Eddying like karma, I flip like Janus between forlorn and forsaken; I'm lonely, I'm alone, I lie peacefully and I am still desiring him, I lie and say I'm over him. Call me Los, lacking the fire to produce change and renew my innocence or my desire. Urizen is my new master, I'm restricted, I'm restrained, I'm redefining what it means to live a solitary life, incomparably isolated.
Life is but a sad possession to those who have attained precisely the degree of moral advancement at which I stand. Were I weaker and blinder it might be happiness. Were I stronger, it might be endured hopefully. But, being what I find myself, methinks I am of all mortals the most fit to die.
(Hawthorne)
January 29, 2004
January 25, 2004
Jordan Catalano Complex
Rocking out with a Napoleonic flourish, brandishing devil fingers and blasting Le Tigre: "My ART is better than your art" but look at how things aren't better off now that I'm gone... and I'm gone. I'm turning Tourettic, a candid cocky boy with a hardcore aura, passive and impermeable, perfectly parvenu. I'm screaming as loud as your last one, obscurely droll and furiously irascible, repressing the loquacious assertions that got my obsession with Edmund Burke REELING. Under this combustible sky I was painted a loose maelstrom with a fierce wish for wanton screaming-- staccato and crimson, I'm killing myself with the alchemy of my song, dancing mass chaos like the bundle of sticks I am. Consider my thing put down, flipped and reversed, I'll make you all my bitches and bone you, my big mouth cocked and loaded to leave you cold cocked.
The world no longer revolves around me so I'm going supernova.
The world no longer revolves around me so I'm going supernova.
January 23, 2004
the ballad of sexual dependency
Visceral, charged, and seething with life should be my new mantra for the week. I want to be Bohemian; I want people to look at me as the artistic aristocrat, the impertinant pert with pertinence surrounding, a rebel besuited in behavior best behooved to David Bowie. Cerebrally august and ridden by a vibrant, awe-inspiring snobbery towards culture, revising history and disdain, acting like a Cubist masterpiece before Picasso came along, giddily intellectual until it hurts others. But instead I'm impossibly lonely, ruthlessly bland and white, basking in the tragedy of now. Maybe I'm just searing, searching for veins, trying to find the life and death and sex and violence and alienation, hoping that I still remember the days no longer abjectly going throught the motions.
"I'm kind of pretty
and pretty damn smart.
I like romantic things like music and art
and, as you know I have a gigantic.... heart
so why don't I have a boyfriend?
FUCK!
It sucks to be me."
"I'm kind of pretty
and pretty damn smart.
I like romantic things like music and art
and, as you know I have a gigantic.... heart
so why don't I have a boyfriend?
FUCK!
It sucks to be me."
January 22, 2004
shocking my monkey
We are all monkeys now, the year of the goat has quietly come and gone while you were asleep last night.
The goat, quiet and artistic, took with it the lives of Elliot Smith, Johnny Cash, Warren Zevon, and countless others, whose quiet reverence barely left a dent on the collective conscience. The serenity of the year, the times spent cuddling while watching tv, writing love-filled poetry, pressing my skin against his, holding his hand, calming myself to the sound of his heartbeat are all things of the past. It was a good year, one where, for the most part, I was the happiest I can remember feeling. I'm quiet and brooding, soft and sensitive, despite my 'kick ass' demeanor, which, while it makes for good poetry, really doesn't suit me well. I liked the goat. I miss the goat already.
Now we're all monkeys, and I can already feel the difference. Monkeys are politicians, with irrational and turbulent ideas, ushered prematurely by the State of the Union address yesterday, false hopes and blatant lies, and will become more evident with the ensuing bitter debate and fight for the presidency. Monkeys are ambivalent-- full of energy and curiosity, they don't have patience to let their creativity and intelligence grow, and instead spend their time like hyperactive bumps on the log. monkey's character is its ambivalence. Plenty of room to mess around, already my roommate is fooling around on his boyfriend, as far as I can tell, and I can't seem to write anymore. Stories and ideas that once seem to roll off of my tongue when preplaning and prewriting in my mind come out sloppy and uneven, unworthy of public posting or even the multiple rewrites needed.
Wood, the element for this year, also will play a big role this year, and not in the sexual way, but in rapid development, lofty idealism and innocence, easily destroyed. Wood monkeys are the worst kind, scatterbrained and disjointed, full of ideas and short on action and despite any optimism for the year, I just don't see it happening.
Monkeys are weak humans, full of pride and false confidence, and it is far to easy to compare them to myself as of late. I am not looking forward to this year, but then again, I am not looking forward to anything now, even though Rats, with their cool heads and keen minds, are supposed to fair well against the chaos of the upcoming year.
Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey, except that I plan on hiding from the monkey, and who knows if I'll emerge again.
The goat, quiet and artistic, took with it the lives of Elliot Smith, Johnny Cash, Warren Zevon, and countless others, whose quiet reverence barely left a dent on the collective conscience. The serenity of the year, the times spent cuddling while watching tv, writing love-filled poetry, pressing my skin against his, holding his hand, calming myself to the sound of his heartbeat are all things of the past. It was a good year, one where, for the most part, I was the happiest I can remember feeling. I'm quiet and brooding, soft and sensitive, despite my 'kick ass' demeanor, which, while it makes for good poetry, really doesn't suit me well. I liked the goat. I miss the goat already.
