It stands to reason that every time I go though a bad patch, there's a West Wing marathon on to calm my nerves. Of course, Bravo has virtually no programming, and reruns the West Wing, my favorite show, three or four times a day, with or without my own personal tragedies. Marathons of the West Wing on Bravo are as common as mud. That mud being top-grade, UltraClean-htpTM 96 Well soil drenched in Perrier with Lemon, but it's still mud. Awesome, artistic, captivating mud, but it's still mud.
So, when my dad was rushed to the hospital with the panic of cardiac arrest Sunday afternoon, I knew that Bravo would have a marathon waiting for me the next day.
Actually, I didn't know that, but it's funny how those things work out.
The doctors aren't sure what happened. Tests came back inconclusive, but the talk is that it wasn't a heart attack. One doctor was leaning towards an inflammation of the gall bladder, one said it was an ulcer, one said it sounded like a tumor, and another said something else.
Note to self: Don't get rushed to the hospital during a holiday weekend. Important people will be in their cabins up north or visiting family, and nothing will get accomplished other than an IV drip and some hand-holding. And while that may be comforting for a while, it gets old.
He was supposed to have angioplasty this morning, but due to complications with the procedure, he'll be having open heart surgery sometime tomorrow afternoon.
Boy, when it rains, it sure pours.
Rain, Rain, Go Away.
May 31, 2005
May 28, 2005
An unusual Saturday post
It seems to me that I forgot to finish yesterday's post, which is most definitely not about this man. Nope. Not at all. That's just ignorant. It's ignorant.
Not that I have an ending for the post at this moment. I have no idea how to finish that post in a way that would be befitting the sick humor and trauma of having my mother the children's librarian say such words as "Give it to me good--Oh yeah, yeah, do it, daddy" in a storytime voice. I'm just recognizing my failures. Apparently, that's one of the ways I can become a sucessful, well-adjusted human being; to recognize and work around my strengths and failures. Whatever. I don't think that my apologizing for the lack of an ending is going to make my problems go away like Jessica Simpson at a Mensa meeting, but it's worth a shot.
Oh, and to respond to a comment--
The latin title of Thursday's post comes from an epigraph to a Thomas Hardy poem. It means "My heart is smitten and withered like grass," and is a loose translation from Psalm 102:5.
I took two years of Latin in high school, and am fairly well read in terms of poetry and history; hence the abundance of Latin on the site. Obiter Dictum, as I've mentioned before, is a Latin phrase cum legal term meaning an off-the-cuff comment, or something said in passing. Also, Dictum was part of the URL of a blog I had in high school. You learn something new every day.
I remember in high school, our Latin teacher was crazy. (I've since heard that all Latin teachers are crazy, in an attempt to drum up prospective students.) We'd have toga parties every other week, sing songs about verb conjugations to the tune of "Mary had a Little Lamb," and watch movies that are set in ancient Rome but not really known for their historical accuracy, like "Gladiator" and "Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." Hell, once we watched a Pink Floyd concert that took place in an ancient colliseum. It was an easy class, and one that I excelled in with flying colors.
After a year and a half, I was asked to join the handful of 3rd year Latin students for my last semester, essentially skipping a year. All they did was translate bawdy plays, dirty poems and early pornography with a grad students who came in and took them to a conference room, picking up candy and coffee on most days. Plus, I had more friends in that class, which only sweetened the deal.
Anyway, one of the many, many busywork assignments was every month, we had to compile a list of 30 things that came from ancient Rome, or references to Latin in our everyday life. It was one a day, and I think it was an attempt to make us realize that Latin was not a dead language, but one that still had relevance.
Of course, being slackers and Seniors and smartasses, the references to Latin that counted were often weak and comical. Someone had Caesar dressing on a salad. The architecture in the Harry Potter movie looked kind of Roman. Someone said something in Latin in a courtroom scene in Law & Order. In English class, we're reading Antigone (which is, of course, techinically Greek, but it still counted). The Agony and the Ecstacy was on tv last night (not that they watched it, mind you, neveryoumind that movie is set during the Renaissance; it still counted). I saw someone from the class in the hall and said "Salve" (pronounced SAL-way, it means hello).
Anyways, I'm kind of hoping that's why "Veovis" asked the question in his comment. I hope there's another weird Latin teacher making kids do crazy, easy assignments, and Veovis is going to raise his hand on Monday, and say that he was reading some whiny though sometimes witty gay blog written by some guy who might look like a geeky Ryan Philippe in horned-rim glasses who titled one of his posts in Latin.
Not that I have an ending for the post at this moment. I have no idea how to finish that post in a way that would be befitting the sick humor and trauma of having my mother the children's librarian say such words as "Give it to me good--Oh yeah, yeah, do it, daddy" in a storytime voice. I'm just recognizing my failures. Apparently, that's one of the ways I can become a sucessful, well-adjusted human being; to recognize and work around my strengths and failures. Whatever. I don't think that my apologizing for the lack of an ending is going to make my problems go away like Jessica Simpson at a Mensa meeting, but it's worth a shot.
Oh, and to respond to a comment--
The latin title of Thursday's post comes from an epigraph to a Thomas Hardy poem. It means "My heart is smitten and withered like grass," and is a loose translation from Psalm 102:5.
I took two years of Latin in high school, and am fairly well read in terms of poetry and history; hence the abundance of Latin on the site. Obiter Dictum, as I've mentioned before, is a Latin phrase cum legal term meaning an off-the-cuff comment, or something said in passing. Also, Dictum was part of the URL of a blog I had in high school. You learn something new every day.
I remember in high school, our Latin teacher was crazy. (I've since heard that all Latin teachers are crazy, in an attempt to drum up prospective students.) We'd have toga parties every other week, sing songs about verb conjugations to the tune of "Mary had a Little Lamb," and watch movies that are set in ancient Rome but not really known for their historical accuracy, like "Gladiator" and "Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." Hell, once we watched a Pink Floyd concert that took place in an ancient colliseum. It was an easy class, and one that I excelled in with flying colors.
After a year and a half, I was asked to join the handful of 3rd year Latin students for my last semester, essentially skipping a year. All they did was translate bawdy plays, dirty poems and early pornography with a grad students who came in and took them to a conference room, picking up candy and coffee on most days. Plus, I had more friends in that class, which only sweetened the deal.
Anyway, one of the many, many busywork assignments was every month, we had to compile a list of 30 things that came from ancient Rome, or references to Latin in our everyday life. It was one a day, and I think it was an attempt to make us realize that Latin was not a dead language, but one that still had relevance.
