"let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm" king lear: ii, iv

The view from my window this evening:


You can't really see the snow, but generally that building in the background is clear as day; the fogginess is actually snow.

I actually love stormy days like this. There's nothing any of us can do about it but deal with it, and somehow that appeals to me. I had something I was supposed to do this afternoon, and it got postponed, and what are ya gonna do?

" 'tis a good dog" merry wives of windsor: i, i

If you have not already seen this video entitled "The Barney Cam: HOLIDAY IN THE NATIONAL PARKS," I cannot stress enough how important it is that you immediately go and view it. (The link to the video is on the right side of the page, where you choose the format you want.)

Originally I was going to just post this without comment, allowing it to speak for itself. But then about halfway through, I started having some questions. Questions like, "Is Tony Blair's job search really going so poorly that he needs to take this kind of work?"

And, "How long did Laura have to argue with the Twins before they agreed to do this thing?"

And, "why is our Director of National Parks British?" (not that I have anything against the Brits - I love them, actually, but it seems odd to me that there's no American qualified for the job.)

And, "Are things going well enough in the world that our President has time for this kind of thing now? Why didn't I know that?"

And perhaps most importantly, "Alan Jackson? Seriously? Alan Jackson??"

It will be difficult for you to get through this whole video, but try, because it's important that you see the "blooper" that appears after the credits.

I'd love to know what the 4 readers of this blog think of all of this.

"thou liest, most ignorant monster" the tempest: iii, ii

I haven't posted in over a month, but reading this article on CNN left me so astonished that I had to put it up.

NEW YORK (CNN) -- A Muslim man jumped to the aid of three Jewish subway riders after they were attacked by a group of young people who objected to one of the Jews saying "Happy Hanukkah," a spokeswoman for the three said Wednesday.

The New York Police Department's Hate Crimes Task Force is investigating Friday's incident on the Q train.

Friday's altercation on the Q train began when somebody yelled out "Merry Christmas," to which rider Walter Adler responded, "Happy Hanukkah," said Toba Hellerstein.

"Almost immediately, you see the look in this guy's face like I've called his mother something," Adler told CNN affiliate WABC.

Two women who were with a group of 10 rowdy people then began to verbally assault Adler's companions with anti-Semitic language, Hellerstein said.

One member of the group allegedly yelled, "Oh, Hanukkah. That's the day that the Jews killed Jesus," she said.

When Adler tried to intercede, a male member of the group punched him, she said.

Another passenger, Hassan Askari -- a Muslim student from Bangladesh -- came to Adler's aid, and the group began physically and verbally assaulting him, Hellerstein said. (continued)

"Oh, Hanukkah. That's the day the Jews killed Jesus." Seriously??

SERIOUSLY???

Look, I'm not religious, but all in all, I think I have a pretty upbeat moral outlook. And one thing that seems clear to me here is that, if, when uttering a seasonal greeting that generally implies good wishes, you are so easily turned to hate and bile by someone else uttering an alternative seasonal greeting with similar good wishes, you weren't truly using your seasonal greeting for its intended purpose. You were using it to be an asshole.

Here's what I seriously just cannot get my head around, and maybe it's because I don't believe in any "The One" true religion myself: Even if you believe you have The One Truth, why would someone believing that their differing belief is the One True one be so threatening to you? Is it because you're unsure of your own beliefs? Is it because you're a fucking moron? I'm leaning heavily towards option B.

And furthermore, if you're going to be an intolerant asshole, why not at least be well-informed about it, and not yell out a dumbass, idiotic comment such as the one about Hanukkah being the day the Jews killed Jesus. That's just plain thick, on every level.

In the end, it just depresses the shit out of me to be trying to enjoy the Goodwill Toward Men part of the secular version of Christmas I observe and to read about people - people who supposedly actually believe the other parts of this holiday - being such effing pricks.

"commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors" trolius and cressida: i, iii

Happy Halloween, kids. This short use to scare the willies out of me as a kid. Enjoy!

"a strange fellow here" pt. 2 troilus and cressida: iii, iii

On Friday V. asked me if I could take care of going down to the Apple store near us and picking up the new OS, Leopard, for our computers. No problem. It's a little bit of a big deal, I thought, so I'll get there a touch before it becomes available at six, like at 5:45.

So I arrive at 5:45 to find a line of people that is no joke like 200 people long. At first I thought it was only 50 people long until I looked a little more carefully to see that it had wound its way around a mall kiosk selling Dead Sea Salt beauty products (their employees' sales tactic seems to be to wait until a girl walks by and then timidly approach her, saying "Can I ask you a question?" I've never found out what the question they want to ask is because I usually say something like "oh, no, sorry, I'm in a big hurry," even if I'm walking at a snail's pace).

But I digress. So I join this line and stand there for a few minutes. The dude in front of me turns around and looks at me a couple times and gives me a little smile; I respond with a polite tight-lipped smile of my own. Finally, he addresses me.

"Here to buy the new OS?"

I look at him for a moment to see if he's for real. I am, after all, standing in a line fully 200 fricking people long, a line of people who are ostensibly all here for the same, single purpose of purchasing the new OS.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm standing in line," I say, finally.

He nods. Then a moment of silence, and then it suddenly strikes me to return the question. "Are you?"

"No," he says, matter-of-factly. "I'm gonna check it out, but I'm not going to buy it tonight."

I look at him for a moment in bewilderment.

"I'm just here for the experience," he explains.

Right, of course. The experience of standing in a line of 200 people for 45 minutes on a Friday night. What else is there to do?

"a strange fellow here" troilus and cressida: iii, iii

The All Children's Theatre, which I mentioned earlier, got some nice press in today's local paper. It's great to see such a nice write-up. The print edition had some nice other photos as well.

Things are coming together nicely for the Gala. I have my first rehearsal for the Empire Revue tomorrow evening after work. I actually got a little ahead on my schoolwork last night. It's been a pretty good couple of days from that standpoint. And it's finally feeling like fall. I think I might make a stew later this week. MMM MM good!

I was waiting for a bus this afternoon after class; I had changed into my street clothes and looked, I don't know, ok, I guess. And this dude walks by me, this young dude, like 22 maybe, and goes "Excuse me, miss, could I get your number?" ("Excuse me, miss"?! I guess at least he didn't say "ma'am".)

I just looked at him somewhat incredulously. He looked back at me with this almost shy look on his face, like he was really hoping this forthright approach would be effective. He goes "nah, you don't want to, huh." "No, not really." "Ok, have a good one." And he sauntered off.

I just don't understand what goes through people's heads sometimes.

"this is mere madness" hamlet: v, i

Here's how I know that I'm not quite right in the head all the time.

This morning I text messaged a friend I knew was dealing with something unpleasant. "How're you doing?" I texted.