Now we're all monkeys, and I can already feel the difference. Monkeys are politicians, with irrational and turbulent ideas, ushered prematurely by the State of the Union address yesterday, false hopes and blatant lies, and will become more evident with the ensuing bitter debate and fight for the presidency. Monkeys are ambivalent-- full of energy and curiosity, they don't have patience to let their creativity and intelligence grow, and instead spend their time like hyperactive bumps on the log. monkey's character is its ambivalence. Plenty of room to mess around, already my roommate is fooling around on his boyfriend, as far as I can tell, and I can't seem to write anymore. Stories and ideas that once seem to roll off of my tongue when preplaning and prewriting in my mind come out sloppy and uneven, unworthy of public posting or even the multiple rewrites needed.
Wood, the element for this year, also will play a big role this year, and not in the sexual way, but in rapid development, lofty idealism and innocence, easily destroyed. Wood monkeys are the worst kind, scatterbrained and disjointed, full of ideas and short on action and despite any optimism for the year, I just don't see it happening.
Monkeys are weak humans, full of pride and false confidence, and it is far to easy to compare them to myself as of late. I am not looking forward to this year, but then again, I am not looking forward to anything now, even though Rats, with their cool heads and keen minds, are supposed to fair well against the chaos of the upcoming year.
Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey, except that I plan on hiding from the monkey, and who knows if I'll emerge again.
January 20, 2004
the first cut is the deepest...
(N.B. This post gets a bit angsty and mopey, so if you're not into that sort of thing, start scrolling)
I guess, most importantly, I talked to him online today, and didn't feel as though the wind was kicked out of me as he said hello. That's a good sign.
I don't know. I just don't know. Usually I'm fine with everything, and took the break-up well, especially considering what a terrible few months I've had, but it's the little things, things that I shouldn't even acknowledge, that just make me feel as though someone punched me in the stomach or worse.
I was reading the newspaper yesterday, and read a little snippet of a story describing the computer access at his school, and sat there for twenty minutes, newspaper in hand, just staring blankly at the inch-long article. I was paralyzed just after reading the byline.
I was watching The West Wing a few days ago, and for background music, they played a Jeff Buckley song, which left me frazzled for the following few hours.
When I am perusing my cds, looking for something to listen to, I can't bring myself to listen to a cd he made me. I've relocated all of his cds to the bottom of the spindle, and only take them out if someone else wants to listen.
However, Liz and I went for pasties the other day (pasties being the food that defines the UP, like cranberries for Green Bay or pizza in Chicago or New York), and was totally fine with it; despite all the camp and paraphernalia from the UP, I barely blinked an eye, pointing out where he lived on a map on the wall and joking about long distances.
I guess, when asked, I'm doing fine. I'm not over him, but I'm not under him either (guffaw guffaw). I would still drop everything and move to LaFayette if he asked me, but I've learned not to get my hopes up.
The hardest part is training myself not to pretend like he's there at night; usually I contort my body as if he were there, using a body pillow, which got me through a lot of lonely nights at school.
It's hard. For those of you who've seen me out, you're bound to have noticed that I am a cuddley guy. Liz and I used to make fun of MJ for being the same way, describing him as an octopus, tentacles everywhere, with Kat as dinner (slurp). I suppose I'm just as guilty of that as he, if not worse.
There's a Dilbert cartoon that comes to mind: Dilbert is in a psychiatric office, in midst of a session. He complains that never has any physical contact with anyone; everyone at the office is too afraid to touch anyone due to sexual harrassment training, his dates always end badly at best, and his dog has taken to demanding payment for any petting. He recollects that the last time he had physical contact with anyone was when he hugged his mom for her birthday a few months back. At the end of the session, he outreaches his hand to thank the psychiatrist for her time, and she refuses him, seeing through his trick.
That's how I feel, right now. I'm a cuddly person, someone who feels better as an appendage of someone he likes, and it's just not happening anymore. I don't want to dwell on it too much, but I'm pretty sure that at school, I've gone almost a month without any human contact whatsoever: people don't sit directly next to me in class so there's no subtle brushes of the arm, I don't hug friends when I see them (mostly because they don't exist), nothing. It sucks.
I'm willing to bet that the lack of physical contact is one of the reasons why I don't like it at school. I'm like a swaddled Russian child, who has taught himself that crying out for attention won't do anything, and learns to sit there complacently.
Wow. That was a stupid metaphor.
Cat Stevens was right: the first cut is the deepest.
I guess, most importantly, I talked to him online today, and didn't feel as though the wind was kicked out of me as he said hello. That's a good sign.
I don't know. I just don't know. Usually I'm fine with everything, and took the break-up well, especially considering what a terrible few months I've had, but it's the little things, things that I shouldn't even acknowledge, that just make me feel as though someone punched me in the stomach or worse.
I was reading the newspaper yesterday, and read a little snippet of a story describing the computer access at his school, and sat there for twenty minutes, newspaper in hand, just staring blankly at the inch-long article. I was paralyzed just after reading the byline.
I was watching The West Wing a few days ago, and for background music, they played a Jeff Buckley song, which left me frazzled for the following few hours.
When I am perusing my cds, looking for something to listen to, I can't bring myself to listen to a cd he made me. I've relocated all of his cds to the bottom of the spindle, and only take them out if someone else wants to listen.