Of course, being slackers and Seniors and smartasses, the references to Latin that counted were often weak and comical. Someone had Caesar dressing on a salad. The architecture in the Harry Potter movie looked kind of Roman. Someone said something in Latin in a courtroom scene in Law & Order. In English class, we're reading Antigone (which is, of course, techinically Greek, but it still counted). The Agony and the Ecstacy was on tv last night (not that they watched it, mind you, neveryoumind that movie is set during the Renaissance; it still counted). I saw someone from the class in the hall and said "Salve" (pronounced SAL-way, it means hello).
Anyways, I'm kind of hoping that's why "Veovis" asked the question in his comment. I hope there's another weird Latin teacher making kids do crazy, easy assignments, and Veovis is going to raise his hand on Monday, and say that he was reading some whiny though sometimes witty gay blog written by some guy who might look like a geeky Ryan Philippe in horned-rim glasses who titled one of his posts in Latin.
May 27, 2005
I awoke yesterday to the knocking of the UPS man.
In a fit of self-indulgence, I went on a shopping spree at Amazon.com, buying two hardcover books, a DVD and two cds, though thanks to free shipping and a promo code, it cost me only a little over $30. As I've said before (I think), I was a sad gay boy with a credit card, and the only solution is retail therapy. And, since it was 3 in the morning on a Sunday at the time, the only stores available to me were WalMart and a 24-hour grocery store.
I suppose that the previous list is a bit misleading, since the DVD was a live disc coupled with a limited edition version of the new Sleater Kinney album, but still. The hardcover books alone cost $35. It was a sweet deal.
While I still have doubts about the new Sleater Kinney cd, the other cd I bought, a live recording of a David Sedaris reading, is excellent, as is Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation. I should mention that the 2 AM repeat of her CSPAN book reading was one of the highlights of my attempted cohabitation with Heart, and is what probably inspired me to purchase the book. (As the child of a librarian, the concept of buying books, owning them and placing them on a bookshelf, is foreign.)
The other hardcover book was a lovely book of haiku by a dashing young man who has never, ever been in the same room as this man, and is not nearly as good looking, as handsome, or as talented. The genius of the haiku author, however, has already been mentioned in multiple places, and so I won't bore you with any fawning praise I may have for the man who is most assuredly not him, on whom I've had an occasional cybercrush, off and on, for the past few years.
Being the lazy hedonist that I am, I spend yesterday reading one book, and then the other, and then listening to my new cds, and all in all not accomplishing anything. I left the books near the computer as I went and grabbed something to eat, was my mom came back from work and went online to check her email.
She notices the book, and is skimming through it as I return from the kitchen.
Oh, my.
She had read the preface, and mentioned her amusement of the story about the hexagonal torte and the heroin addict, and then proceded to flip through the pages in the book, skimming the haiku. My sister walks in, and asks what she's reading. She mentions the name of the book, and, in a move that is sure to result in years of therapy and erectile dysfunction, she reads aloud in her children's librarian/storytime voice the haiku on the open page.
Her voice trailed off, and I was afraid to finish her sentence for her.
"Persnickety?"
"Yeah, that's a good word to use. Persnickety."
Not that I think that the author is overly persnickety, mind you, but I didn't want to mention any of the other words I was thinking of in front of my mother.
I suppose that the previous list is a bit misleading, since the DVD was a live disc coupled with a limited edition version of the new Sleater Kinney album, but still. The hardcover books alone cost $35. It was a sweet deal.
While I still have doubts about the new Sleater Kinney cd, the other cd I bought, a live recording of a David Sedaris reading, is excellent, as is Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation. I should mention that the 2 AM repeat of her CSPAN book reading was one of the highlights of my attempted cohabitation with Heart, and is what probably inspired me to purchase the book. (As the child of a librarian, the concept of buying books, owning them and placing them on a bookshelf, is foreign.)
The other hardcover book was a lovely book of haiku by a dashing young man who has never, ever been in the same room as this man, and is not nearly as good looking, as handsome, or as talented. The genius of the haiku author, however, has already been mentioned in multiple places, and so I won't bore you with any fawning praise I may have for the man who is most assuredly not him, on whom I've had an occasional cybercrush, off and on, for the past few years.
Being the lazy hedonist that I am, I spend yesterday reading one book, and then the other, and then listening to my new cds, and all in all not accomplishing anything. I left the books near the computer as I went and grabbed something to eat, was my mom came back from work and went online to check her email.
She notices the book, and is skimming through it as I return from the kitchen.
Oh, my.
She had read the preface, and mentioned her amusement of the story about the hexagonal torte and the heroin addict, and then proceded to flip through the pages in the book, skimming the haiku. My sister walks in, and asks what she's reading. She mentions the name of the book, and, in a move that is sure to result in years of therapy and erectile dysfunction, she reads aloud in her children's librarian/storytime voice the haiku on the open page.
Yes, this feels quite good.She turns the page.
Still, could you pick up the pace?
Golden Girls is on.
Give it to me good--She then said "You know? I kind of like this guy, except he seems too...."
Oh yeah, yeah, do it, daddy."
How Embarrassing.
Her voice trailed off, and I was afraid to finish her sentence for her.
"Persnickety?"
"Yeah, that's a good word to use. Persnickety."
Not that I think that the author is overly persnickety, mind you, but I didn't want to mention any of the other words I was thinking of in front of my mother.
May 26, 2005
Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum
"Writing is easy, you just sit down at a typewriter and open up a vein."
I suppose I should take Alexander Wollcott's quip to Dorothy Parker to heart, and have the doctors insert zippers on my wrists. It would make for much easier clean-up and much better blog posts.
No, this isn't a cry for help or an admission of 'sewing accidents' (the pleasant euphemism for self-mutilation during junior high). I'm just saying that I wish I could do it. Every time I try it floods out, in melodramatic, passive-aggressive, martyristic ways. While I've started to say it in emails, and in conversations with friends, saying it in a blog just seems more declamatory and self-indulgent than I want it to be. I'm not keeping it bottled up inside, but keeping it clandestine.
I'm going to try and get my groove back; pinky swear. Right now, I'll just post some poetry (I may have posted this poem previously, but am too lazy to check the archives.). It's by Dorothy Parker, who, as we all know, is one of my favorites. It's called "Symptom Recital."