About 5 minutes later I got a text message back:
"Fine thanks."

And rather than thinking to myself "Oh, good, she's 'fine thanks'," what I thought was "Is she mad at me? 'Fine thanks'? What does that mean? I think she's pissed at me for something. Did I say something wrong??"

I somehow managed to read into the phrase "Fine, thanks." In a text message.

But wait, it gets better:

So this afternoon, I texted someone else. I said "How about a movie tonight?"

Ten minutes later I received the following:
"Sure."

"'SURE'?!" I thought. "What have I done to make him mad?"

I don't know what answer I would have preferred. Maybe "yeah, that sounds fun" would have made me feel less insecure. But I don't know. There's a distinct possibility I would have read something into that too. "'That sounds fun?' I think he's being sarcastic!"

I'm going to go ahead and chalk it up to stress. I'm kind of behind on my homework for school this week, but besides that, I am working on a couple of projects for a benefit gala I'm on the planning comittee for, which I am, of course, behind on (this is me we're talking about here). In addition to that, I am also gearing up to stage manage a monthly show at AS220 called the Empire Revue, and as much as I am looking forward to it, I'm quite nervous as well. Plus I also just became a board member for the All Children's Theater, a group I was a member of all through middle and high school, and so I'm starting to think about all that that will entail. Not to mention that I need to start pulling something together for my school externship, and the fact that the holidays are fast approaching and I am going to get slammed at work here pretty soon.

All in all, I'm not that surprised that my mind is a little cuckoo right now.

Still. I see no need to read between the lines in text messages that are, let's face it, less than one line long. There's no "between" there.

This Australian PSA made me feel a lot better though:

"to hazard all our lives in one small boat!" king henry vi, part i: iv, vi

Auuugh I just find it hard to get on here and write much lately. There's always some kind of skullduggery going on at the bus stop or on the bus that I could write about, but after awhile, it just gets dull. Blah blah blah, agressive driver. Blah blah blah, disruptive passenger. All right, all right, we get it, there's wackos on the bus!!

What else is new. I've been taking a rowing class, which has been a lot of fun. The class is a gift I got from V. for my birthday. It's been a great experience and something I've wanted to try for quite a while. If you live in a town with a river where you can learn to row, I recommend it!! V. and I can't seem to help talking about "Oxford Blues" more these days though; that's an unexpected side effect of the activity. Go figure.

Oh, I don't want to forget to give a big shoutout to my sis down in ABQ who had a birthday and got engaged all in a 2 day span! Congratulations!!!

So, I've got class tomorrow so that's pretty awesome. Surprisingly, I've actually been keeping up with my work so far. It's like I'm a different person. I don't even know mySELF anymore. So it's 9:30 on a Saturday and my big plans for the evening involve 1) getting ready to go to bed and then 2) going to bed. Let's hope the scoundrels down on the street engaging in WaterFire revelry will cooperate and not be too boistrous as I attempt to sleep fitfully. Based on what I hear outside right now, things are not looking up for The Kid.


Meanwhile there is a giant fish-death happening here in Providence, I guess due to the drought we've been having. Apparently there's not enough oxygen in the water and so the fish are all just kicking the bucket left and right. This afternoon I watched probably 5 or 6 fish depart this world right before my eyes in the span of about 15 minutes, and there were dozens more floating belly-up all around them. It was a pretty depressing side note to an otherwise pleasant walk along the river. Oh, also, the super-creepy hot October weather (mid 80s!) put a bit of a damper on things. I don't think I've ever been uncomfortably warm wearing only a tank top and jeans in October before this year. Just FYI, if I see any birds flying North instead of South in the next week, I'm going to be packing a bag and heading for the hills.

"the play's the thing" hamlet: ii, ii

Here's a catalog of some of the interactions I've had in the last couple of days. They will appear, in an homage to my favorite person, V., in the form of short plays.

1. The Watchtower

Scene: The Kennedy Plaza outdoor bus terminal. Monday morning; commuters are starting to line up at their various boarding areas. A thirtyish woman dressed in chef's pants and a tshirt, Nicky, stands slightly apart from the other waiting people in her boarding area. She is on her cell phone to her mother, speaking quietly about something that seems important and emotional. Her words cannot be heard by those around her, but she is clearly on the phone.

An older woman, Serena, approaches. She is carrying leaflets and magazines.

SERENA (to Nicky): Would you like a copy of The Watchtower, dear?
NICKY (into her phone): Excuse me just a sec, Mom. (To Serena) I'm sorry, not now, I'm on the phone.

Nicky returns to her call. Serena's face, which has until now been a mask of pleasantness, twists into an ugly grimace.

SERENA (brandishing the magazine, agressively): Take it!!
NICKY (just as agressively): No, I don't want it!
SERENA (shaking the magazine at Nicky so that it hits her hand): TAKE IT!!
NICKY: NO! Not now! (moving away from Serena, who wanders off down the street, her face rearranged back to the pleasant expression) JESUS fucking CHRIST!! Fucking Jehovahs!!

BLACKOUT

2. Once You Pop ...

Scene: The bus into downtown Providence. Nicky, a thirtyish woman wearing chef's pants and a tshirt, sits along a rear bench seat. She has a few grocery bags with her; she's picked up a few things for supper after her long day at work, as well as a snack of potato chips.

The bus stops. A young man, Jeffrey, boards the bus and sits on the opposite side of the bench Nicky is on. He sprawls out and stretches his arm across the back of the seat; he is not, strictly speaking, encroaching on Nicky's personal space, but he's treading a fine line, considering he is a perfect stranger to her.

Nicky reaches into her shopping bag and pulls out her partially consumed potato chips, and pops a few into her mouth.

Jeffrey reaches over and taps Nicky on the shoulder; it's easy for him to do so since his hand is already up on her seat back.

JEFFREY (to Nicky): Yo, could I get some of those?
NICKY (taken aback): I-I'm sorry??
JEFFREY: Could I get some of those? (indicates the chips)
NICKY: Wwellll, there's not very much left .... (she trails off at this point, meaning to indicate that since there is not very much left, she doesn't intend to share any of it with seemingly well-nourished boys.)
JEFFREY: Oh, that's aiight; I'll just take the rest.
NICKY: (taken even more aback): I'm sorry??
JEFFREY: I'll just take the rest.
NICKY: (near spluttering in disbelief): Well, actually, no, I don't think you'll just take the rest because this is my snack and I'm hungry and I'm going to eat the rest!!

Mercifully, the bus pulls up to the stop at this point. The passengers all stand and begin to de-bus, Nicky among them, although she is still one stop away from her destination. She exits the bus, not looking behind her once.

BLACKOUT


3. Strangers in the Night

SCENE: The Mall. Friday night; the place is loaded with adolescents. They're loud, boistrous, obnoxious -- all the things that make a childless 30-year-old-woman sigh a breath of relief.