However, Liz and I went for pasties the other day (pasties being the food that defines the UP, like cranberries for Green Bay or pizza in Chicago or New York), and was totally fine with it; despite all the camp and paraphernalia from the UP, I barely blinked an eye, pointing out where he lived on a map on the wall and joking about long distances.
I guess, when asked, I'm doing fine. I'm not over him, but I'm not under him either (guffaw guffaw). I would still drop everything and move to LaFayette if he asked me, but I've learned not to get my hopes up.
The hardest part is training myself not to pretend like he's there at night; usually I contort my body as if he were there, using a body pillow, which got me through a lot of lonely nights at school.
It's hard. For those of you who've seen me out, you're bound to have noticed that I am a cuddley guy. Liz and I used to make fun of MJ for being the same way, describing him as an octopus, tentacles everywhere, with Kat as dinner (slurp). I suppose I'm just as guilty of that as he, if not worse.
There's a Dilbert cartoon that comes to mind: Dilbert is in a psychiatric office, in midst of a session. He complains that never has any physical contact with anyone; everyone at the office is too afraid to touch anyone due to sexual harrassment training, his dates always end badly at best, and his dog has taken to demanding payment for any petting. He recollects that the last time he had physical contact with anyone was when he hugged his mom for her birthday a few months back. At the end of the session, he outreaches his hand to thank the psychiatrist for her time, and she refuses him, seeing through his trick.
That's how I feel, right now. I'm a cuddly person, someone who feels better as an appendage of someone he likes, and it's just not happening anymore. I don't want to dwell on it too much, but I'm pretty sure that at school, I've gone almost a month without any human contact whatsoever: people don't sit directly next to me in class so there's no subtle brushes of the arm, I don't hug friends when I see them (mostly because they don't exist), nothing. It sucks.
I'm willing to bet that the lack of physical contact is one of the reasons why I don't like it at school. I'm like a swaddled Russian child, who has taught himself that crying out for attention won't do anything, and learns to sit there complacently.
Wow. That was a stupid metaphor.
Cat Stevens was right: the first cut is the deepest.
January 19, 2004
a brief intro
I stole this from him, who found it here, I'm assuming.
1. I was born in a small town in Wisconsin. Houdini once said his greatest escape was from my hometown. I agree with him on that.
2. My birth year is none of your buisness; if you really want to know, I am a rat, a wood rat to be specific, which means my relationships are unstable, I'm motivated by diligence and I am not very conventional.
3. I'm a Leo, and a 9, if you're interested in astrology and numerology.
4. My dad audits credit unions, and my mom is a childrens librarian.
5. I have two younger sisters and no brothers.
6. I currently live in Stevens Point, where I attend school.
7. I hate it here with a passion, and cannot think of a worst place for anyone with a brain to be. I can feel myself becoming more and more stupid the more time I spend here. (Proof: I almost wrote 'stupider and stupider,' and I don't think that 'stupider' is a word.)
8. I don't have a job at the moment, but this afternoon I am to pick up applications from the student employment offices, hopefully from the library or something else along those lines.
9. I’m 6'1", 145 pounds. Despite those stats, I have terrible body issues, to the point where I consider myself 'chubby'. Don't try dissuading me. I'm not thin, I just carry myself well.
10. I’ve never broken a bone in my life.
11. I did sprain my ankle once. I fell off of one of the tall slides at a local park and subsequently felt like an idiot for the duration of my time of crutches. I was old enough to know better, but fortunately it was during the summer, so I didn't have to bum around on crutches at school. My elementary school celebrated its 100th year when I was in second grade, and was not very handicapped-friendly.
12. I used to do sports a lot as a child, although I soon grew too smart to enjoy myself. Once, while playing T-Ball during first/second grade, during a devastating blowout, I was the only one who knew that our team was on the losing end; all of my teammates had to ask their parents excitedly for the score, while I knew that we were losing by 12 by the 4th inning, and berated my teammates.
13. I can be very competitive, so I don't play sports very often.
14. I haven't really done a whole lot of sports, but I don't think I'm that bad. I was one of the few students able to kick the ball over the fence during kickball, and for a brief time during 5th and 6th grade, I was the best tight end around.
15. Any mention on how I am still the best tight end will promptly be ignored.
16. My major in college -English, with a minor in creative writing.
17. Once I graduate, I hope to either edit or write for a living. It's what I do best, I think.
18. I don't want to work 9-5. I'd either like to work more or less. I'd like to overachieve or slack off. 9-5 is too cliche, in my opinion.
19. I have a few friends who harp on me to become a professional poet, but I'd hate to spend the rest of my life teaching workshops, listening to crappy poems that rhyme 'love' with 'above' or anything with a nature metaphor.
20. I don't enjoy myself when I'm single.
21. I went clubbing the night before the ACTs, and as a result, got only a 26. It isn't a bad score, but to be perfectly modest, I'm a fucking genius who should scored in the 30s.
22. I hate hate hate going to university here, and all of my classes grade on attendance, so I rarely skip, except for medical reaons.
23. I've never studied for a test in my life, at least not to my recollection.
24. I was a boy scout once, but the group fizzled out in 5th grade.
25. I have been in a couple accidents, the first one a doozy.
26. A doozy qualifies as losing control of my vehicle, rolling over two lanes of oncoming highway traffic (during rush hour, no less), landing upside down in a ditch, car enflamed. That was a fun 18th birthday.