I suppose I should take Alexander Wollcott's quip to Dorothy Parker to heart, and have the doctors insert zippers on my wrists. It would make for much easier clean-up and much better blog posts.
No, this isn't a cry for help or an admission of 'sewing accidents' (the pleasant euphemism for self-mutilation during junior high). I'm just saying that I wish I could do it. Every time I try it floods out, in melodramatic, passive-aggressive, martyristic ways. While I've started to say it in emails, and in conversations with friends, saying it in a blog just seems more declamatory and self-indulgent than I want it to be. I'm not keeping it bottled up inside, but keeping it clandestine.
I'm going to try and get my groove back; pinky swear. Right now, I'll just post some poetry (I may have posted this poem previously, but am too lazy to check the archives.). It's by Dorothy Parker, who, as we all know, is one of my favorites. It's called "Symptom Recital."
I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again.
May 24, 2005
Elephant (maybe a spoiler but not really)
I rented "Elephant" last night, Gus Van Sant's award-winning film that follows high school students throughout their day, which ends in a Columbine-like massacre.
I was enjoying this movie, really getting into the stop-and-start narrative and the camera tricks, the forced tension, and all the other things that helped this movie win the Palme d'Or a few years ago.
Until.
The two students, who turn out to be killers, are hanging out the morning of the massacre. One gets into the shower, and everything is yummy and fine. Then, the second killer comes into the screen and starts getting undressed. He opens the shower door and steps in, delivering this immortal line:
"I guess today's the day we're going to die. I've never even kissed anyone. Have you?" And then the two guys make out in the shower.
What. The. Hell. Totally ruined the movie for me. After that, it all turned into a bad, TROMA-like movie.
Sure, it was kind of hot, but totally unnecessary.
::EDIT:: I can't believe that I just said that two naked boys making out was unnecessary. You can tell how out of it I've been lately.
I was enjoying this movie, really getting into the stop-and-start narrative and the camera tricks, the forced tension, and all the other things that helped this movie win the Palme d'Or a few years ago.
Until.
The two students, who turn out to be killers, are hanging out the morning of the massacre. One gets into the shower, and everything is yummy and fine. Then, the second killer comes into the screen and starts getting undressed. He opens the shower door and steps in, delivering this immortal line:
"I guess today's the day we're going to die. I've never even kissed anyone. Have you?" And then the two guys make out in the shower.
What. The. Hell. Totally ruined the movie for me. After that, it all turned into a bad, TROMA-like movie.
Sure, it was kind of hot, but totally unnecessary.
::EDIT:: I can't believe that I just said that two naked boys making out was unnecessary. You can tell how out of it I've been lately.
May 23, 2005
no one heard the butterfly flapping in his throat
When one person's body touches another person's body, chemicals under the skin break down and recombine, setting off an electric spark which leaps, neuron to neuron, to the brain. It is all a matter of potassium and calcium.--David Leavitt
I'm a big fan of online tests. I try not to clutter up the blog with them, as I find them lazy and self-indulgent, but sometimes they're fun. Other times, they're not.
I recently took the Enneagram online, and found out that I am an Individualist: The Sensitive, Withdrawn Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental
There's nothing like finding out that you hold a special affinity with such wonderful people like Martha Graham (notoriously moody), Rudolph Nureyev (died of AIDS), J.D. Salinger (recluse), Anaîs Nin (psychoanalysized herself into a frenzy), Marcel Proust ('delicate dispostion,' tempermental), Maria Callas (huge diva, addicted to quaaludes) Tennessee Williams (alcoholic, probable suicide), Edgar Allan Poe (alcoholic), Michael Jackson (duh), Virginia Woolf (suicide), Judy Garland (suicide), "Blanche DuBois" from Streetcar Named Desire(madness) to make you feel like a winner.
Fours are emotionally complex and highly sensitive. They long to be understood and appreciated for their authentic selves, but easily feel misunderstood and unappreciated. They have a tendency to withdraw in the face of a world that seems harsh or crude, and are often somewhat moody or temperamental. They are emotionally centered and spend much of their lives immersed in their internal mental landscapes, where they feel free to cultivate and analyse their feelings. A desire to manifest this internal world often leads Fours to an interest in the arts, and some do become actual artists. Whether artistic or not, however, most Fours are aesthetically sensitive and concerned with self-expression and self-revelation, whether it be in the clothes they wear or in the overall nature of their often idiosyncratic lifestyles.
Fours are somewhat melancholic by disposition, and under stress tend to lapse into depression. They also tend to be self-absorbed, even under the best of circumstances, but when unbalanced, easily give way to a self-indulgence which they perceive as being fully justified as a way to compensate for the general lack of pleasure they experience in their lives. Rather than look for practical solutions to their difficulties, Fours are prone to fantasizing about a savior who will rescue them from their unhappiness.
Well gee. That sure sums me up better than a tree. Well, for the past week or two, at least.
You are so wrapped up in your own quote 'sensitivity, creativity and intuition' unquote that you are completely walled off from other people. You would rather stare at a painting or listen to music than deal with reality. You retreat inside your imagination not because it is profound, but because it's never challenging.
I don't know why I'm so introspective lately.
Well yeah, yeah I do. I only have 3 semesters left, and then I'm out in the real world, with a little piece of paper that says that I like reading and poetry, and I have to start thinking of ways to motivate and market myself. I'm living at home again, and I'm not in the most healthy of relationships. I've lost contact with many of my friends, I'm stuck in a dead end, demeaning job, I don't particularly enjoy college, and I'm just not creative anymore. And all this is taking its toll.
I'm checking out a book from the library tomorrow that will help me embrace my four-ness without saying hokey things like 'embrace my four-ness' that will hopefully set me on the right track.
::edit:: This post is probably more whiny and depressing that I meant it to be.
I'm a big fan of online tests. I try not to clutter up the blog with them, as I find them lazy and self-indulgent, but sometimes they're fun. Other times, they're not.
I recently took the Enneagram online, and found out that I am an Individualist: The Sensitive, Withdrawn Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental
There's nothing like finding out that you hold a special affinity with such wonderful people like Martha Graham (notoriously moody), Rudolph Nureyev (died of AIDS), J.D. Salinger (recluse), Anaîs Nin (psychoanalysized herself into a frenzy), Marcel Proust ('delicate dispostion,' tempermental), Maria Callas (huge diva, addicted to quaaludes) Tennessee Williams (alcoholic, probable suicide), Edgar Allan Poe (alcoholic), Michael Jackson (duh), Virginia Woolf (suicide), Judy Garland (suicide), "Blanche DuBois" from Streetcar Named Desire(madness) to make you feel like a winner.