A thirtyish woman, Nicky, wearing a tank top and jeans, approaches the escalator. It can be admitted that she looks cute, but no cuter than usual. She just threw this outfit on quickly before leaving the house for a brief errand or two, which included the decidedly unglamorous tasks of buying running shorts and toilet paper.

As Nicky boards the escalator, a young man, Chris, probably no more than 20, boards behind her. They ride in silence for a moment.

CHRIS: (quietly) How YOU doin'?

He speaks so quietly, in fact, that Nicky assumes she is not the one being spoken to, and continues staring ahead.

CHRIS: (a little louder) I like your glasses, those are nice.

Nicky knows now that it is her he is speaking to, as she is wearing a pair of glasses that she regularly gets complimented on. However, she thinks it best not to encourage this young man, and continues to ignore him.

CHIRS: (definitely louder now) And your butt. I like that, too.

Enough is enough. Nicky turns to face Chris.

NICKY: (incredulously) Are you talking to ME??
CHIRS: (grinning sheepishly) Yeah!
NICKY: (even more incredulously) Do I KNOW you???
CHRIS: Yeah!
NICKY: No. You don't. You don't know me. That's not an appropriate way to speak to someone you don't know.
CHRIS: (backpedalling, in a slightly regretful tone) I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make friends.
NICKY: ...?....
CHRIS: ......
NICKY: Yeah, I don't think that's what you're trying to do.

Nicky turns back around and walks the rest of the way down the escalator, shaking her head in extreme disbelief.

BLACKOUT

"by'r lady, thirty years." romeo and juliet: i, v

Well I'll be damned if it isn't my 30th birthday in about an hour and a half.


What a strange (and usually wonderful) ride it's been so far.



....
Not, as you can see, a lot of blogging went on over the summer. It hasn't been a particularly interesting summer. There have been a few things I've wanted to write about but haven't yet ... I may yet still do so. School starts up in a couple weeks and no doubt I will want to procrastinate.

Tonight I was riding the bus with V. and there was a lady passed out drunk across from us. She was rather rotund and very well endowed in the chest, so that as she fell forward with the motion of the bus her face was flopping down right into her cleavage. HOT. I was seriously concerned that she was going to suffocate in her own boobs.

Last night I guess the kids were all back in town for college starting up, so there was all manner of nonsense going on downtown here. The nightclub next door was hopping with all the little striped-button-down-American-Eagle-shirt-and-frayed-bluejeans-wearing frat boys lining up, checking out the girls, who, at this point, are simply not putting on pants -- I can only assume for ease-of-access. I wish I was exaggerating, but I swear to you that I am not joking at all when I say I saw more than one girl wearing one of those stupid-looking tunic-style tank tops with no pants, just boy-short-style underwear, and wedge shoes. My soul shrunk a little.

So apparently I'm thirty and a cranky old person now. That's cool, at least I have an excuse for being cranky now.

"this music mads me; let it sound no more" king richard ii: v, v

I'm back, baby, and better than ever! It's been a while but here I am! Moved in, almost settled, finished with school all the way until September ..... yeee haaaahhhhhhh!

I do love the Downcity lifestyle. Little old PVD is getting there, it really is. Saturday afternoon I found myself NOT to be the only person poking around on Westminister St.; there was quite a nice little flow of people to and fro. The Providence Gay Pride Parade zoomed right in front of our apartment and lots of good times were had. I'm a nice little Saturday morning walk away from Nick's on Broadway.

Last evening I found myself back on the East Side for a little while; I was laying out on the Brown Green, reading, when I heard some music coming from down the street. I walked over to investigate and found these guys warming up. Then they formed up and headed over to what looked like an opening barbeque party for the Brown summer high school program. They were fun and pretty good too.

When I got home, I was lying asleep in bed - blissfully asleep, I think it should be noted - when I suddenly heard on the street below me the same now familiar semi-cacophonous sounds of a brass band, penetrating right through my closed window. I glanced bleary-eyed at the clock; the numbers 1:30 swam before my eyes.

I was ... unthrilled, to say the least.

Always something unexpected in the City-State.

"cooling of the air with sighs" the tempest: i, ii

I feel like such a hypocrite right now.

I don't own a TV. I don't own a car. Blah blah blah, I eat organic and local. Pftthb. The fact is, I am sitting in my apartment, positively basking in the Central Air. It's a hot and hazy and humid day out there. And I'm not suffering. I'm sitting back, sipping on a nice cold Sanbitter, listening to the Pet Shop Boys and getting ready to prep for class tomorrow, and dammit, I'm enjoying the temperate room.

So freaking sue me.

"some say he's mad," macbeth: v, ii

I was walking home from work yesterday, and a dude riding a bicycle on the sidewalk came up behind me fast and yelled derisively "Look out, hippie!" Which, as anyone who knows me can attest, is an odd thing to call me, as I think I'm not really on the hippie end of the spectrum. I was wearing chef's pants, which maybe looked like something else to him (some kind of hippie pattern maybe?), but that's really all I can think of.

So we're in the new place, officially now. I mean, everything we own is in the new place. That's about the extent of it, though. It's pretty much a mattress and a bunch of still-packed boxes and us.

I'm kind of tired of nutcases. There, I said it. But then I think that I should be more compassionate; surely no one wants to be a nutcase. But there seem to be a lot more of them out and about now that the warm weather has arrived, and I have to confess that I sometimes just wish I could walk down the street without incident.

Yesterday on the bus in to work a dude was coughing (a lot) right behind me, and I could just tell from the lack of muffling that he wasn't covering his mouth. I was about to turn around and say something or at least shoot him a dirty look, but then he started mumbling to himself and it sounded kind of like he was speaking in tongues, so I decided to just ride it out. Sometimes better to let these things slide. Although in this day and age of douchebags knowingly traveling on public modes of transportation with TB, it's sort of a wash when it comes to personal safety.

"'tis no time to play now" romeo and juliet: iv, v

I just watched the Sanbitter video like 3 times rapid-fire. It's mesmerizing. Oh, and I have studying I'm supposed to be doing, so that makes it more transfixing.

I was walking past this really seedy bar this afternoon just as the Preakness was finishing up. I heard this guy yelling at the top of his lungs "Get up there! Get up there!" and then he cheered so loudly I could hear him down the block. I guess he had a little bit of money on the winning horse. I can only hope for his sake it's enough to upgrade to a different bar; the one he was in advertised in the window that they had no public restrooms.

Oh, also, I just read this headline: "Study: Vitamin overuse could lead to cancer." Nice."A new study from the National Cancer Institute suggests a link between heavy use of multivitamins and increased risk for prostate cancer." Nutrition is getting to be more and more of a lose-lose proposition.