27. I hate emoticons, and I don't like it when people use them in conversations with me.
28. I can't bring myself to have casual sex...
29. ...I don't know whether this is a positive or negative.
30. I have been in love, the birds singing in your ear, lovely-dovey, obnoxiously cute sort of way, exactly once.
31. A friend of mine coined the term 'sugar and candy,' after reading something in an earlier blog of mine. She said that we were the sweetest thing ever. I said that it makes most people vomit, and she replied "vomit sugar and candy!!" The phrase stuck.
32. The relationship lasted about 6 months, some of which long distance.
33. I still can't get over him.
34. I was diagnosed with asthma as a child, but I think I outgrew it. Supposedly I'm allergic to cat and dog hair, but I've never had a problem.
35. I want to be married. I can't explain why, but I want to.
36. I've only been to a few concerts in my life: Garbage, Tori and a couple of Ani concerts. I've gone to minor concerts, local hardxcore and punk shows, classical concerts, and the like, but nothing all that major.
37. I don't really like Tori Amos, but I went to the concert to appease a friend (with whom I later severed all ties).
38. Toriphiles are the scariest people in the world.
39. I don't like my family, and I don't like to talk about them.
40. In real life, I appear to be deep, intelligent and authentic. I don't think anyone knows better
41. I assume everyone knows I like boys. I'm not effiminate. Few people ask me if I'm gay, and those that do are surprised by my response.
42. My dad is quite possibly my least favorite person on earth.
43. I'm probably doing this whole 100 questions thing wrong, because I'm not sure what the questions are; I only have the answers
44. I love meat, but I've been a vegetarian since 9th grade, save for the time I spend in Russia. I love brats, chicken tenders, sausage links, and pepperoni.
45. I can cook. I just don't.
46. I read voraciously, and my plethoric vocabulary makes that evident.
47. I don't work out, but they just set up an exercise room in the dorm basemet, so I might have to check that out.
48. I get annoyed with people who need to be told things more than once. I'm extremely impatient.
49. I don't enjoy the taste of alcohol. If the taste is masked, I might have some, but not much.
50. I'm too much of a control freak to ever get drunk.
51. I don't drink coffee, but I drink tea on occasion
52. Actually, at a cofee shop near my house, they serve gimmicked flavored coffee that is pretty damn good. I like the Franz Kafka-- dark and white chocolate coffee, because Kafka represented both sides of the human experience, or some other hokey reason like that.
53. I am a baptized Unitarian-Universalist. We don't call it a baptism, though, we call it a dedication, and we include elements of fire (a candle), earth (a flower), and other new-agey stuff..
54. I am innately good at remembering lyrics to obscure songs
55. I get bored with things before the rest of society.
56. Innocence bores me.
57. My humour is mostly based on wit.
58. Sometimes I laugh when I'm saying something witty, and it ruins the moment.
59. People tell me that I am an elitist. I think that it's pretty damn apparent.
60. I really enjoy playing with other people's hair, especially when flirting..
61. I've dyed my hair since I was in 7th grade, usually different shades of red. Otherwise, my hair is dark, nearly black.
62. I want to eventually leave my grey in. I think it can look sexy, but I don't think about being old yet.
63. All of my classes are in one building, and my dorm is the closest possible. The only way my commute could be less would be if I lived on the first floor.
64. I want to live a city, someplace big where I am not the only artistic thing for miles around. Not like New York big, though.
65. I don't like the other guys who live in the dorm. Last night, a fair amount of them gathered across the hall for drunken karaoke, and sang repeatedly the word 'vaginal discharge' to the tune of "American Women." I use 'tune' in the loosest sense of the word possible. They then continued destroying other songs, but I found my headphones by that point.
66. I've already said that I don't like my family, so I'm not answering this question.
67. This question is blank, so I don't know what to put here.
68. The other guys in the dorm think I'm boring, since I spend all my time in my room. I suppose that's the truth.
69. I don’t have any piercings or tattoos. I don't want to be branded
71. I rarely remember my dreams, but when I do, they're usually pretty messed up.
72. The best part about living in the dorms is the high speed connection, even though there's a firewall so I can't download music. My school was featured in Salon.com for its efforts to curb illegal song downloads. Yet another reason why I hate it here.
73. I am an information junkie. I read/surf too much, especially too much liberal media and blogs for people whom I'll never meet.
74. I have an obnoxiously eclectic taste in music. I tend to like obscure stuff, but that's because I get bored with things easily, as previously stated. I love to rock out, as my position as the Headmister of the Fox Institute for Rock Studies clearly demostrates.
75. It's a long story.
76. My best friend is now a waitress in a cocktail bar in Milwaukee, and looks like shit because her boyfriend is a terrible, terrible person, but she won't listen to me at how scared I am about her condition.
77. In junior high school, the popular clique of girls all had a crush on me, which elevated me to one of the most popular people in school, and since then I've always acted like a popular guy, even when I'm not.
78. I went to an Arts high school, and my best friend (the aforementioned cocktail waitress) and I were able to take over and teach some classes because we were so organized and intimidating, and the teachers weren't.
79. I don't think I'm goodlooking in any way
80. I think most of my friends think that I'm smart.
81. I don't do amusement parks. I get my kicks above the waistline, thank you very much
82. I watch far too much television
83. This is the 3rd personal website/blog in which I've written so far this year, and it's not even February. Pathetic, no?