Fours are emotionally complex and highly sensitive. They long to be understood and appreciated for their authentic selves, but easily feel misunderstood and unappreciated. They have a tendency to withdraw in the face of a world that seems harsh or crude, and are often somewhat moody or temperamental. They are emotionally centered and spend much of their lives immersed in their internal mental landscapes, where they feel free to cultivate and analyse their feelings. A desire to manifest this internal world often leads Fours to an interest in the arts, and some do become actual artists. Whether artistic or not, however, most Fours are aesthetically sensitive and concerned with self-expression and self-revelation, whether it be in the clothes they wear or in the overall nature of their often idiosyncratic lifestyles.
Fours are somewhat melancholic by disposition, and under stress tend to lapse into depression. They also tend to be self-absorbed, even under the best of circumstances, but when unbalanced, easily give way to a self-indulgence which they perceive as being fully justified as a way to compensate for the general lack of pleasure they experience in their lives. Rather than look for practical solutions to their difficulties, Fours are prone to fantasizing about a savior who will rescue them from their unhappiness.
Well gee. That sure sums me up better than a tree. Well, for the past week or two, at least.
You are so wrapped up in your own quote 'sensitivity, creativity and intuition' unquote that you are completely walled off from other people. You would rather stare at a painting or listen to music than deal with reality. You retreat inside your imagination not because it is profound, but because it's never challenging.
I don't know why I'm so introspective lately.
Well yeah, yeah I do. I only have 3 semesters left, and then I'm out in the real world, with a little piece of paper that says that I like reading and poetry, and I have to start thinking of ways to motivate and market myself. I'm living at home again, and I'm not in the most healthy of relationships. I've lost contact with many of my friends, I'm stuck in a dead end, demeaning job, I don't particularly enjoy college, and I'm just not creative anymore. And all this is taking its toll.
I'm checking out a book from the library tomorrow that will help me embrace my four-ness without saying hokey things like 'embrace my four-ness' that will hopefully set me on the right track.
::edit:: This post is probably more whiny and depressing that I meant it to be.
May 20, 2005
Forward.
My mom forwarded this thing to me. You find your birthday, and then read about the corresponding tree and it reveals much about who you are. It related to Celtic astrology or something. For everyone's birthday I remember, it seems to work. I've italicized mine.
YOUR TREE (in alphabetical order)
Apple Tree (Love) -- quiet and shy at times, lots of charm, appeal,
and attraction, pleasant attitude, flirtatious smile, adventurous,
sensitive, loyal in love, wants to love and be loved, faithful and
tender partner, very generous, many talents, loves children, needs
affectionate partner.
Ash Tree (Ambition) -- extremely attractive, vivacious, impulsive,
demanding, does not care for criticism, ambitious, intelligent,
talented, likes to play with fate, can be very egotistic, reliable,
restless lover, sometimes money rules over the heart, demands
attention, needs love and much emotional support.
Beech Tree (Creative) -- has good taste, concerned about its looks,
materialistic, good organization of life and career, economical, good
leader, takes no unnecessary risks, reasonable, splendid lifetime
companion, keen on keeping fit (diets, sports, etc.).
Birch Tree (Inspiration) -- vivacious, attractive, elegant, friendly,
unpretentious, modest, does not like anything in excess, abhors the
vulgar, loves life in nature and in calm, not very passionate, full of
imagination, little ambition, creates a calm and content atmosphere.
Cedar Tree (Confidence) -- of rare strength, knows how to adapt, likes
unexpected presents, of good health, not in the least shy, tends to
look down on others, self-confident, a great speaker, determined,
often impatient, likes to impress others, has many talents,
industrious, healthy optimism, waits for the one true love, able to
make quick decisions.
Chestnut Tree (Honesty!) -- of unusual stature, impressive,
well-developed sense of justice, fun to be around, a planner, born
diplomat, can be irritated easily, sensitive of others feelings, hard
worker, sometimes acts superior, feels not understood at times,
fiercely family oriented, very loyal in love, physically fit.
Cypress Tree (Faithfulness) -- strong, muscular, adaptable, takes what
life has to give but doesn't necessarily like it, strives to be
content, optimistic, wants to be financially independent, wants love
and affection, hates loneliness, passionate lover which cannot be
satisfied, faithful, quick-tempered at times, can be unruly and
careless, loves to gain knowledge, needs to be needed.
Elm Tree (Noble-mindedness) -- pleasant shape, tasteful clothes,
modest demands, tends not to forgive mistakes, cheerful, likes to lead
but not to obey, honest and faithful partner, likes making decisions
for others, noble-minded, generous, good sense of humor, practical.
Fig Tree (Sensibility) -- very strong minded, a bit self-willed,
honest, loyal, independent, hates contradiction or arguments, hard
worker when wants to be, loves life and friends, enjoys children and
animals, few sexual relationships, great sense of humor, has artistic
talent and great intelligence.
Fir tree (Mysterious) -- extraordinary taste, handles stress well,
loves anything beautiful, stubborn, tends to care for those close to
them, hard to trust others, yet a social butterfly, likes idleness and
laziness after long demanding hours at work, rather modest, talented,
unselfish, many friends, very reliable.
Hazelnut Tree (Extraordinary) -- charming, sense of humor, very
demanding but can also be very understanding, knows how to make a
lasting impression, active fighter for social causes and politics,
popular, quite moody, sexually oriented, honest, a perfectionist, has
a precise sense of judgment and expects complete fairness.
Hornbeam Tree (Good Taste) -- of cool beauty, cares for its looks and
condition, good taste, is not egoistic, makes life as comfortable as
possible, leads a reasonable and disciplined life, looks for kindness
and acknowledgment in an emotional partner, dreams of unusual lovers,
is seldom happy with its feelings, mistrusts most people, is never
sure of its decisions, very conscientious.
Lime Tree (Doubt) - intelligent, hard working, accepts what life
dishes out, but not before trying to change bad circumstances into
good ones, hates fighting and stress, enjoys getaway vacations, may
appear tough, but is actually soft and relenting, always willing to
make sacrifices for family and friends, has many talents but not
always enough time to use them, can become a complainer, great
leadership qualities, is jealous at times but extremely loyal.