I just watched the Sanbitter video again. The guy's wearing a piano tie. It's awesome. It's awesome in the "it makes no sense" kind of way. If I understood Italian it would probably just be lame, but since Italian is just about as decipherable as Klingon for me, it's just pleasantly nonsensical.

And much better than learning the reason why glycerine is added to rolled fondant. (The reason is to make it more pliable and to prevent it from cracking and tearing when used.)

And with that ..... off I go.

"a pleasing cordial" king richard iii: ii, i

I'm excited to be moving, but, ugh, is there anything worse than moving? Packing. The pits. There's nothing for it but to just grab a box and start putting stuff in it. Try to keep organized, but by the end, there's a good chance that everything will get smushed together. The place we're moving to is smaller, too, so we're also supposed to purge as we go, and that makes it tougher too, or at any rate, more time consuming. My worry is that at first I'll be holding on to things sentimentally that I don't really want to keep, but that in the end, as the clock ticks down I'll start ruthlessly ditching things I will regret getting rid of in the long run. On the bright side, the clock's already ticking down, so maybe I'll just keep an even keel.

My favorite beverage at the moment is Pellegrino's Sanbitter (that link is great if you, uh, speak or read Italian; actually, it's pretty great even if you don't; I highly recommend clicking on the "videoclip" section). The bottle is cute as a button, sure, and that appeals to me, as does the ruby red syrupyness of the drink.

But more than that, it has this great sweet/bitter combo that I just love. It's a nonalcoholic version of Campari. Yum. Plus it gives you a SWEET red tongue when you drink it!

"fair flower, untimely pluck'd" various poetry: x

There are some beautiful flowering trees around the place where I work, and they are in full bloom right now.




Imagine my dismay that when I arrived this morning to work, I saw a crew of landscapers taking a chainsaw to several of these trees, cutting them down a branch at a time, then going right for the trunks. The pink petals were all around us in the air, churned up by the vibrations of the saw. If it had been two days from now, these would have been green trees, and while I hate watching trees being cut down, it wouldn't have been as heart-wrenching as this was, watching these beautiful pink branches at the height of their bloom being chopped down like they were nothing.

Put me in a rotten mood, I can tell you.

On the bright side, I got new glasses this week, and they are wicked cool.

"the majesty and power of law and justice" king henry iv, part ii: v, ii

I thought I'd share with you what kind of state Rhode Island is.

If you walk past the building that houses the Rhode Island Department of the Attorney General



You'll see an inspiring quote to the right of the door:


A quote from a comic book author. On an engraved placard. I just think that's great.

On the bright side, at least our courthouse doesn't have a monument to the Ten Commandments in it.

"the wretched animal heaved forth such groans" as you like it: ii, i

This morning I awoke early as the sun poured through my bedroom window. I opened my eyes for a few moments, enjoying the Spring light, and then looked at the clock, pleased to note that I had quite a while left before the alarm would go off. I closed my eyes, a slight smile on my face as I prepared to sink back into sleep.


"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SKREEEE SKREEEEE SKREEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

What tha???

"SKREEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Dude, what the hell is that??"
V was awake now, too. "I don't know." ..... "But whatever it is, it's not doing well."

"SKREEEEEEE SKREEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEE!!" rustle rustle rustle
"I can see the branches outside the window rustling."
"Are our screens all in?"

......
"SKREEEEEEEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
rustle rustle rustle


"SKREEE SKREEE!"
.....

"SKREEE!"
....


....

...


.......


....................
"Huh."
"Huh."



----

In a later discussion, we decided that it was probably an oppossum meeting an untimely death, based on V's unfortunate observation of a previous oppossum death (by car). I wonder what kind of animal it met that demise with, however, as 'possums are fairly big and mean, and the dogs in our neighborhood are small and hors d'ouerve-sized, and would probably make a tasty snack for any 'possum worth its salt. I'm guessing it might have been an owl or something. Thing is, we live in a city; it's not like we live out in the sticks where hearing animal encounters is normal, so it was a bit of an odd beginning to the day.

---

In other news, be sure to check out V's new post on Six Sentences. Good stuff, as always.

"...POP..."! hamlet: v, ii

Finally, the flowers and leaves are starting to POP!!

Spring. I have a love-hate relationship with it. Because much of the time, if I really think about it, Spring is fairly shitty: rainy, raw, muddy. But days like today, the day the flowers POP, the day the air feels like a soothing bath, the day the sunshine is finally warm, the first day you smell that hot sidewalk smell mingled with that muddy earth smell and the smell of every plant and tree waking up and waving in the breeze .... it's just so fucking gorgeous.

Anyway, that day is today, and the fact is, nothing on a day like today can make me feel sad. Even though I was dealt a minor disappointment during the day today, my attitude was magically transformed from the usual "why me?" to the much more desireable "que sera, sera!"

I feel like I can handle anything on a day like today.

"we shall remain in friendship" antony and cleopatra: ii, ii

Congratulate me -- I just got a 94 on a very rigorous practical exam in my chocolates class. It was very stressful, but in the end I feel like I kept a very cool head. There were a couple points where I had little episodes -- like "Do I even remember the first thing I need to do to temper chocolate??" But my cooler side prevailed, just kept my head down and kept moving.

Yesterday I caught up with some awesome friends I haven't seen or even really talked to in years. What felt especially great about it was that after just a few minutes, I felt just as comfortable with them as I ever did in high school. I'm really, really bad at keeping in touch with people, even people I love and want to be in touch with. I always kick myself for letting myself get so out of touch with people whose friendship brings me warmth and happiness, and I always vow to not let it keep happening. I hope this weekend will be a new leaf for me.

----
I feel like I want to close out with something really awesome and funny.
Oh, how about this:

"this happy day" julius caesar: v, v

Just because it's Friday the 13th doesn't mean there isn't awesomeness afoot.

Today is



THIS gal's birthday.

As you can see, Amy is a gal who knows how to have a good time.

This pic was taken the last time I was able to spend her birthday with her, and it must be said that it was in a much warmer climate than the one either of us is in right now.

Happy Birthday, Ames!

"live cleanly as a nobleman should do." king henry iv, part i: v, iv

That's me passing out from cleaning.

You know, if I would just, say, keep up with things around the house, it wouldn't be like this.

But, as a wise man once said, "I am what I am, and that's all what I am."

I wonder if I will ever be a grownup. All the grownups I know have a place for everything in their houses, or at least, it always looks like they do. Organizational systems baffle me. Drawers always fill with junk, bins are never used for their expressed purpose but instead as catch-alls. I start out with such good intentions; I even buy and read magazines like "Real Simple" and think, yeah, hey, that's a good idea, I should do that! It never happens.

