venue, and worth the $30 plus $10 in service fees that they cost (which seems to be the case less and less).

nowadays buying concert tickets is a singular process; and really, not as much fun. you get up a few minutes before tickets go on sale. you start up your computer, go to the ticketbastard website and wait. there's generally no one waiting with you to complain to. but there's plenty to complain about.

the website refuses to load. or it takes forever to do so because it's being bombarded by all the other friends, fans, scalpers, competitors out there. and you're trying to go through the motions of ordering tickets, guessing at things because the pictures haven't loaded completely. and at first, you're stoked because you've gotten through at all, and now you're in line to get really awesome seats. so you've got three minutes to complete all the information they need to process your ticket request. and this would be soooo much easier if you could find the button that asks if you want to log in to your ticketbastard account which already holds all this information for you. and so you fill out the request as best you can. but they've added some extra feature. you've now got to include your credit card id number or something. and you're not sure what this is because the stupid fucking website hasn't loaded it's images yet. and so giving it your best shot, you hit enter. you've entered the wrong credit card id number. you try something. you've entered the wrong credit card id number. YES! I UNDERSTAND! BUT I CAN'T FUCKING GIVE YOU THE CORRECT CREDIT CARD ID NUMBER BECAUSE YOUR WEBSITE STILL HASN'T LOADED THE IMAGES AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE THESE NUMBERS ARE!

so after four attempts and some other bullshit things that have gone wrong, you finally fill out all the info as requested and hit enter again. "you've exceeded the allowed time limit and the tickets are being released."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

yeah, so i did, at one point this morning, have eight pretty awesome seats to see the pixies at the greek theater on thursday september 23rd. i ended up with eight ok seats (north terrace, row N, seats 19-33) to see them same night, same time. but there was nobody to bitch to. except penquin and poor whiskey who got scared because i was yelling at the computer, cursing out ticketbastard for making me lose the eight pretty awesome seats.

this was made up to me because i also got four tickets (sec B, row L, seats 122-128) to see them on wednesday night.

so i may, depending on some of you people out there, try to sell the "ok" seats on ebay or something.

yeah. i guess buying concert tickets is still an event. it still has it's problems. it's still having to deal (a lot of the time) with the ticketbastards. it's still got that sense of uncertainty (not to be confused with the certainty that you are getting shafted on ticket prices). it's an event that, in this day and age, i can bitch to you about over this blog instead of having you by my side to hear, or calling you up on the phone to tell, or waiting until our next encounter to recount in detail complete with crazy visuals of me getting all pissed off over losing the eight pretty awesome seats. grrrrrrrrr.

anyways, it's time to be satisfied. i get to see a bunch of forty-something rockers bust out the hits at a nice venue, in the open air, with the rest of the friends, fans, and scalpers of yesteryear.

hopefully this will all have been worth it.




*i have never camped out for tickets

when the stars align

every once in a while, less frequent than a blue moon maybe, the stars align themselves in echo effect and double every happiness. today is one of those days.

here's what i got out of it:

* good coffee in the kitchen even though i didn't personally brew it

* got sorted into gryffindor house

* cat was kind enough to help me untangle a daunting itunes mess (it took a good hour to set things right again. but it was fine because it allowed cat to hang out for old time's sake)

* had a lovely lunch at "terrorist sushi" (amazing food, wonderful company and conversation, consumed alcohol, provided an extra long break from work)

* managed to not get in "trouble" with smarty or MPP over something stupid (basically i had to lie about lunch. if they found out where i went i would have gotten stink eye)

* found out today was a company sanctioned "leave early day" (which meant that after an hour of being back from lunch i was allowed to go home)

* had time to head over to wacko after "work" to do a little browsing (didn't purchase anything. but will probably be back tomorrow)

* light traffic allowed me to take the scenic route home through griffith park at a leisurely pace

* feasted at a brazilian restaurant that my penquin and i have never been to before. yay! was wonderful except for indifferent waiter (yeah. a day of complete food decadence)
[note to self: must go to the gym tomorrow]

yes, i was blessed with serendipity and kismet beyond belief today. and i'm thanking my lucky stars for it.

what the hell am i doing here?

lookie

this should impress the shit out of you.

musical mindfuck

holy shit, this is brilliant!

shatner and ben folds doing a cover of pulp's "common people."

so fucking random it's genius.

striking out at electric lotus

oh how i do love indian food. except when it's indian food that evokes nights out at the ball game.

some of you know exactly what i'm talking about. you order chicken tikka masala, a standard dish, expecting that familiar combination of spices to work its seduction in your head, in your mouth. indeed, you've been craving the cascade of flavor the entire day only to be swept away by disappointment and jettisoned off the edge of regret.

i don't know if it's from inferior cuts of meat, something gone wrong during preparation of the sauce, or what, but chicken tikka masala should in no way whatsoever remind you of -- hot dogs. otherwise slap that slop onto a bun, serve it up at a cleveland vs. l.a. night and call it gourmet fusion gone wrong. cause it sure ain't what i wanted. which is a pity because the other times i've gone to electric lotus it's hit the spot. it's never knocked one out of the park, but it could certainly be counted on for a single or ground rule double.