Maple Tree (Independence of Mind) -- no ordinary person, full of
imagination and originality, shy and reserved, ambitious, proud,
self-confident, hungers for new experiences, sometimes nervous, has
many complexities, good memory, learns easily, complicated love life,
wants to impress.
Oak Tree (Brave) -- robust nature, courageous, strong, unrelenting,
independent, sensible, does not like change, keeps its feet on the
ground, person of action.
Olive Tree (Wisdom) -- loves sun, warmth and kind feelings,
reasonable, balanced, avoids aggression and violence, tolerant,
cheerful, calm, well-developed sense of justice, sensitive,
empathetic, free of jealousy, loves to read and the company of
sophisticated people.
Pine Tree (Peacemaker) -- loves agreeable company, craves peace and
harmony, loves to help others, active imagination, likes to write
poetry, not fashion conscious, great compassion, friendly to all,
falls strongly in love but will leave if betrayed or lied to,
emotionally SOFT, low self esteem, needs affection and reassurance.
Poplar Tree (Uncertainty) -- looks very decorative, talented, not very
self-confident, extremely courageous if necessary, needs goodwill and
pleasant surroundings, very choosy, often lonely, great animosity,
great artistic nature, good organizer, tends to lean toward
philosophy, reliable in any situation, takes partnership seriously.
Rowan Tree (Sensitivity) -- full of charm, cheerful, gifted without
egoism, likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest, and even
complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste,
artistic, passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive.
Walnut Tree (Passion) -- unrelenting, strange and full of contrasts,
often egotistic, aggressive, noble, broad horizon, unexpected
reactions, spontaneous, unlimited ambition, no flexibility, difficult
and uncommon partner, not always liked but often admired, ingenious
strategist, very jealous and passionate, no compromise.
Weeping Willow (Melancholy) - likes to be stress free, loves family
life, full of hopes and dreams, attractive, very empathetic, loves
anything beautiful, musically inclined, loves to travel to exotic
places, restless, capricious, honest, can be influenced but is not
easy to live with when pressured, sometimes demanding, good intuition,
suffers in love until they find that one loyal, steadfast partner;
loves to make others laugh.
Dec 23 to Jan 01 Apple Tree
Jan 01 to Jan 11 Fir Tree
Jan 12 to Jan 24 Elm Tree
Jan 25 to Feb 03 Cypress Tree
Feb 04 to Feb 08 Poplar Tree
Feb 09 to Feb 18 Cedar Tree
Feb 19 to Feb 28 Pine Tree
Mar 01 to Mar 10 Weeping Willow Tree
Mar 11 to Mar 20 Lime Tree
Mar 21 (only) Oak Tree
Mar 22 to Mar 31 Hazelnut Tree
Apr 01 to Apr 10 Rowan Tree
Apr 11 to Apr 20 Maple Tree
Apr 21 to Apr 30 Walnut Tree
May 01 to May 14 Poplar Tree
May 15 to May 24 Chestnut Tree
May 25 to Jun 03 Ash Tree
Jun 04 to Jun 13 Hornbeam Tree
Jun 14 to Jun 23 Fig Tree
Jun 24 (only) Birch Tree
Jun 25 to Jul 04 Apple Tree
Jul 05 to Jul 14 Fir Tree
Jul 15 to Jul 25 Elm Tree
Jul 26 to Aug 04 Cypress Tree
Aug 05 to Aug 13 Poplar Tree
Aug 14 to Aug 23 Cedar Tree
Aug 24 to Sep 02 Pine Tree
Sep 03 to Sep 12 Weeping Willow Tree
Sep 13 to Sep 22 Lime Tree
Sep 23 (only) OLIVE Tree
Sep 24 to Oct 03 Hazelnut Tree
Oct 04 to Oct 13 Rowan Tree
Oct 14 to Oct 23 Maple Tree
Oct 24 to Nov 11 Walnut Tree
Nov 12 to Nov 21 Chestnut Tree
Nov 22 to Dec 01 Ash Tree
Dec 02 to Dec 11 Hornbeam Tree
Dec 12 to Dec 21 Fig Tree
Dec 22 (only) Beech Tree
YOUR TREE (in alphabetical order)
Apple Tree (Love) -- quiet and shy at times, lots of charm, appeal,
and attraction, pleasant attitude, flirtatious smile, adventurous,
sensitive, loyal in love, wants to love and be loved, faithful and
tender partner, very generous, many talents, loves children, needs
affectionate partner.
Ash Tree (Ambition) -- extremely attractive, vivacious, impulsive,
demanding, does not care for criticism, ambitious, intelligent,
talented, likes to play with fate, can be very egotistic, reliable,
restless lover, sometimes money rules over the heart, demands
attention, needs love and much emotional support.
Beech Tree (Creative) -- has good taste, concerned about its looks,
materialistic, good organization of life and career, economical, good
leader, takes no unnecessary risks, reasonable, splendid lifetime
companion, keen on keeping fit (diets, sports, etc.).
Birch Tree (Inspiration) -- vivacious, attractive, elegant, friendly,
unpretentious, modest, does not like anything in excess, abhors the
vulgar, loves life in nature and in calm, not very passionate, full of
imagination, little ambition, creates a calm and content atmosphere.
Cedar Tree (Confidence) -- of rare strength, knows how to adapt, likes
unexpected presents, of good health, not in the least shy, tends to
look down on others, self-confident, a great speaker, determined,
often impatient, likes to impress others, has many talents,
industrious, healthy optimism, waits for the one true love, able to
make quick decisions.
Chestnut Tree (Honesty!) -- of unusual stature, impressive,
well-developed sense of justice, fun to be around, a planner, born
diplomat, can be irritated easily, sensitive of others feelings, hard
worker, sometimes acts superior, feels not understood at times,
fiercely family oriented, very loyal in love, physically fit.
Cypress Tree (Faithfulness) -- strong, muscular, adaptable, takes what
life has to give but doesn't necessarily like it, strives to be
content, optimistic, wants to be financially independent, wants love
and affection, hates loneliness, passionate lover which cannot be
satisfied, faithful, quick-tempered at times, can be unruly and
careless, loves to gain knowledge, needs to be needed.
Elm Tree (Noble-mindedness) -- pleasant shape, tasteful clothes,
modest demands, tends not to forgive mistakes, cheerful, likes to lead
but not to obey, honest and faithful partner, likes making decisions
for others, noble-minded, generous, good sense of humor, practical.