84. Did you know that pathetic technically means arousing sympathy, not pitiful, even though most people use it in the pitiful sense of the word?
85. I want to be a rock star when I grow up
86. I also want to be an artist.
87. I've never puked from drinking too much, because I've ever drank enough to get drunk.
88. I was on tv at age 7, and I asked a television reporter a joke at a 'Breakfast on the Farm' fundraiser of some sort. The cow went to the moo-seum, as it turns out.
89. I want to go back to London a lot.
90. I'm still not over him, so I don't really have a crush at the moment.
91. For his next movie, Ang Lee is trying to sign Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal as gay cowboys in love. How hot is that?
92. I have a photoshopped photo of Heath and Jake dressed as cowboys as my desktop, with Heath's arm around Jake's shoulders. I stole the photo from an article in salon.com
93. I'm not sure that I believe in soul mates anymore.
94. I am addicted to blogging.
95. I make some witty comments, hopefully. I don't know what this question is asking.
96. I really need to get better at calling/e-mailing people back. I tend to lose track of people easily.
97. I love to eat breakfast food at any time of the day.
98. I need someone to cuddle up with. I don't have anyone at the moment.
99. I get very annoyed with people who can't form coherent statements, and can't recognize an allusion if it bit them on the ass.
100. Making this list was tough because I didn't have the questions, I only had the answers, and I probably did it wrong. Oh well. And it took a long time, and it looks like I've missed lunch as a result. No biggie. I'm fat enough as it is.
1. I was born in a small town in Wisconsin. Houdini once said his greatest escape was from my hometown. I agree with him on that.
2. My birth year is none of your buisness; if you really want to know, I am a rat, a wood rat to be specific, which means my relationships are unstable, I'm motivated by diligence and I am not very conventional.
3. I'm a Leo, and a 9, if you're interested in astrology and numerology.
4. My dad audits credit unions, and my mom is a childrens librarian.
5. I have two younger sisters and no brothers.
6. I currently live in Stevens Point, where I attend school.
7. I hate it here with a passion, and cannot think of a worst place for anyone with a brain to be. I can feel myself becoming more and more stupid the more time I spend here. (Proof: I almost wrote 'stupider and stupider,' and I don't think that 'stupider' is a word.)
8. I don't have a job at the moment, but this afternoon I am to pick up applications from the student employment offices, hopefully from the library or something else along those lines.
9. I’m 6'1", 145 pounds. Despite those stats, I have terrible body issues, to the point where I consider myself 'chubby'. Don't try dissuading me. I'm not thin, I just carry myself well.
10. I’ve never broken a bone in my life.
11. I did sprain my ankle once. I fell off of one of the tall slides at a local park and subsequently felt like an idiot for the duration of my time of crutches. I was old enough to know better, but fortunately it was during the summer, so I didn't have to bum around on crutches at school. My elementary school celebrated its 100th year when I was in second grade, and was not very handicapped-friendly.
12. I used to do sports a lot as a child, although I soon grew too smart to enjoy myself. Once, while playing T-Ball during first/second grade, during a devastating blowout, I was the only one who knew that our team was on the losing end; all of my teammates had to ask their parents excitedly for the score, while I knew that we were losing by 12 by the 4th inning, and berated my teammates.
13. I can be very competitive, so I don't play sports very often.
14. I haven't really done a whole lot of sports, but I don't think I'm that bad. I was one of the few students able to kick the ball over the fence during kickball, and for a brief time during 5th and 6th grade, I was the best tight end around.
15. Any mention on how I am still the best tight end will promptly be ignored.
16. My major in college -English, with a minor in creative writing.
17. Once I graduate, I hope to either edit or write for a living. It's what I do best, I think.
18. I don't want to work 9-5. I'd either like to work more or less. I'd like to overachieve or slack off. 9-5 is too cliche, in my opinion.
19. I have a few friends who harp on me to become a professional poet, but I'd hate to spend the rest of my life teaching workshops, listening to crappy poems that rhyme 'love' with 'above' or anything with a nature metaphor.
20. I don't enjoy myself when I'm single.
21. I went clubbing the night before the ACTs, and as a result, got only a 26. It isn't a bad score, but to be perfectly modest, I'm a fucking genius who should scored in the 30s.
22. I hate hate hate going to university here, and all of my classes grade on attendance, so I rarely skip, except for medical reaons.
23. I've never studied for a test in my life, at least not to my recollection.
24. I was a boy scout once, but the group fizzled out in 5th grade.
25. I have been in a couple accidents, the first one a doozy.
26. A doozy qualifies as losing control of my vehicle, rolling over two lanes of oncoming highway traffic (during rush hour, no less), landing upside down in a ditch, car enflamed. That was a fun 18th birthday.
27. I hate emoticons, and I don't like it when people use them in conversations with me.
28. I can't bring myself to have casual sex...
29. ...I don't know whether this is a positive or negative.
30. I have been in love, the birds singing in your ear, lovely-dovey, obnoxiously cute sort of way, exactly once.
31. A friend of mine coined the term 'sugar and candy,' after reading something in an earlier blog of mine. She said that we were the sweetest thing ever. I said that it makes most people vomit, and she replied "vomit sugar and candy!!" The phrase stuck.