Now the place is pretty clean, pretty tidy, and I have to say, it is gratifying to look at a tidy home. But tomorrow, I'll come home and I'll have something in my hands that doesn't have a place in the house, and it will get put on the counter. Then my shoes will come off, and will stay wherever I was standing when I took them off. Then I'll do homework and when I'm done there will be papers that don't quite make it back into my bookbag. Then it will just snowball. I can promise myself all I like that it won't happen. But it will.

Anyway, it's done now and I can relax.

---
It seems tacky to me that someone is already auctioning Anna Nicole's old diaries. I struggled with myself over whether to read the article about it, and in the end, the devil on my shoulder won out and I read it. It was depressing. I shouldn't even be writing here about it. More than anything, Anna Nicole made me sad. She was an easy target to make fun of because she was so outrageous, but most of the time she seemed like she was just crying out for someone to tell her "you're ok."

---
Well, it's getting to be yawn-thirty here, so guess it's time to hit the sack. Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight light, and the red balloon.

"she was a vixen when she went to school" a midsummer night's dream: iii, ii

Today was a warm early spring day. Even now, as the afternoon wanes, the air is temperate and drivers are cruising the streets with their windows open, perhaps blasting a hip new tune. You know, like ..... Gangsta's Paradise??

Seriously, someone just drove by my house blasting that song! It's more than 10 years old! The kids in college now were 9 when it came out.

Just got back from class. All things being equal, it was about as good a day in class as I could hope for -- I was lucky enough to not have any trouble tempering either dark or milk chocolate and was able to get all my production done very efficiently. My products turned out pretty nice. A good day.

Now if I could just wave my wand and have the bathroom clean itself. *sigh*.

"such sweet-complaining grievance" the two gentlemen of verona: iii, ii

I would really prefer it if the portmanteau-word "ginormous" would disappear completely from the American lexicon. I can't explain why, but it irritates the hell out of me, almost as much as hearing the Austin-Powers-inspired phrase "YEEAH, Baby!" exclaimed by a douchetastic frat-boy. I guess I don't feel as though the word ginormous adds any value or color to the language; in fact, if anything, it feels to me as though it detracts from the language.

I'm sitting at the bar at a tea shop right now, and I am loathe to confess this but I need to get it off my chest -- instead of studying for the last hour an a half as I intended to do when I came in here, I spent it purusing a copy of JANE magazine that someone had left here. That's an hour and a half of my life that will never be restored. I just feel fortunate that I was able to stop myself before delving into the LUCKY magazine that was underneath it. Man, it is like eating M&Ms.

Meanwhile, I am trying to tamp down all the knowlege I already have in my head about tempering chocolate so I can make room for more. As soon as I think I have learned all that I could need to know to succeed in this class, more information is presented. The class is extremely interesting and I find the work supremely gratifying, but it is pretty intense, to say the least.

On the bright side, I feel pretty relaxed today, and am hoping I will have a nice sleep through the night and will wake up tomorrow feeling ready to go.

Well, back to the books.

endeavour thyself to sleep twelfth night: iv, ii

This is the crappiest part of the week for me. I think. Actually I'm torn. It's one of two times: It's either 9pm on a Saturday night, when I am at home, trying futilely to settle down to sleep so I can get up at 5:30am for my all-day Sunday class. Or it's Monday at 7am, when I wake up and remember I have to go to work, and I haven't had a day off when you consider school and work since March 9 and won't be having one until April 8 (thank the gods for Easter, even though I don't observe it).

I shouldn't complain. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I mean, I'm taking advantage of an opportunity not everyone has, to go to school and learn a trade and a craft that I really enjoy. But I'm still fucking exhausted, and I'm tired of Saturday nights being such a bummer.

Oh well. Time marches on. Each word I type is that much less time I can spend in the throes of my once-a-week insomnia. The one night I really need to get to sleep is the one night I never can. I get too nervous that I won't wake up in time and so I can never fall asleep. It's pathological, really.

"an apple, cleft in two, is not more twin than these two creatures" twelfth night: v, i

So, I have to confess that I did look for photos of Boy George when he was doing his community service in NYC, picking up trash. I didn't feel good about it, though -- he's a bit of a wash-up at this point, he looks like hell these days, and more than anything it just seemed sad to me. However, I took pure glee in this one. Why? Because Naomi Campbell is not a wash-up, she's a spoiled brat who threw a cell phone while she was having a temper tantrum because something didn't go exactly her way. The article states that "she has blamed her temper on lingering resentment toward her father for abandoning her as a child." Get over it. It's sad and all that her father abandoned her, but it doesn't even register on the scale of acceptable excuses for assaulting at least three employees.


In other exciting news, I have joined the wireless revolution, and I am now typing to you from a brand spanking new MacBook. It's great. My favorite perk so far is that it has a built in camera with PhotoBooth, software that lets me take pictures using different cool filters such as this one:


Fun, right?

Oh, also, apparently I have a twin roaming around the city; according to V. she looks so much like me that people who know me have addressed her as if she was me before taking a second look and realizing that it's not in fact me. Now, I assume that since we are twins, one of us must be the evil twin, so I will assume, unless I meet her and it proves to be otherwise, that I am the evil twin.

Someone I work with speculated that if we ever did meet, it would create a tear in the space/time continuum and unmake the world. Maybe I'll stay in tonight, just in case.

"I writ at random, very doubtfully." the two gentlemen of verona: ii, i

Suddenly, this year, I no longer care about the Oscars. Why might this be? I can remember a time when I wouldn't miss the awards shows -- any of them. And so far I haven't watched one this year. I don't think I even know who's nominated.

Meanwhile, in other awesomeness, it's supposed to snow again here. I shouldn't really complain, since we've seen almost no snow this year, but now I'm spoiled.

I am almost finished with the class I am taking; I had a practical exam today that went as well as could be expected, given the instructor's unrelenting criticism and insistence on standing over one while one is attempting to execute the most difficult parts of the day's assignments. I'll be glad when this one is over.

Anyway, that's all I've got right now.

Oh, I almost forgot; how do you suppose this guy lists this on his resume??

"why are you grown so rude?" a midsummer night's dream: iii, ii

So I was at the grocery store, picking up a few necessities the other day. Fairly normal stuff, in my life:

- baking chocolate, for melting to practice writing in chocolate (for writing or drawing on pastries)
- deodorant, for keeping me so fresh and so clean clean
- tampons, for the usual reason

I got to the checkout, and it was just about 5pm, so it was busy, a line of people behind me. Now, I'm not the kind of person who is embarrassed to buy tampons; it is a fact of life and nothing to be embarassed about. Maybe it was marginally unfortunate that the same day I bought them I also bought chocolate and deodorant, but frankly, I wasn't thinking about it all that much; I needed what I needed. But the check out gal, upon getting to my order, actually stopped what she was doing and looked at me knowingly and said, "Awesome selection of products!" BE SERIOUS! C'mon, show a little discretion here, gal. I'm all for keeping it real, but mind your own damn business!

