My away message.

Had the villain in "The Wizard of Oz"
been an elitist snot rather than a
snarly old lady in greenface, the
movie's "I'm melting!" scene might
have looked like I do now.

Cat on the Wall

I heard our song on the radio
It wasn't long before I think of you
Can't get the sound outta my head
Don't look now it's coming round again

I saved your voice from the telephone
I play it back on the message machine
It really sounds like you're having fun
I'm going out into the midday sun

Come night, I'm gonna step outside
Take a walk, I'm gonna clear my mind
The radio, still playing our song
You got me jumping like a cat on the wall

Turn up the radio

They play the radio in my dreams
Takes me back to when I was 17
Dancing in circles on the kitchen floor
I'll play this song 'til I can't take anymore

-PJ Harvey

This is me.

One nation under a groove,
Getting ME down just for the funk of it
One nation and we're on the move,
Nothin can stop us now

I'm in a funk. Not a P-Funk, mind you, but you get the idea.

I've tried many things. I have tried to dance my way out of my constrictions. I have pigged out on many fattening foods. I even watched a fucking Audrey Tatou movie and still, if this were a cartoon, my ears would be emitting little wisps of smoke, I'd have a raincloud hovering over my head, and my guardian devil would be beating the shit out of my guardian angel on my right shoulder.

I could elaborate on why I'm down, but then again, I'm posting on a Friday night. That should be explanation enough.

Fuck.

Oh I miss these days

Normally I love a good conspiracy theory.

Redneck zombie aliens shot JFK?
          Sure, why not?
Elvis lives, is a construction worker?
          Darn tootin, he is.
Princess Diana was carrying Boy George's love child?
          And I bet that's just the cutest lil fetus.
Wacko Jacko weds Brooke Shields in Vegas?
          They made a really cute couple.
Britney Spears eats her backup singers in Satanic ritual?
          I mean, who hasn't?
Biggie and Tupac: alive and married in San Fran?
          Eat that, Eminem
There's a vast left wing conspiracy out to control the media?
          You don't say?

These are all fine and dandy, but the thing about this one about Nick Berg is that I wouldn't be surprised if it were true.

Boys kissing is sexy love.

Boys kissing is sexy love.
I finally got around to reading "Brokeback Mountain," the short story of Annie Proux's off of which what is sure to be my new favorite movie is based. I mean, it's hard to go wrong with Jake and Heath making out and doing the nasty. There's even rumors of some nudity. Hells yeah.

I've been meaning to read the short story for a while now; I'm not a fan of Proulx's, so I've been putting it off. I've had the book checked out from the library since I returned home, and it's been lingering on the shelf ever since. I always seem to check out another book that caught my attention more. The story's the only one of Proulx's I actually finished; you can take that as a back-handed compliment, if you like.

Unfortunately, it looks like Jake is a bottom, which isn't going to help me out with any wet dreams. <TMI> I'm versatile, but if I were given the choice, I'd really want Jake to fuck me, as opposed to me him. I bet he'd make really great faces when he's getting fucked though, so I guess it's worth it. </TMI> I don't want to spoil the ending for those of you who aren't going to read the book, but let's just say that Brokeback Mountain is surprisingly close to Laramie, Wyoming: infer from that what you will.

All in all, I'm getting more and more excited for this movie to come out, and hopefully start a new wave of actual gay cinema. I mean, there's finally going to be a gay tv station, so I guess the gays are moving up in the world. Good for us.

3 quick things.

I updated my biography, in case anyone is interested.

Also. I stumbled onto George Bush's Amazon.com wishlist. It's mildy amusing, but I still wish there were some kinky republican sex guides or something. The comments are cute, though.

Most important. I found my ring. It was underneath the computer keyboard. Don't ask me how it got there. I'm just twitterpated that I've found it, and it renders moot the mix cd of the last post. Oh well.

I believe in the healing power of mixes

This is the "Holy shit it's been five months why the fuck aren't I over you yet I guess I'd better make an angry mix cd in hopes that the anger will rub off on me and I can finally get back on with my life, even though I still miss you and that makes me really pathetic" mix cd that I worked on this evening. It's a bit too long and I'm not positive of the order yet-- consider this a rough draft. I can't find any blank cds so I'll have to go to the store tomorrow; if you have any suggestions as to other songs that will fit in, leave a comment and I'll see what I can do.

1  My Friend Peter-Alkaline Trio
2  Be a Man- Hole
3  Hope It Felt Good- Nikka Costa
4  Why I Write Such Good Songs- Kleenex Girl Wonder
5  No Girl So Sweet-PJ Harvey
6  The Wretched- Nine Inch Nails
7  You Dumb Fuck- Crackout
8  Tainted Love- Shades Apart
9  Fuck You (An Ode to No One)- Smashing Pumpkins
10 Write Me Back, Fucker- Sleater Kinney
11 Song For the Dumped- Ben Folds Five
12 You're So Last Summer-Taking Back Sunday
13 Another Piece of My Heart- Janis Joplin
14 You Oughta Know- Alanis Morrissette
15 Ugly Kid Joe- I Hate Everything (About You)
16 Fagetarian and Dyke- Team Dresch
17 I Hope You Die- Bloodhound Gang
18 Caught Out There- Kelis
19 Bye Bye Bye- Further Seems Forever
20 Vow- Garbage
21 Fuck It (Don’t Want You Back)- Eamon
22 Rocks Tonic Juice Magic- Saves the Day
23 Break Up Song- Veruca Salt

Ode to Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde was the greatest fag who ever lived. (Speaking of great fags, Jonno made the title link way back when. Oh those were the days.) I'm not a big fan of the word, but I think Oscar would have called himself that, were he still around.