32. The relationship lasted about 6 months, some of which long distance.
33. I still can't get over him.
34. I was diagnosed with asthma as a child, but I think I outgrew it. Supposedly I'm allergic to cat and dog hair, but I've never had a problem.
35. I want to be married. I can't explain why, but I want to.
36. I've only been to a few concerts in my life: Garbage, Tori and a couple of Ani concerts. I've gone to minor concerts, local hardxcore and punk shows, classical concerts, and the like, but nothing all that major.
37. I don't really like Tori Amos, but I went to the concert to appease a friend (with whom I later severed all ties).
38. Toriphiles are the scariest people in the world.
39. I don't like my family, and I don't like to talk about them.
40. In real life, I appear to be deep, intelligent and authentic. I don't think anyone knows better
41. I assume everyone knows I like boys. I'm not effiminate. Few people ask me if I'm gay, and those that do are surprised by my response.
42. My dad is quite possibly my least favorite person on earth.
43. I'm probably doing this whole 100 questions thing wrong, because I'm not sure what the questions are; I only have the answers
44. I love meat, but I've been a vegetarian since 9th grade, save for the time I spend in Russia. I love brats, chicken tenders, sausage links, and pepperoni.
45. I can cook. I just don't.
46. I read voraciously, and my plethoric vocabulary makes that evident.
47. I don't work out, but they just set up an exercise room in the dorm basemet, so I might have to check that out.
48. I get annoyed with people who need to be told things more than once. I'm extremely impatient.
49. I don't enjoy the taste of alcohol. If the taste is masked, I might have some, but not much.
50. I'm too much of a control freak to ever get drunk.
51. I don't drink coffee, but I drink tea on occasion
52. Actually, at a cofee shop near my house, they serve gimmicked flavored coffee that is pretty damn good. I like the Franz Kafka-- dark and white chocolate coffee, because Kafka represented both sides of the human experience, or some other hokey reason like that.
53. I am a baptized Unitarian-Universalist. We don't call it a baptism, though, we call it a dedication, and we include elements of fire (a candle), earth (a flower), and other new-agey stuff..
54. I am innately good at remembering lyrics to obscure songs
55. I get bored with things before the rest of society.
56. Innocence bores me.
57. My humour is mostly based on wit.
58. Sometimes I laugh when I'm saying something witty, and it ruins the moment.
59. People tell me that I am an elitist. I think that it's pretty damn apparent.
60. I really enjoy playing with other people's hair, especially when flirting..
61. I've dyed my hair since I was in 7th grade, usually different shades of red. Otherwise, my hair is dark, nearly black.
62. I want to eventually leave my grey in. I think it can look sexy, but I don't think about being old yet.
63. All of my classes are in one building, and my dorm is the closest possible. The only way my commute could be less would be if I lived on the first floor.
64. I want to live a city, someplace big where I am not the only artistic thing for miles around. Not like New York big, though.
65. I don't like the other guys who live in the dorm. Last night, a fair amount of them gathered across the hall for drunken karaoke, and sang repeatedly the word 'vaginal discharge' to the tune of "American Women." I use 'tune' in the loosest sense of the word possible. They then continued destroying other songs, but I found my headphones by that point.
66. I've already said that I don't like my family, so I'm not answering this question.
67. This question is blank, so I don't know what to put here.
68. The other guys in the dorm think I'm boring, since I spend all my time in my room. I suppose that's the truth.
69. I don’t have any piercings or tattoos. I don't want to be branded
71. I rarely remember my dreams, but when I do, they're usually pretty messed up.
72. The best part about living in the dorms is the high speed connection, even though there's a firewall so I can't download music. My school was featured in Salon.com for its efforts to curb illegal song downloads. Yet another reason why I hate it here.
73. I am an information junkie. I read/surf too much, especially too much liberal media and blogs for people whom I'll never meet.
74. I have an obnoxiously eclectic taste in music. I tend to like obscure stuff, but that's because I get bored with things easily, as previously stated. I love to rock out, as my position as the Headmister of the Fox Institute for Rock Studies clearly demostrates.
75. It's a long story.
76. My best friend is now a waitress in a cocktail bar in Milwaukee, and looks like shit because her boyfriend is a terrible, terrible person, but she won't listen to me at how scared I am about her condition.
77. In junior high school, the popular clique of girls all had a crush on me, which elevated me to one of the most popular people in school, and since then I've always acted like a popular guy, even when I'm not.
78. I went to an Arts high school, and my best friend (the aforementioned cocktail waitress) and I were able to take over and teach some classes because we were so organized and intimidating, and the teachers weren't.
79. I don't think I'm goodlooking in any way
80. I think most of my friends think that I'm smart.
81. I don't do amusement parks. I get my kicks above the waistline, thank you very much
82. I watch far too much television
83. This is the 3rd personal website/blog in which I've written so far this year, and it's not even February. Pathetic, no?
84. Did you know that pathetic technically means arousing sympathy, not pitiful, even though most people use it in the pitiful sense of the word?
85. I want to be a rock star when I grow up
86. I also want to be an artist.
87. I've never puked from drinking too much, because I've ever drank enough to get drunk.
88. I was on tv at age 7, and I asked a television reporter a joke at a 'Breakfast on the Farm' fundraiser of some sort. The cow went to the moo-seum, as it turns out.