In other news of impoliteness, can anyone explain to me why anyone would go to a play and allow their cell phone to ring not once, not twice, but three times during the course of the show?? Things are getting out of hand.

"though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe" king richard ii: ii, i

I wanted her to pull it together. Come to a realization, you know? Start taking better care of herself, now that she was a mom again, after losing her son. I thought it could happen; she could be the poster girl for Turning Things Around. She was out there, kind of a dumbass, trying to be the thing that she thought people wanted, pumping herself full of unhealthy chemicals, making poor decisions. But she was 39, it wasn't too late for her to have an epiphany about the direction her life was heading; so I believed. Guess I was wrong.

Not to say I admired her or necessarily felt sorry for her. But times like these, when I reflect on the life someone in the public eye who makes poor choices, like a model or an astronaut, I'm reminded of how we're all just doing the best we can. I make poor choices all the time - maybe not as spectacularly, maybe not on camera or with the end result of a restraining order, but I do. It's a struggle, making sound decisions, sometimes; we're such a muddled species. We know right from wrong but often Right doesn't "feel" right. Or it doesn't feel good, at any rate. Strange animals.

Anna Nicole: no doubt even in your death we haven't heard the last of you.

"the stars above us govern our conditions" king lear: iv, iii

So by now, most of us have probably read about the Astronaut Love Triangle. Here are a few of the key points that stuck with me:

- The astronaut accused of the attempted kidnapping/murder/whatever it was she was going to do drove 900 miles to do it. That's NASA perseverence! (I guess when you've orbited the Earth 300 times, 900 miles starts to seem like a drive to the corner store.)
- "Inside a bag Nowak was carrying, the officer found a tan trench coat, a new steel mallet, a new folding knife with a 4-inch blade, 3 to 4 feet of rubber tubing, several large plastic garbage bags and about $600 in cash, the report said." That's the kind of preparedness we have come to expect from This Great Nation's aeronautical experts.
- "Inside the car, police found an a half dozen latex gloves, MapQuest directions from Houston to Orlando International Airport, e-mails from Shipman to Oefelein, diapers Nowak said she wore to reduce stops along the highway and a letter indicating how much she loved Oefelein." I don't think I need to elaborate on why this part stuck with me.

The woman in question is a married mother of 3. She and the man she was pursuing were on space missions together. This has Lifetime Movie of the Week written all over it. Seriously, it can't be far off. Is it wrong that my own version of the movie features Nowak, played by Courtney Cox, confronting the man, Bill Oefelein (played by Brent Spiner), and having a climatic final argument, and then driving to Kennedy Space Center, commandeering the Space Shuttle Atlantis, and blasting off, away from this crazy world, to the only place where she can truly be herself: Space.

I think it could work.

"contemplation of my travels" as you like it: iv, i

If one makes one's final approach to Hell on a city bus, I think I know what that bus would be like, for I just stepped off of it.

I'll back up.

In Colonial days, there were two major port cities in what is now Rhode Island: Providence and Newport (though they were probably like "Providenfe" and "Newporte"). If I'm not mistaken, Newport was the primary one, but then Providence built up and became the main port for the colony. Newport and Providence now remain as sort of sister cities in this smallest of the states. Newport is a big summer city, but in the winter, not much is going on there. So in the winter, young folks who attend one of the schools in Newport might find themselves wanting to come into Providence for some Friday night revelry, and they might find themselves on the 10:00 bus from Newport to Providence in order to do so.

And in fact, so did I find myself on this bus on this very evening. I picked it up about halfway between Newport and Providence in the town where my parents live, not really thinking that there would be many people on the bus because there usually aren't at night. But tonight this was not the case.

First of all, I knew things weren't going to go well before I even got on the bus. I'm standing in the rain at the bus stop, which was clearly marked and well lit, and I see the bus approaching. Fast. Like, really fast - like, easily 50mph. Too fast to stop for me with any amount of safety awareness. So I put up my hand and wave it to indicate "I'm here and would like to board your bus, please," and I don't see the bus slowing down any, so my hand waving becomes more and more animated until the point where I am waving my arm fully extended back and forth very rapidly in a "Hey! Hey!! HEYYY!!" kind of way. As the bus breezes past me, I see the brake lights finally go on, and fully a block past me, the bus rolls to a screeching halt. I jog the block down the road and board the bus, and before I can say "good evening" to the beleaguered driver, I am greeted by a wall of sound. The bus is packed -- packed -- with kids. I say "kids" -- they may have been 21 or so, since they were all clearly headed out to the bars; however, since I turned 29 maybe 21 is starting to look like 19. What? Why would I even type that out??

Anyway, the bus is packed, and there is one lone seat all the way at the back of the bus, on the bench that crosses the whole back wall of the bus. So I pick my way over all the feet that are sprawled out in the aisle and before I can reach my seat, the bus lurches forward again and I trip over someone's feet and up the aisle. Lemme tell ya, it felt like the middle school school bus all over again. Could I be any more uncool?

I finally make it back to my seat, nestled amongst a group of boys who are all wearing the college sophomore guy uniform: American Eagle striped button down shirt with a wife-beater underneath, revealed by the shirt being buttoned only 2/3 of the way; some kind of neck accessory (hemp necklace, fashion crucifix, dog tags); spiked hair (but not in the cute way); ratty-ass faded blue jeans; and pristine Nike shoes. These guys all also have the fashion accessory that marks them as underage: the Poland Spring water bottle filled with a liquid that is clearly not water. I have my iPod in, so I can't hear their whole conversation, but they get particularly animated at one point and I hear this exchange about being picky eaters (apparently they all are): First guy says "Dude, that's why I cook at home. I watch that Rachel Ray shit and cook all my shit at home." (The other guys look at him in silence for a minute.) Second guy goes "all I know is, I've never eaten an olive, and I've never eaten a mushroom, and I'm not going to."

There was another group of young men whose fashion choices I simply could not fathom: two of the young men seemed to be very conscious of hip-hop style in all their clothing items except that they were wearing these jackets that had these child-like cartoon drawings of woodland creatures on them. One of them had a white background and the other had a royal blue background but other than that they matched. These two guys also had matching do rags except in opposite colors. It was adorable, like they called each other as they were getting dressed.

Also, in watching each individual group of people, I noticed that every one of them at some point seemed to have a conversation about their shoe choices, as I saw them all looking at each other's shoes and pointing and comparing.

Meanwhile I think the bus is about to careen off the road; the driver is either trashed or just so keen to unload this rowdy group that he couldn't keep his foot off the pedal.