Fig Tree (Sensibility) -- very strong minded, a bit self-willed,
honest, loyal, independent, hates contradiction or arguments, hard
worker when wants to be, loves life and friends, enjoys children and
animals, few sexual relationships, great sense of humor, has artistic
talent and great intelligence.
Fir tree (Mysterious) -- extraordinary taste, handles stress well,
loves anything beautiful, stubborn, tends to care for those close to
them, hard to trust others, yet a social butterfly, likes idleness and
laziness after long demanding hours at work, rather modest, talented,
unselfish, many friends, very reliable.
Hazelnut Tree (Extraordinary) -- charming, sense of humor, very
demanding but can also be very understanding, knows how to make a
lasting impression, active fighter for social causes and politics,
popular, quite moody, sexually oriented, honest, a perfectionist, has
a precise sense of judgment and expects complete fairness.
Hornbeam Tree (Good Taste) -- of cool beauty, cares for its looks and
condition, good taste, is not egoistic, makes life as comfortable as
possible, leads a reasonable and disciplined life, looks for kindness
and acknowledgment in an emotional partner, dreams of unusual lovers,
is seldom happy with its feelings, mistrusts most people, is never
sure of its decisions, very conscientious.
Lime Tree (Doubt) - intelligent, hard working, accepts what life
dishes out, but not before trying to change bad circumstances into
good ones, hates fighting and stress, enjoys getaway vacations, may
appear tough, but is actually soft and relenting, always willing to
make sacrifices for family and friends, has many talents but not
always enough time to use them, can become a complainer, great
leadership qualities, is jealous at times but extremely loyal.
Maple Tree (Independence of Mind) -- no ordinary person, full of
imagination and originality, shy and reserved, ambitious, proud,
self-confident, hungers for new experiences, sometimes nervous, has
many complexities, good memory, learns easily, complicated love life,
wants to impress.
Oak Tree (Brave) -- robust nature, courageous, strong, unrelenting,
independent, sensible, does not like change, keeps its feet on the
ground, person of action.
Olive Tree (Wisdom) -- loves sun, warmth and kind feelings,
reasonable, balanced, avoids aggression and violence, tolerant,
cheerful, calm, well-developed sense of justice, sensitive,
empathetic, free of jealousy, loves to read and the company of
sophisticated people.
Pine Tree (Peacemaker) -- loves agreeable company, craves peace and
harmony, loves to help others, active imagination, likes to write
poetry, not fashion conscious, great compassion, friendly to all,
falls strongly in love but will leave if betrayed or lied to,
emotionally SOFT, low self esteem, needs affection and reassurance.
Poplar Tree (Uncertainty) -- looks very decorative, talented, not very
self-confident, extremely courageous if necessary, needs goodwill and
pleasant surroundings, very choosy, often lonely, great animosity,
great artistic nature, good organizer, tends to lean toward
philosophy, reliable in any situation, takes partnership seriously.
Rowan Tree (Sensitivity) -- full of charm, cheerful, gifted without
egoism, likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest, and even
complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste,
artistic, passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive.
Walnut Tree (Passion) -- unrelenting, strange and full of contrasts,
often egotistic, aggressive, noble, broad horizon, unexpected
reactions, spontaneous, unlimited ambition, no flexibility, difficult
and uncommon partner, not always liked but often admired, ingenious
strategist, very jealous and passionate, no compromise.
Weeping Willow (Melancholy) - likes to be stress free, loves family
life, full of hopes and dreams, attractive, very empathetic, loves
anything beautiful, musically inclined, loves to travel to exotic
places, restless, capricious, honest, can be influenced but is not
easy to live with when pressured, sometimes demanding, good intuition,
suffers in love until they find that one loyal, steadfast partner;
loves to make others laugh.
May 19, 2005
Rough Draft
I still don't how to talk about this. Every time I start to write it out, it comes out like I'm a battered housewife, or I'm a martyr, or he's a tortured soul, or he's suffering a breakdown, or something overly dramatic like that. I guess growing up doing community theatre and training throughout high school to be an actor has brought out the melodramatist in me. I'm going to keep working on it, that's for sure. But you'll just have to wait for the story.
During my brief foray at Heart's, I did manage to do a little bit of writing. This summer, I hope to buckle down and start a portfolio of poem poems, and wean myself away from my slam-inspired voice. Amazingly, my non-slam voice and pieces scored much better than my slam oeuvre, so I'm going to start cultivating some work in that style, and become more of a 'read' poet than a 'heard' poet. Here's a rough draft of a poem I wrote while rereading my favorite book, Martin Bauman (or, A Sure Thing). I think I still have to bring out the subtext, but I think you'll get the idea.
During my brief foray at Heart's, I did manage to do a little bit of writing. This summer, I hope to buckle down and start a portfolio of poem poems, and wean myself away from my slam-inspired voice. Amazingly, my non-slam voice and pieces scored much better than my slam oeuvre, so I'm going to start cultivating some work in that style, and become more of a 'read' poet than a 'heard' poet. Here's a rough draft of a poem I wrote while rereading my favorite book, Martin Bauman (or, A Sure Thing). I think I still have to bring out the subtext, but I think you'll get the idea.
I always made it a point to go to him
even though he was a little out of my way
with a smile usually reserved for sundaes or snow days
the only thing keeping me down was my backpack
he had a habit of biting his lower lip
as he glanced between his bangs both ways
suckling from his red flesh
deepened by the coughdrops he consumed
in the way a dancer always walks with grace
or a percussionist never stops tapping
he twisted his wrist as he held the sign
rap-tapping against his khakied thighs
as he was wont to do
back to the front back to the front
his lack of small talk always left me flustered
(a tendency which I wish I had grown out of,
like my fondness for hotdogs or my aversion to greenbeans)
sometimes all it took was an eyeshift
and he would walk out past the curb
his bright orange shocking agains the asphalt
with a simple hand gesture and head movement
he sent me on my way
even now I wait for the cock of the head
and cross only when I'm told.
May 17, 2005
Someone up there must like me.
Even though I'm having an emotionally taxing week, it's nice to know that the week I have off before I restart my dead-end job is the week that Bravo decides to run a weeklong marathon of my favorite tv show.
14 episodes of the West Wing a day?
Yeah, that helps.
14 episodes of the West Wing a day?
Yeah, that helps.
May 16, 2005
So.
I'm back at home. Yes, home.
Long story short:
Heart and I tried living together this summer. It lasted less than 48 hours.
There's a really big blog post coming, but I'm just not up for it at the moment.