89. I want to go back to London a lot.
90. I'm still not over him, so I don't really have a crush at the moment.
91. For his next movie, Ang Lee is trying to sign Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal as gay cowboys in love. How hot is that?
92. I have a photoshopped photo of Heath and Jake dressed as cowboys as my desktop, with Heath's arm around Jake's shoulders. I stole the photo from an article in salon.com
93. I'm not sure that I believe in soul mates anymore.
94. I am addicted to blogging.
95. I make some witty comments, hopefully. I don't know what this question is asking.
96. I really need to get better at calling/e-mailing people back. I tend to lose track of people easily.
97. I love to eat breakfast food at any time of the day.
98. I need someone to cuddle up with. I don't have anyone at the moment.
99. I get very annoyed with people who can't form coherent statements, and can't recognize an allusion if it bit them on the ass.
100. Making this list was tough because I didn't have the questions, I only had the answers, and I probably did it wrong. Oh well. And it took a long time, and it looks like I've missed lunch as a result. No biggie. I'm fat enough as it is.
January 3, 2004
Art
I try to give credit where credit is due, but it's hard in the rotating mastheads. I'm going to try and update this post whenever I change mastheads. Most of you access the site via RSS feeds anyway, but I still like being able to click the refresh button and see something new. Please note that I often had to crop or change the color balance to these photos so they would fit up at the top.
ANDERSON
Laurie Anderson is a popular performance artist married to Lou Reed. This is a snippet from a backdrop to one of her shows.
ROMERO
David Romero is a gay commerical artist from Southern California. This painting is from a series of portraits made at the moments of orgasm.
VIVANCO
Mariano Vivanco, photographer. He's the guy behind those dirty french rugby calendars.
BAUMANN
This is a play off of the cover art of my favorite book, Martin Bauman; Or A Sure Thing.
SCHIELE
Egon Schiele was a Austrian painter thought to be the sucessor to Klimt. This is from a self portrait.
EYES OF A CHILD
This is adapted from a painting by one of my favorite contemporary artists, Steve Walker.
MARCUS
From a NSFW photoseries by Mark Henderson, cropped conveniently.
GYLLENHAAL
Jake Gyllenhaal is the hottest man alive and he will soon be my boyfriend and we will have sex all of the time. These are pictures from Interview magazine. I don't know the name of the photographer.
CAT AND CANARY
This is a still from The Cat and the Canary, a silent horror film from 1922. It's a bit more violent and desperate than I'd like, but I still think it's a cool screencap.
BASSETT
From a photograph taken by Sam Bassett.
ALDRIDGE
I've posted this picture before, but not as a bannerhead. I don't recall which of the Aldridge team took this picture.
BERGER-MUHLFELD
Gotta love 'degenerate' art.
KESHISHAN
MARSDEN
I modified this photo of James Marsden from GQ magazine; Peggy Sirota photographer.
LOUNGING
A parody/homage to David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim.
TIWIMUTA
Beat Bolliger in collaboration with Nathaniel Goldberg for TIWIMUTA Magazine (This Is What It Made Us Think About).
BRANDO
This is a picture of screen legend Marlon Brando in his prime. I'm not exactly sure of the context or the photographer.
EFF
Jay Eff, photographer.
PSYCHO
This is a modified still from "Psycho."
FREEMAG
Stephen Kroeger photographed for Free Mag fashion editorial. I'm not sure of the photographer.
LACORTE
Alex LaCorte photographing Parker Hurley, found via queerty.
MAN'S TOUCH
I don't remember where this picture came from, though I labelled it "Man's Touch"
JAMES
Ethan James, photography.
EXTERFACE
ANDERSON
Laurie Anderson is a popular performance artist married to Lou Reed. This is a snippet from a backdrop to one of her shows.
ROMERO
David Romero is a gay commerical artist from Southern California. This painting is from a series of portraits made at the moments of orgasm.
VIVANCO
Mariano Vivanco, photographer. He's the guy behind those dirty french rugby calendars.
BAUMANN
This is a play off of the cover art of my favorite book, Martin Bauman; Or A Sure Thing.
SCHIELE
Egon Schiele was a Austrian painter thought to be the sucessor to Klimt. This is from a self portrait.
EYES OF A CHILD
This is adapted from a painting by one of my favorite contemporary artists, Steve Walker.
MARCUS
From a NSFW photoseries by Mark Henderson, cropped conveniently.
GYLLENHAAL
Jake Gyllenhaal is the hottest man alive and he will soon be my boyfriend and we will have sex all of the time. These are pictures from Interview magazine. I don't know the name of the photographer.
CAT AND CANARY
This is a still from The Cat and the Canary, a silent horror film from 1922. It's a bit more violent and desperate than I'd like, but I still think it's a cool screencap.
BASSETT
From a photograph taken by Sam Bassett.
ALDRIDGE
I've posted this picture before, but not as a bannerhead. I don't recall which of the Aldridge team took this picture.
BERGER-MUHLFELD
Gotta love 'degenerate' art.
KESHISHAN
MARSDEN
I modified this photo of James Marsden from GQ magazine; Peggy Sirota photographer.
LOUNGING
A parody/homage to David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. TIWIMUTA
Beat Bolliger in collaboration with Nathaniel Goldberg for TIWIMUTA Magazine (This Is What It Made Us Think About).
BRANDO
This is a picture of screen legend Marlon Brando in his prime. I'm not exactly sure of the context or the photographer.