Everyone who's anyone is a fan of his work, it seems, be it as a novelist, poet, playwright, or from having something in every single quip and quotation collection possible. Most people don't realize that Oscar's first claim to fame was on the lecture circuit, where he expounded upon his aestheticism. Right now, I'm reading a collection of his essays and speeches, and one essay in particular stuck me as oddly topical. It seems like the entire thing is talking about gay bloggers.

I mean, wouldn't that be marvelous? Oscar Wilde, greatest gay writer of all time, with his own blog? I don't use the word marvelous very often, but I think this qualifies as a need, not a want, to use the word.

I've taken my favourite epigrams and quips from that essay (Phrases And Philosophies For The Use Of The Young), and compiled a list of the ones I think have an eerie resonance with today's blogging scene. Even though I'm not in the 'scene,' per se, but I think if I were on the list with the rest of the in-crowd, these would be pertinent.

The first duty in life is to be as artificial as possible. What the second duty is no one has as yet discovered.

Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others.

Dullness is the coming of age of seriousness.

In all unimportant matters, style, not sincerity, is the essential. In all important matters, style, not sincerity, is the essential.

Nothing that actually occurs is of the smallest importance.

Only the shallow know themselves.

One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art.

It is only the superficial qualities that last. Man's deeper nature is soon found out.

The condition of perfection is idleness: the aim of perfection is youth.

To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance.

All right. So maybe some have to do with just being gay and fabulous than with being gay with a fabulous blog, but still you've got to admit that Oscar was ahead of his time with a lot of these. Or maybe we're still just trying to catch up to his ideals on life. Point to ponder.

::edit:: Apparently he was a true fag to the end, despite claims of a 11th hour conversion. His alleged last words were "Either that wallpaper goes, or I do."

Still no ring, alas.

(My previous post tells the whole sordid, sad tale. But since the last few posts are kind of mopey, I decided to fake a happy face, which gets to be a bit obnoxious by the end.)

I still may be down and out because of the ring But! I did drown my sorrows in the sixth season of Sex and the City, so I'm slightly less frazzled about the whole thing. Charlotte just got married for the second time. In all the quizilla quizes, she's always my alter ego, so I'm happy for her.

Congratulations! You are Charlotte.

(from another quiz with an ugly graphic so I edited out that sucka)

You are Charlotte. Beautiful, shy and girly. All you really want is a huge wedding and a wonderful husband but you are slowly working your way through the male population in your quest to find mr right, not that you'd readily admit it! You always end up with mr perfect...but.. and the but is usually some kind of bizarre or disappointing bedroom activity.

Also! The Fox Academy of Rocking Out is now more or less fully up and operational. We are now accepting applications for the 2004/2005 school year. Mention my name and you get a discount. Maybe. Depends on how pretty you are.

Most importantly! Morrissey on Kilborn! All week! Stay up and watch it! Your co-workers all think you're grumpy anyway, so you might as well stay up! Look at the excessive amounts of exclamation points I'm using! This means that it's important that you watch! Or it might just mean I'm turning into an obsessive fangirl! Either way, I'm done now!

Have you seen my ring?

Exactly five months ago, my boyfriend and I broke up. Well, five months and one day ago, to be exact. He wouldn't be so mean as to break up with me on Christmas Eve. That would be wrong and cruel. Christmas Eve Eve, however is a different story.

A while back, on my birthday, he gave me a ring. It was right after we saw this movie, which I wouldn't recommend. There's a part where one of the (for lack of better term) inmates is not allowed to speak to her son, so she speaks to her ring and hopes that the sound will travel to her son's ring, which he wears around his neck. (She's cognitively disabled in the movie.) Well, we were due to leave for our prospective colleges in a few weeks, and he gave me a ring and said that whenever I needed him I could talk to the ring and I'm dumb enough to believe that. I'm sure this sounds hokey and stupid, but at the time it was really sweet.

And while I never actually spoke to the ring in hopes that he would hear me, I did start wearing it every waking moment, and even slept with it on for a while. That thing rarely, if ever, left my fingers. (I can't find a decent picture online of it, otherwise I would have done a mock up of a "Missing Dog" poster.)

But now it's gone. I took it off this morning when I was putting clothing in the laundry (it's a little big, and sometimes it slides when it's underwater) and I thought I put it in my pocket, but I'm not sure. I don't know where it is, and I've spent most of the day trying to find the damn thing. I feel naked without it.

One major reason why I'm freaking out is that I'm still not over him. He is the guy I was talking about here, along with dozens of other allusions throughout this blog. I still sleep with a body pillow and pretend it's him next to me at night. If he called right now, and asked me to come over, I'd be on the first plane.

I haven't spoken to him since we broke up (well, I did get one mass email when he moved with his new address and phone number, and he IMed me once in January to see if I could do a favor for him), and it gets less and less likely that he's going to IM or email me and ask me back.

It was really hard for me when we broke up; I couldn't listen to the mix cds he made for me, I couldn't watch some movies that were on TV because we had seen them together, I couldn't go shopping at the grocery store near his house. I'd like to think that I wasn't a complete wreck, but in hindsight, I probably was. I mean, I wrote this post, so I must have been really out of it. Hell, the first month of this blog is crap. I must have really been a wreck.

Even now, the ring is the only thing that I can bring myself to actually use of his without getting all misty-eyed.

I really, Really, REALLY need to find that ring.