Right now I wish I were four years old so I could climb up on someone's lap and tell them all my problems, and everthing could be solved with a cookie and a bandaid.
Long story short:
Heart and I tried living together this summer. It lasted less than 48 hours.
There's a really big blog post coming, but I'm just not up for it at the moment.
Right now I wish I were four years old so I could climb up on someone's lap and tell them all my problems, and everthing could be solved with a cookie and a bandaid.
May 13, 2005
Anyone else glad
that Dr Carter is finally leaving ER? The Africa subplots always bored me, and he was always my least favorite doctor on the show.
And speaking of finally leaving, I move out this afternoon. I don't know when regular blogging will continue.
And on a related note,
And speaking of finally leaving, I move out this afternoon. I don't know when regular blogging will continue.
And on a related note,
::angst::
May 12, 2005
Three Thoughts
1. The new iPod ad, which features the silhouettes rollerskating to the new Gorillaz song, is fucking sweet. You should all go over there and watch it.
2. Heart's guilty pleasure is financial advice from Suze Orman, who's blog I just found. That's so much better than my fond feelings toward King of the Hill. He's getting me addicted to her show.
3. Oh yeah, I'm done with finals. Huzzah for me.
2. Heart's guilty pleasure is financial advice from Suze Orman, who's blog I just found. That's so much better than my fond feelings toward King of the Hill. He's getting me addicted to her show.
3. Oh yeah, I'm done with finals. Huzzah for me.
May 11, 2005
May 10, 2005
He's a lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed.
Sartre wrote that hell is other people. Dante's hell was a frozen spiral. The Greeks and Romans thought that the afterlife wasn't much different that this world. Latter-day Saints believe in a permament eternal emptiness for sinners. The Bible speaks of lakes, rivers, and pits of fire and darkness. Japanese and Chinese versions of hell include intricate politicking.
I don't know if this morning's final counts as hell, but it sure wasn't fun.
There are few things that I should have to think about at 7:45 in the morning. Other than hitting the snooze button, I shouldn't have to do anything that early.
But no. I had a final this morning, as the sun was rising. To make matters worse, the final was on the top of a hill on the other side of campus. I had to leave at 7:15, which meant I had to get up at 6:45. There are days I go to BED at 6 in the morning. It fucking sucked.
There is no reason to write an essay proving or disproving Heidegger using Restoration Comedies, especially before 8 in the morning. Hell, I'm barely able to pronouce Heidegger before noon, let alone think critically about his theory of external tools serving as extensions of the self and how it evokes a self-conscious examination of the failings of the human body.
We all know Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table, and that goes double at 7:45 in the morning.
I don't know if this morning's final counts as hell, but it sure wasn't fun.
There are few things that I should have to think about at 7:45 in the morning. Other than hitting the snooze button, I shouldn't have to do anything that early.
But no. I had a final this morning, as the sun was rising. To make matters worse, the final was on the top of a hill on the other side of campus. I had to leave at 7:15, which meant I had to get up at 6:45. There are days I go to BED at 6 in the morning. It fucking sucked.
There is no reason to write an essay proving or disproving Heidegger using Restoration Comedies, especially before 8 in the morning. Hell, I'm barely able to pronouce Heidegger before noon, let alone think critically about his theory of external tools serving as extensions of the self and how it evokes a self-conscious examination of the failings of the human body.
We all know Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table, and that goes double at 7:45 in the morning.
May 9, 2005
Foreign Language Meme
1. Take the lyrics to a favourite song.
2. Go to Google Language Tools, tranlate the lyrics into German, then from German to French, and finally from French back into English.
3. Post the results verbatim.
4. Invite friends to guess the song based on the interesting new lyrics.
(It's finals, guys. I don't know how good my posts are going to be this week.)
2. Go to Google Language Tools, tranlate the lyrics into German, then from German to French, and finally from French back into English.
3. Post the results verbatim.
4. Invite friends to guess the song based on the interesting new lyrics.
Your mother in Whirl, it did not receive them, if you are a boy or a Hey girl, baby, your hair is many Hey, baby, can evening expired being this wants me is sure to you, and I can be able to dance it all us, and we look at you divine of volumes of love, if they play it, wish you strongly more, you placed to him initially to the bottom and you, with legends me you viscous thing, you were false placed it on agitators of agitation, you have your agitator of agitation of behaviour, your face are violently one how it could can wish? hot tramp, I to love you thus! It your behaviour violently your face is not enough a confusion, to receive you could, but the test is not enough you gear boxes has and a control of phase received your lines of key word and a handle ludes you if, count gezerrissen, they wanted to be the rights there and I am your behaviour dear you a young success, because your face is thus a confusion, as they could know? Me, how did they say could know? In more what you would like to know child of Calamitys, child, the child Where'd who you would like to go? can I make for you? to appear like you to be there too, because you are your behaviour gezerrissen to have violently and your face a confusion which is thus your face a confusion, as they could know? How could it know?
(It's finals, guys. I don't know how good my posts are going to be this week.)
May 6, 2005
Blue, blue jeans I wear them every day
I had a pair of jeans with a small tear on the back right pocket. It wasn't much, maybe a half inch. I would barely flash a small, miniscule really, chunk of underwear fabric. Since I match my tshirt to my underwear, no one really noticed. I thought it hot.
But one of my friends warned me how the rip could grow and then where would I be? She had some other mending work to do on one of her jeans, and offered to patch my pair up while she was on a sewing kick. I reluctantly relented.
The weather was gorgeous out yesterday. Probably the best weather we've had all spring: not a cloud in the sky, little to no wind, flowers in full bloom, all that jazz. For our last discussion section, the class decided to hold class outside. And by the class, I mean that five minutes before the class was to start, we wrote a note on the board saying that we were holding class outside, with or without the TA.
He, unfortunately, showed up, and we held the review section in a grassy knoll across the street. It was nice; the trucks passing by were a bit loud, but it was nice to grab some rays now, before I start spending every possible waking minute studying for my finals (which are next week) and packing to move home for the summer (move out by Sunday).
When class sort of fizzled out (early, no less), I stood up and reached around to check that I didn't have any grass stains on my ass. I looked and found out that I didn't have an ass. Well, I have an ass (a nice one, as Heart is fond of telling me), but my jeans weren't there to cover it. From the top of my back pocket down to past the bottom of it, all you could see is a bright flash of white fabric, exposing most of my right cheek.
(Despite my underwear pseudo-fetish, Heart still prefers me in tightie-whities.)