EFF
Jay Eff, photographer.
PSYCHO
This is a modified still from "Psycho."
FREEMAG
Stephen Kroeger photographed for Free Mag fashion editorial. I'm not sure of the photographer.
LACORTE
Alex LaCorte photographing Parker Hurley, found via queerty.
MAN'S TOUCH
I don't remember where this picture came from, though I labelled it "Man's Touch"
JAMES
Ethan James, photography.
EXTERFACE
Exterface are two 24-year-old French artists, Julien and Stéphane, who take sensual photographs, usually of the male form.
TAHAN
Elias Tahan is a young professional photographer in LA.
RICKDAY
Charles Devoe photographed by Rick Day for Level magazine.
DIDIO
Guilherme Sanchez, model, shot by Didio.
KELLY
The hot nerd was photographed by Kristopher Kelly.
SUFJAN
Adorkable darling of the indie-music scene, Sufjan Stevens.
STOCKINGS
A cropped photo from an Alex Prinze spread from DNA Magazine, shot by Dean Stockings.
JOHNSEN
From Acid in the Ice Cream, a series by Zach Johnsen.
SONNET
This banner is taken from a piece of art by seekyle draw entitled "sonnet." You can purchase the original, if you are so interested, or check out some of his other stuff.
SECRETS
I asked Secret Simon to design a masthead or two for me, and these are what he came up with. Aren't they wonderful?
PEYTON
Elizabeth Peyton is a popular British artist known for drawing fey pop stars. I sort of looked like this portrait when I started the blog, but after I got a haircut and lost my large blue sunglasses, it doesn't fit quite so well. I can't find another painting that is as good a likeness, and I don't want to show a picture of myself, so you're stuck.
January 1, 2004
Biography: Updated March 9 2009
It has been almost two years since I last updated the about-me section, and enough has changed to merit it, so here goes.
I hate writing these biography things. I never know what to do with them; should I go with a simple bullet point list, or should I tell you my whole life story?
If you want to know my whole life story, well, that's what this here 'online journal' is here for. And yes, I do recognize the difference between 'online journal' and 'blog.' This online website is about 60% journal and 40% blog, and 100% awesome. Erm. Maybe not.
I've been blogging since late 2001 on various platforms: diaryland, xanga, livejournal, and blogger. I'm like a senior citizen on the internet.
The blog is named after a Dostoevsky quote which can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of the page. There is virtually no information in my Blogger profile.
I'm an artsy-fartsy-creative sort of guy, a former English major who is well-read and cultured and kinda snotty about it. I like guys and naked pictures of guys. Sometimes I post naked pictures of guys but cover up their naughty bits with the dustjacket of a book I've read and recommend.
I have a boyfriend of about two years. His nickname on the blog is Initials, because in real life he goes by his initials--I told you I was a creative type. He has a fat lesbian roommate and I don't like her nor her vegan girlfriend.
I have a filthy mouth but a heart of gold...kinda.
I have the 8th gayest job imaginable. And no, it doesn't involve penises thrusting into holes. I have seen a few videos where it could be a possibility, though.
I almost never wear my glasses, but usually have at least one pair of over-sized sunglasses on my person. I used to look like the Elizabeth Peyton portrait in the sidebar, but I grew out of it and haven't found a suitable replacement.
I've been told my mix cds are amazing; I hope people aren't lying when they tell me that. I like to think I'm pretty good at making them.
I'm the cutest person you know who has read Proust. Not in French, only in translation.
Jake Gyllenhaal and I are secret boyfriends. Don't tell anyone.
If you enjoy my blog, you should prove it with material goods.
I hate writing these biography things. I never know what to do with them; should I go with a simple bullet point list, or should I tell you my whole life story?
If you want to know my whole life story, well, that's what this here 'online journal' is here for. And yes, I do recognize the difference between 'online journal' and 'blog.' This online website is about 60% journal and 40% blog, and 100% awesome. Erm. Maybe not.
I've been blogging since late 2001 on various platforms: diaryland, xanga, livejournal, and blogger. I'm like a senior citizen on the internet.
The blog is named after a Dostoevsky quote which can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of the page. There is virtually no information in my Blogger profile.
I'm an artsy-fartsy-creative sort of guy, a former English major who is well-read and cultured and kinda snotty about it. I like guys and naked pictures of guys. Sometimes I post naked pictures of guys but cover up their naughty bits with the dustjacket of a book I've read and recommend.
I have a boyfriend of about two years. His nickname on the blog is Initials, because in real life he goes by his initials--I told you I was a creative type. He has a fat lesbian roommate and I don't like her nor her vegan girlfriend.
I have a filthy mouth but a heart of gold...kinda.
I have the 8th gayest job imaginable. And no, it doesn't involve penises thrusting into holes. I have seen a few videos where it could be a possibility, though.
I almost never wear my glasses, but usually have at least one pair of over-sized sunglasses on my person. I used to look like the Elizabeth Peyton portrait in the sidebar, but I grew out of it and haven't found a suitable replacement.
I've been told my mix cds are amazing; I hope people aren't lying when they tell me that. I like to think I'm pretty good at making them.
I'm the cutest person you know who has read Proust. Not in French, only in translation.
Jake Gyllenhaal and I are secret boyfriends. Don't tell anyone.
If you enjoy my blog, you should prove it with material goods.
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