As I got off the bus at my stop, the lone other passenger who clearly wasn't affiliated with this group of late-night party-goers got up behind me, crashed into me as the bus screeched to a halt so that I nearly fell down the steps, and asked the driver "Is this the airport?" I left the bus before I could hear the bus driver's response, though I am sure it was something along the lines of "You've got a long way to go to the airport; you're not even on the right bus."

"the book even of my secret soul" twelfth night: i, iv

So yet again thanks to Katie Schwartz, who pointed me in the direction of The Book Quiz. I took the quiz, and lo and behold, I am my favorite book of all time!!

You're Alice's Adventures in Wonderland!

by Lewis Carroll

After stumbling down the wrong turn in life, you've had your mind opened to a number of strange and curious things. As life grows curiouser and curiouser, you have to ask yourself what's real and what's the picture of illusion. Little is coming to your aid in discerning fantasy from fact, but the line between them is so blurry that it's starting not to matter. Be careful around rabbit holes and those who smile to much, and just avoid hat shops altogether.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I wasn't even "trying" for anything specific, I just answered the questions honestly.

So that was fun.

On another note, today on the bus I overheard the young man next to me berating his baby mama over the phone. She kept hanging up on him, and he would keep calling her back, and if she didn't answer, he would berate her voicemail. Sounded like a custody thing; frankly, a guy who talks the way this guy did ("yeah try that and see how you like winding up in a fucking body bag" -click-) should not have custody of any child. I suppose it's possible that the mom is worse than him, but having listened to him for 15 minutes, I doubt it. So that was a good way to end the work day.

And finally, it seems to me that I got hoodwinked (refer to my previous post). Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel foolish at first, but the fact is that it is just a crying shame that there are enough people out there in this country who actually do think the way that Donnie Davies pretends to think to make me believe so easily in him. The way he looks and talks, and the words he says -- I have seen and heard people who are extremely similar, so it didn't seem like a parody to me. And since he's not really doing anything hyperbolic, since people really do think this way, it's not a very good satire, in my opinion. And I swear it's not just sour grapes -- I just don't find the subject matter to have been dealt with very cleverly. The only clever thing about it is the verisimilitude of the character.

Ok that's all I got for now.

"painting thy outward walls so costly gay?" sonnets: cxlvi

So I was surfing along, checking out some of my usual web haunts, when the Onion's The Hater clued me in to a really .... breathtaking website.

It's called Love God's Way, and if it wasn't so amaturish and hamfisted, it might be something worth getting upset over. But, because they clearly have no fucking clue what they're talking about, it is just funny, and in a way, kind of sad. Basically, it's an organization that helps to "reform" homosexuals, and their shining beacon of hope is ... wait, I want to get this right .... ok, got it -- "Christian Youth expert Donnie Davies." He's a reformed homosexual, you see, and now he's a Christian Youth Expert. Oh, yeah, he also is a Christian rocker, and -- this is exciting -- they have a new music video out for their latest song, called "The Bible Says;" sample lyrics include "God hates a fag .... if you're a fag he hates you too." Nice! I love the Christian generosity in that sentiment. I really encourage you to click around on the site, and especially to hit up their "Safe Bands" and "Gay Bands" lists. You know what, I'll save you the trouble, because there are a couple gems here I want you to spot.

Ok, Safe Bands first (Oh, by the way, Love God's Way indicates that these lists are a "powerful tool" to "let you see some bands and entertainment that is safe for your children." Ok, onward we go): UnderOath, Cyndi Lauper, Falling Up, Flyleaf, THE TURNING [I have no idea why that is in all caps], Disciple, P.O.D, By The Tree, Scott Reed, Michael W. Smith, Jars of Clay, DC Talk, Danielson.

No real surprises there -- most of these are Christian bands. The only real baffler for me was Cyndi Lauper. I'm just sayin' - I have known several very nice gay men who love the Cyndi. But hey, I'm not a Christian Youth Expert.

Ok, here are the Gay Bands, a much longer list, and prefaced by the note that "one of the most dangerous ways homosexuality invades family life is through popular music. Parents should keep careful watch over their children's listening habits, especially in this Internet Age of MP3 piracy." Good job keeping it current, Love God's Way. Ok, here are the Gay Bands, listed as they appear verbatim:

The Spores (endorse suicide), Scissor Sisters, Rufus Wainwright, Merzbau, Ravi Shankar, Wilco, Bjork, Tech N9ne, Ghostface Killah, Bobby Conn, Morton Subotnik, Cole Porter, The String Cheese Incident, Eagles of Death Metal, Polyphonic Spree, The Faint, Interpol, Tegan and Sara, Erasure, Le Tigre, The Gossip, The Doors, Phish, Queen, The Strokes, Sufjan Stevens, Morrissey(?questionable?), The Pet Shop Boys, Metallica, Judas Priest, The Village People, The Secret Handshake, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Man or Astroman, Richard Cheese, Jay-Z, Depeche Mode, Kansas, Ani DiFranco, Fischerspooner, John Mayer, The Indigo Girls, Velvet Underground, Madonna, Elton John, Barry Manilow, Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge, Eminmen, Nirvana, Boy George*, The Killers, Lou Reed, Lil' Wayne, Motorhead, Jill Sobule, Wilson Phillips, DMX, Lisa Loeb, Dogstar, Thirty Seconds to Mars, Lil' Kim, kd lang, Frank Sinatra, Hinder, Nickleback, Justus Kohncke, Bob Mould, Clay Aiken, Arcade Fire, Bright Eyes, Corinne Bailey Rae, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Panic at the Disco, Elton John(really gay).

Please note that Morrissey is only "questionably" gay; however, Elton John is so gay that he is listed twice, the second time with the note that he is "really gay," unlike Boy George who only receives an unexplained asterisk.

Oh, at the end of the gay list it says "In Our effort to keep this list up to date we'd appreciate your help. If you know of a band that is Gay or propogating a Gay message please email us so we can update. Donnie is handling this his email is: donniedavies@gmail.com." Then a new paragraph: "The response is overwhelming. You guys know of a lot more Gay Bands than I do. I can't keep up. Hopefully soon we'll have it so you can add them by yourself."

This is such a pathetic website, and honestly, as mad as I get when I hear about "reforming" homosexuals, and hearing hateful lyrics like "God hates a fag," I get more sad when I think about the fact that Donnie Davies is a gay guy who has told himself he is a filthy sinner and is just closing off a part of who he is. Someone got hold of him and told him that, and he believed it. You know, now he believes he's happy, and I guess if he thinks he's happy, he is happy. But the thing about spreading this venomous message to others is what makes it not just sad -- it makes it fairly horrifying. I feel like he needs another intervention.