Fortunately, my messenger bag (or my 'fag bag,' as Heart calls it) covers my ass extraordinarily well. Well, usually it covers my ass too well, from Heart's point of view, but this time hiding my nice round bubble butt was a good thing. It's a good thing that it was my last class of the day; I was able to head right home without anyone noticing. Well, I have no idea if anyone noticed, but I didn't see anyone pointing, staring, or laughing.
I have good news and I have bad news.
The good news is that that friend is going home for this weekend (her sister is graduating) and she's taking my jeans home to fix it with her mom's fancy sewing machine. The bad news is that I gave the jeans to her before I had a chance to take pictures of me with my ass hanging out.
Sorry guys. Maybe next time.
But one of my friends warned me how the rip could grow and then where would I be? She had some other mending work to do on one of her jeans, and offered to patch my pair up while she was on a sewing kick. I reluctantly relented.
The weather was gorgeous out yesterday. Probably the best weather we've had all spring: not a cloud in the sky, little to no wind, flowers in full bloom, all that jazz. For our last discussion section, the class decided to hold class outside. And by the class, I mean that five minutes before the class was to start, we wrote a note on the board saying that we were holding class outside, with or without the TA.
He, unfortunately, showed up, and we held the review section in a grassy knoll across the street. It was nice; the trucks passing by were a bit loud, but it was nice to grab some rays now, before I start spending every possible waking minute studying for my finals (which are next week) and packing to move home for the summer (move out by Sunday).
When class sort of fizzled out (early, no less), I stood up and reached around to check that I didn't have any grass stains on my ass. I looked and found out that I didn't have an ass. Well, I have an ass (a nice one, as Heart is fond of telling me), but my jeans weren't there to cover it. From the top of my back pocket down to past the bottom of it, all you could see is a bright flash of white fabric, exposing most of my right cheek.
(Despite my underwear pseudo-fetish, Heart still prefers me in tightie-whities.)
Fortunately, my messenger bag (or my 'fag bag,' as Heart calls it) covers my ass extraordinarily well. Well, usually it covers my ass too well, from Heart's point of view, but this time hiding my nice round bubble butt was a good thing. It's a good thing that it was my last class of the day; I was able to head right home without anyone noticing. Well, I have no idea if anyone noticed, but I didn't see anyone pointing, staring, or laughing.
I have good news and I have bad news.
The good news is that that friend is going home for this weekend (her sister is graduating) and she's taking my jeans home to fix it with her mom's fancy sewing machine. The bad news is that I gave the jeans to her before I had a chance to take pictures of me with my ass hanging out.
Sorry guys. Maybe next time.
May 4, 2005
Misc. Ques.
4. Obiter Dictum?
Obiter Dictum means 'by the way' or a passing remark. It's Latin, one of the many languages I took in high school.
3. Skimmed, 2%, or homo?
Homo, of course. But after that, 2%
2.Why are most people so bitchy?
Because most people are ugly. And fat.
1.Most interesting penis you've ever seen?
Giggle giggle.
Obiter Dictum means 'by the way' or a passing remark. It's Latin, one of the many languages I took in high school.
3. Skimmed, 2%, or homo?
Homo, of course. But after that, 2%
2.Why are most people so bitchy?
Because most people are ugly. And fat.
1.Most interesting penis you've ever seen?
Giggle giggle.
May 3, 2005
Cogito Ergo Cito
It's the last full week of classes, so there are a lot of final projects and papers due this week in class. It sucks, hardcore. However, in my Western Culture class (a glorified History of Science course), we had something a little different planned.
One of their grad students double-majored in theatre and some sort of science (I don't remember nor care), and consquently dresses like dead philosophers and scientists giving guest lectures as the dead white guys. It pays the bills, I guess, and it works out with his thesis or something. I don't know. It's kind of hokey, sure, but it's much better than the TA, whom I find to be god-awful and confusing.
Unfortunately, now that I'm starting to study for finals, all I can think of is damn, Descartes had the hottest ass I've seen in the longest time.
One of their grad students double-majored in theatre and some sort of science (I don't remember nor care), and consquently dresses like dead philosophers and scientists giving guest lectures as the dead white guys. It pays the bills, I guess, and it works out with his thesis or something. I don't know. It's kind of hokey, sure, but it's much better than the TA, whom I find to be god-awful and confusing.
Unfortunately, now that I'm starting to study for finals, all I can think of is damn, Descartes had the hottest ass I've seen in the longest time.
May 2, 2005
House Party (question 4)
4. You're having an open house party and I'm invited. As I arrive, I notice that the (front) door (to your place, flat, suite, room) is kept wide open by a book, which book is it?
Through some sort of miracle, this imaginary dinner party comes into being (though I think I would make a few swaps; Tennesse Williams and Mae West don't quite hold my attention as much as David Bowie and Jennifer Saunders). While I'm finishing primping in the mirror with my significant other (who ever that may be), I decide to prop open the door, with a note saying to come on in and make themselves a drink. I reach over to the bookshelf (I love old books).
I reach down, and grab this monstrosity of a book, House of Leaves and throw it in front of the door, propping it up. To paraphase Dorothy Parker (who will be attending the dinner party), this is not a book to be tossed aside lightly, but thrown with great force. It's an ugly disgusting book for ugly disgusting people. I won't even bother to give you a synopsis, but it's fucked up and way too long.
The author's sister, Poe, released a soundtrack album which I am fond of. That's probably the only reason why I bought that damn book. I'd never read it, so at least it has some value as a doorstop. Which is the only thing that book is good for.
Through some sort of miracle, this imaginary dinner party comes into being (though I think I would make a few swaps; Tennesse Williams and Mae West don't quite hold my attention as much as David Bowie and Jennifer Saunders). While I'm finishing primping in the mirror with my significant other (who ever that may be), I decide to prop open the door, with a note saying to come on in and make themselves a drink. I reach over to the bookshelf (I love old books).
I reach down, and grab this monstrosity of a book, House of Leaves and throw it in front of the door, propping it up. To paraphase Dorothy Parker (who will be attending the dinner party), this is not a book to be tossed aside lightly, but thrown with great force. It's an ugly disgusting book for ugly disgusting people. I won't even bother to give you a synopsis, but it's fucked up and way too long.
The author's sister, Poe, released a soundtrack album which I am fond of. That's probably the only reason why I bought that damn book. I'd never read it, so at least it has some value as a doorstop. Which is the only thing that book is good for.
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