Friday, January 16, 2004
She-porn
I think it is only appropriate that my LP megamix single of Madonna's "Justify My Love" is playing as I burn all of this material to CD. You know who I'm talking to.
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Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Spalding Gray
...is missing!
Such timing, too, seeing as Brady and I watched "Gray's Anatomy" last night.
Poor Spalding. He's just so, I don't know... he seems so frail. So sensitive and wispy, so self-contained of thought yet co-dependant of body.
After having seen the movie/monologue from last night, I'm guessing that Mr. Gray chsoe to embark on another of his unpredictable-yet-material-rich jaunts with strangers in New York City. Perhaps he had some encounter with a carload of hasidem again and, uh, wasn't so lucky as to just have to rake some leaves for ten dollars. Or maybe he went to another nutritional opthamologist and, this time, he wasn't allowed to leave without megadosing LSD.
Maybe his formerly eschewed obsessive-compulsion to perform actions in one-two-threes has taken hold of his mind and he just can't manage the complexity and disorder of the city. An interesting thought, isn't it, that Spalding Gray might be, at this moment, an entertainingly mad transient in Manhattan, unshaven and in soiled costume.
Maybe he'll write a monologue about it. Here's to you, Spalding: hope you're safe.
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Such timing, too, seeing as Brady and I watched "Gray's Anatomy" last night.
Poor Spalding. He's just so, I don't know... he seems so frail. So sensitive and wispy, so self-contained of thought yet co-dependant of body.
After having seen the movie/monologue from last night, I'm guessing that Mr. Gray chsoe to embark on another of his unpredictable-yet-material-rich jaunts with strangers in New York City. Perhaps he had some encounter with a carload of hasidem again and, uh, wasn't so lucky as to just have to rake some leaves for ten dollars. Or maybe he went to another nutritional opthamologist and, this time, he wasn't allowed to leave without megadosing LSD.
Maybe his formerly eschewed obsessive-compulsion to perform actions in one-two-threes has taken hold of his mind and he just can't manage the complexity and disorder of the city. An interesting thought, isn't it, that Spalding Gray might be, at this moment, an entertainingly mad transient in Manhattan, unshaven and in soiled costume.
Maybe he'll write a monologue about it. Here's to you, Spalding: hope you're safe.
Monday, January 12, 2004
Diffuse weekend
Quite a bit has happened during the past several days. Unfortunately not much of it reads well, but what the hell.
Firstly, Steven has pointed out that I've abandoned anonymity. I should have addressed this earlier, actually, so I'm glad he mentioned it. When I started writing here it wasn't with the intent of having a running narrative full of characters and events that keep getting referenced in later material. I thought this would be much more free form without so much emphasis on continuity, but it has turned out differently. My posts now follow a pattern in which I reference information from all over the place, and I find that it's just way too cumbersome to deal with the abbreviations and such that I've assigned to everyone. Besides, who am I kidding? In abbreviating people's name's I'm actively suggesting that thousands of people keep track of this material... which is sooo not the case. So that's that, no more anonymity.
On a good note, the IRS hilarity boiling around me is not as excruciatingly bad as I had expected. Granted, I've had to rescind my FAFSA and my student aid status is likely going to go into the toilet as a result of all of this, but I'm not going to have to pay any exorbitant fees or anything (knock on wood). Everything's in order, all of my tax documents (and the paperwork to back it up) were simple to pull together, and my investigator is very timely and easily reachable. Plus his last name is Anchower, so I'm hoping he might be of a similar comportment to my other, favorite Anchower.
Thirdly, Megan and I are pissed. Our Friday spot has apparently lost all fabulousness. The bartender adonis is gone (farewell, Cap'n Morgan), our bar seat was totally invaded by an irritating crowd that wouldn't budge, and we got placed at the ass table near the entrance. Note to restaurant: your door table is the most boring table in the house. There is absolutely nothing to watch, save the candle on the table and the wooden barricade that's been set up to, we guess, keep people from looking at the hostess. Elimante it (the table, not the hostess). There are saving graces that will keep us coming back for a few more tries, but we're both bearing the sad task of continuing the search for a regular spot.
Steven got me a badass book, The Pythons Autobiography by the Pythons. I got about 200 pages through it in the first day of having it. Poor Graham Chapman.
In a dorky way, last night was beautiful. The moon was high and bright early in the evening, sheparding Venus nearby. Topping the scene was a great faint 22° halo around the moon, a telltale sign of tiny ice crystals flitting about high in the atmosphere. The gauzy haze also cast a diffuse glow around the moon and Venus, presenting me with an amazing view for my midnight drive back into Gravel Ridge.
Lastly, I had forgotten how much of a terror a university can be during the first few weeks around registration (and also how easily and contagiously tension conducts through telephone lines). I hope I wasn't as much of an ignorant burden when I was a student as some of the people I'm seeing these days. And no, even if your friend said you could, you can not skip your bachelors degree and go straight for a masters.
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Firstly, Steven has pointed out that I've abandoned anonymity. I should have addressed this earlier, actually, so I'm glad he mentioned it. When I started writing here it wasn't with the intent of having a running narrative full of characters and events that keep getting referenced in later material. I thought this would be much more free form without so much emphasis on continuity, but it has turned out differently. My posts now follow a pattern in which I reference information from all over the place, and I find that it's just way too cumbersome to deal with the abbreviations and such that I've assigned to everyone. Besides, who am I kidding? In abbreviating people's name's I'm actively suggesting that thousands of people keep track of this material... which is sooo not the case. So that's that, no more anonymity.
On a good note, the IRS hilarity boiling around me is not as excruciatingly bad as I had expected. Granted, I've had to rescind my FAFSA and my student aid status is likely going to go into the toilet as a result of all of this, but I'm not going to have to pay any exorbitant fees or anything (knock on wood). Everything's in order, all of my tax documents (and the paperwork to back it up) were simple to pull together, and my investigator is very timely and easily reachable. Plus his last name is Anchower, so I'm hoping he might be of a similar comportment to my other, favorite Anchower.
Thirdly, Megan and I are pissed. Our Friday spot has apparently lost all fabulousness. The bartender adonis is gone (farewell, Cap'n Morgan), our bar seat was totally invaded by an irritating crowd that wouldn't budge, and we got placed at the ass table near the entrance. Note to restaurant: your door table is the most boring table in the house. There is absolutely nothing to watch, save the candle on the table and the wooden barricade that's been set up to, we guess, keep people from looking at the hostess. Elimante it (the table, not the hostess). There are saving graces that will keep us coming back for a few more tries, but we're both bearing the sad task of continuing the search for a regular spot.
Steven got me a badass book, The Pythons Autobiography by the Pythons. I got about 200 pages through it in the first day of having it. Poor Graham Chapman.
In a dorky way, last night was beautiful. The moon was high and bright early in the evening, sheparding Venus nearby. Topping the scene was a great faint 22° halo around the moon, a telltale sign of tiny ice crystals flitting about high in the atmosphere. The gauzy haze also cast a diffuse glow around the moon and Venus, presenting me with an amazing view for my midnight drive back into Gravel Ridge.
Lastly, I had forgotten how much of a terror a university can be during the first few weeks around registration (and also how easily and contagiously tension conducts through telephone lines). I hope I wasn't as much of an ignorant burden when I was a student as some of the people I'm seeing these days. And no, even if your friend said you could, you can not skip your bachelors degree and go straight for a masters.