the saving grace is that the music is generally up to snuff. not much solace, i know. afterall, i didn't come to feed on the tunes, tasty as they were.

ah well...

the other nice thing was that i didn't have to pay. MPP was nice enough to treat everyone to lunch. now that's taking one for the team.

the widow's lament

i pass the lonely evenings in circular dance
creating hexagonal test patterns in mid-air
spinning safety in rotation
to make a lightweight lair
the silken promise of a trap
for iridescent trails like hands to wrap
ribbons around your stolen heart
something not invisible
but tangible as a tangle or a snare
an expanse of breath that's softly stretched
to catch you unawares

a twitch ripples along fine filament
interrupts my obsessive reps
halts my coda choreography
stops my sorrow's steps
my soul tingles anew with whispered prayers
so that patience begets reverence
and as you tremble against light-tuned strings
my heart's dirge pulses a faster pace
as helpless, hopeless, shameless
you turn up a faded face
my poison kiss comes swiftly
bringing desire as it stings
an arresting spell it stuns your stare
clips and ravishes your wings
and i'll hold you fast in silver sinew
to keep you stationed there

but this tango it is mirthless
and doomed to false embrace
the tasteful zeal of sex appeal -
a shadowed specter to erase
my violent nature will presume you are something to consume
the widow's song grows louder now as it's playing on the loom
but i'll remember you with fond regard
my partner in deadly dance
as prisoner to passion
and fodder to romance

good song...

great video.

was listening to this from a compilation i made a while back (see love and itunes) and was reminded of how much i loved its silly melancholy. i guess i'm a sucker for romeo and juliet stories played out in illustration.

new look

so i've decided to change the look of the blog by selecting a different template.

the other was ok but it was starting to remind me of my cell phone waaaaaay too much.

this new look is ... well, it's more subtle. more delicate. maybe a little more, dare i say it, girlie.

heh

anyways, what do you think? shall i keep this?

i must say i like the color palette. even if it is a bit difficult to read.

keeping perfect time

i'm out of synch.

my head was up and ready to go well before the rest of me was. i thought exercise was supposed to help regulate your sleep pattern; adjust your body's clock to want energy and sleep when it most needs it. but i find that it's just made me more lazy than before. a regular LBJ or "lazy bones jones" in the morning.

i hid my head under the covers, cowering from whatever morning light was able to seep through the blinds of my bedroom window. usually darkness is enough to coax me back into restful slumber. but my mind wasn't having it. so it decided to make my legs itchy. now that's a dirty trick to play on someone. if i wasn't going to get up voluntarily, i was sure going to snap out of it enough to relieve the prickly feeling on my skin. i cheated and scratched halfway by rubbing my legs together cricket style. i get a sick little pleasure from this creature pretend, but the motion made me kick the blankets off.

maybe if i wrap myself tightly in the covers, swaddle myself into a comfy cocoon, i'd get more minutes in bed. but that triggers the ebb and flow between hot and cold and the incapacity to reach a happy medium, a porridge and bed that's just right. now i get poor goldilocks' shit luck.

so i try to tire out my brain. quick! think of that story you want to write about, the one about accidents, responsibility, and fate colliding. where do i go after they first meet? what kind of lives are they going to lead in the seven years between their next encounter? how is she going to cope with the guilt when she realizes who she's reconnected with? and how is he going to react to this love that destroyed his old life? question and answer, and always without answer. now mind is alert and frustrated.

there was nothing left to do except accept the inevitable. time to shake the sand from my eyes. time to grumble and stumble and mutter and stutter.

open my eyes, turn to the clock and find a sign to signal something good.

open my eyes and time stopped still for me to smile.

open my eyes and i'm keeping perfect time -

8:23

celebrity sighting

oh yeah - forgot to mention that i saw vince vaughn at lunch. he's a tall dude.

go take a hike

hikes seem to be very popular nowadays amongst the people i run with. it's good exercise, you get to enjoy nature, and it offers a nice sense of accomplishment.

i went on a hike this weekend with my penquin and whiskey. we started out around 11. it was kinda warm but there was a decent breeze. it wasn't a terribly difficult or long hike either - no death march through the desert - but whiskey was showing signs of fatigue. and since he's an old boy now i didn't want a near-dead dog to have to trek down the mountain with. next time i leave the dog at home.

i had gone up the same trail once before. it led to an entrance to the angelus crest forest or something. but as i had already been travelling for two and a half hours, and as it was starting to get late, i didn't actually venture far into the forest. from the looks of it it would have been pretty neat. there are pine trees rising up from the dirt and shrubbery. you can collect the pine cones and play hand grenades with them. i especially like forest floors. forest floors are cushioned with fallen pine needles and bits of bark. and it feels right under foot. soft and springy. you bounce like walking on the moon.

if only i could start my hike at the entrance of the forest and didn't have to monkey around with winding around the mounatin a bunch of times first to get there. i would have fresher legs on me to tackle the forest and more energy to explore deeper.

i really should pick up a book on some good day-hikes. i want to make it more of a habit. maybe try to go somewhere every week.

so next time someone tells me to take hike, i just may take their advice.