Anyway, that's about all from here ... oh, did anyone else enjoy the State of the Union as much as I did? I'm talking, of course, about the President's very careful pronounciation of tough words near the beginning of the speech, including one correct "nuclear," which then deteriorated as he felt like he was in the swing of things. By the end it was "Tay-ran," "Bella-roose," and "nuke-yoo-lir," "nuke-yoo-lir," "nuke-yoo-lir." And what was up with the Prez signing all those autographs at the end? The people asking for them had to have been plants, don't you think?

"i have no words" macbeth: v, viii

So, a couple things to get to here. Katie Schwartz asked if I would be posting my thoughts on ye ol' GW's most recent, you know, thing. His speech about his plans for the Iraq situation. Well, I wasn't going to say anything at first, because as you may know, I don't have a TV and I try not to read too many direct quotes from the President because it upsets me too much. I try to glean the basics by reading a variety of news sources, and stay away from actually hearing or reading anything that comes out of GW's mouth. But, upon reflection, I decided this is a kind of pivitol thing, and I really ought to go back and read his speech from Wednesday.

I have to say, I'm left feeling more baffled than ever. I wish the President was right - I wish that sending more troops over and "clearing" areas of terrorists and then "securing" those areas would do the trick, and then everyone could come home and we could be whole as a country. But how long can this truly go on? There's no timeline, even if we're being told that it's a temporary situation. And even if we do succeed in Iraq, there will be another confrontation that comes up after it, and another after that -- there's always going to be people out there wanting to create chaos, because it benefits them. I don't have a coherent alternative plan to what's being proposed ... leaving now will cause chaos too. It just sucks. I wish I had a more vehement opinion, but the fact is I am just bewildered at the state of things, and I honestly sometimes wonder what will become of us, all of us, as a species. Often the answer is "Nothing good." It sounds fucking depressing, and it is, and so I honestly don't know what else to say. There was I time when I would have gone on some kind of tirade, but why? I don't really know what I'm talking about. I just know I fear for the future, and often wonder just how much future we really have.

Sorry to be a downer. I'm not like this all the time, truly. But, Katie, just FYI, this is why I usually don't get into this stuff. It's too fucking depressing, and I don't know what I'm talking about most of the time.

* * *
Onward. Day to day life goes on. And in that vein, just thought I'd put it out there that my favorite person, V., has a new post up on Six Sentences. It's great, so please check it out.

Finally, again, Katie has tagged me on another meme. "The 10 things about meemish that I really don't want to tell you but will because I'm a freak." So here goes.


1. I love karaoke. Anytime someone suggests it, I am down. I'm not great, but I'm not terrible either -- it just is such a blast to get up there and tear it up with "The Humpty Dance."

2. I enjoy artificial flavors. They're a guilty pleasure. There are times when I love nothing more than "cherry" Jello.

3. I still hate to eat my vegetables. Vegetables just don't taste good to me, I'm sorry. I do it, but I hate it.

4. However, I love artichoke and asparagus. They're practically meat-like flavors anyway.

5. I once worked for a medical publishing company. One of the journals that premiered during my time there was a dermatology journal, and the cover on the premiere issue featured a photo of a baby's butt that had a gaping lesion on it. It was a fun job. (bleh). (The story has a happy ending, though - apparently this is not a totally uncommon disorder, and pretty much just keeping it clean allows it to clear itself up. On the inside, there was a photo of the baby like 2 months later, lesion free. Awwwww.)

6. I am the messiest nearly-30-person I know. My house is a shambles, pretty much consistently. I don't even know how it happens. Things just never seem to have a place. And I don't even have that much stuff anymore.

7. I'm still kind of afraid of the dark. Mostly I just don't like the lack of knowledge of what is surrounding me, especially my feet, for some reason.

8. I kind of like the way Red Bull tastes, by itself.

9. If there is something that might be cause for worry, I'll worry about it. "ooh, I mispronounced that guy's name last night, shit, what must he think of me??" It's really stupid.

10. My browser home page is U2.com.

"o brave new world" the tempest: v, i

So I absolutely must have the new iPhone.

Oh, I know, I know, it's $499 - $599; it's an unecessary commodity; it's replacing items I already have.

Did you catch the important letter in that last clause? I'll give you a hint. The letter is "s".

It's replacing itemS I already have.

Holy Mother of God -- this thing is fucking amazing!!!! When I first read the story on it on CNN, my attitude was that, yeah, it's cool, but something I could live without. I mean, I have a phone I like already (I even get complements on it - it's tiny and it slides open), and I am also lucky enough to have an iPod already, and it's only a year old.

But oh my gosh the iPhone is SO AWESOME. Check out the specs on the site, seriously. And, truly, please believe me when I say I am not someone who usually jumps up at every new gadget and must have it. I mean, I like my technology and all, but I try to be reasonable. But this little beauty allows you to talk on the phone, or listen to music, or browse the internet and access email using a real web browser - and there aren't any fucking buttons! It's all touch-screeen, but a new touch-screen technology that disregards unintended motions. Oh, and it has a proximity sensor that tells it when you put the phone to your ear so you don't make erroneous selections with the side of your face while talking. Oh, and also, it has a sensor that tells it when you turn it on its side and flips to landscape view automatically. And check out the new music browsing interface, in which you actually flip through album cover art in the same way you would look at a record collection.

If you have like an hour to spare, check out the video of Steve Jobs introducing it. I intended to watch only a moment of it, but I was sucked in, watching Steve Jobs work his voodoo mojo on the salivating hippie geeks at the MacWorld conference. They could barely contain themselves, and, boy, did Steve know how to work it. The whole thing was a masterpiece. I actually couldn't watch the whole thing - there were too many other people trying to watch the video at the same time and my connection was lost. I'm telling you, this thing is about to blow wide open -- this is the wave of the fricking future. I think that with this invention, we might be able to achieve world peace.


***

In other news, Paris Hilton is a fucking dumbass. Muchos muchos gracias to the lovely and talented Katie Schwartz for being an alert reader of pop culture and making me aware of this fucking gem. It's positively breathtaking on so many levels. If you want to feel good about yourself today for not being a dumbass, this video is sure to do the trick.

"Sun that warms you here" king richard ii: i, iii

"Cats and dogs living together -- mass hysteria!"

That's kind of how it feels up here in the ol' southeast Northeast. There's no way to put it politely (well, that's not true, a better-read person than I might have a more pleasant way of saying this) -- this weather is fucking strange. S-T-R-A-N-G-E.

Actually I just wanted an excuse to put up that scene from "Ghostbusters," because I think of it often in my own little strange mind, and I was able to kind of make it fit here.

But seriously, there are cherry blossoms in bloom here in RI. In January. I'm just saying. Next thing you know, Georgie W. will be admitting he did something wrong. If that happens, I just want to put it out there that you might find me in church next Sunday, making preparations for the End Times.

Whoa - as I wrote that, the sun burst through the clouds for like 15 seconds then went back in. Cue creepy ghost-movie music.