divide by zero
age of consent
emily : still strange
since March 1st, 2k!
Saturday, November 4, 2000 @ 02:31 p.m.
the weather is wonderfully sullen today.
Charlie's Angels is the best movie ever. It was campy but reverent. It had style and karate and a great soundtrack. They wore badass clothes.
from the journals of wayward mobility:
"[the passive voice is] wimpy, and wordy, and sneaky." -my english prof. "[in the example] 'The police were ordered to open fire on the protestors.' Who ordered the police to open fire on the protestors?" "Stockwell Day!"
"Cam's house is a communist regime."
"there will always be areas of doubt." -my spanish prof, on the use of ser and estar, two spanish verbs that both mean "to be"
"It may look scary, because it has a lot of letters." -my phil120 prof, on one of the derivations on our midterm
"Food not sex!" -my anthro prof
"don't ask me why gold butterflies get me high... these are some of my favourite things, but doing nothing is my favourite one. but maybe loving you, babe, is my favourite one, my very favourite one.it's not the life i thought it would be but i'll be alright i know i will be SO LONG to circumstance... these are some of my favourite things" -Beth Hart, “Favorite Things”
Thursday, November 2, 2000 @ 04:42 p.m.
I wanted to tell you this...
I am a guest "writer" on Jocelyn's page now. I still hate the Internet and won't ever update my page. But this will make Joce happy so I will do it.
How does Meghan get energy?
I would like to go to sleep now but I have to find a classical painting done on one of Ovid's 250 myths. Well, fuck me.
Angie, do you hate me?
Thursday, November 2, 2000 @ 02:08 p.m.
beth hart is like alana davis if alana davis were better.
Wednesday, November 1, 2000 @ 09:33 p.m.
you know how, you can go a certain number of days or weeks without enough sleep and it's all good, but then suddenly it hits you, and you're in capacitated-- not making good sentences, aching muscles, you feel like you're on the verge of collapse into a state of viral disease? that's me. i'm more than a tired girl-- i'm a girl so tired my throat hurts. who knew tiredness had to do with your throat-- or your wrists or your wits? or the backs of your legs, or behind your ears-- or everywhere-- please hold me.
While we're gone, my dog jumps up on the kitchen table and eats the butter. My dad is pissed off and "offended" by this, but my mother secretly encourages the dog with little baby-talk pep talks, and so he keeps doing it. Also he's too stupid to know what's going on.
Everyone else says whatever bad things they want about everyone else on their website, so why not me?
Wednesday, November 1, 2000 @ 04:27 p.m.
cate blanchett, minnie driver, kate hudson, ashley judd, and femke janssen.
Monday, October 30, 2000 @ 06:26 p.m.
dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit. why am i so fucked up and frustrated today?
i slept for twelve hours yesterday. perhaps my brain has been rewired for sleep.
i want a little glass cube with a fish in it.
meghan had a dream that i went out with eric, from the timms theatre troupe.
jeff's little sister drew me a horse. that was, like, the only good thing that happened to me today.
i was going to make a list entitled ten women i would want to have sex with if i were a lesbian, but i couild only think of five:
see how frustrated and fucked-up i am, i can't even think of five other women i would want to have sex with. email form-me, dammit. it will make me happy!
this is the autumn of my discontent.
Sunday, October 29, 2000 @ 02:18 p.m.
Grilled cheese is the best food in the universe. Grilled cheese and cadbury mini eggs. I could eat these two things forever (along with Lipton Sidekicks)... and I would be fat and lonely and alone and pathetic, but dammit, I would be so happy.
I have hair like Princess Leia today, in little cinnamon buns behind my ears.
I want to be Princess Leia for Hallowe'en. Actually, I want to be Princess Leia, period.
This morning, we drove to church across that little grated bridge with a wicked view of downtown (by the museum), and the buildings were so shrouded in fog we could have been anywhere, driving anywhere-- the Welsh highlands, an X-Files episode, a Loch Ness documentary, someplace atmosphere-y. It's amazing how thrilling the world is when covered in fog.
...I was the best thing in the world, that in spite of bad coordination, "despite the freedom of youth and the license of first love-- because of fate, karma, luck, what does it matter?", we had SOMETHING, and now it's gone.
Today the weather is too grey to think about heartbreak and screwing up.
[about] one year ago: "I don't need to set long-term goals and develop happy healthy future-oriented relationships with men in accordance with my Man Plan (oops, wrong self-help source) and grow socially, emotionally, physically, intellectually and spiritually when my CALM textbook is too scared to even define "spiritually" to high-school students for fear they'll get shot by some redneck Albertans with shotguns that ARE NOT REGISTERED! Or slugged over the head with big, heavy STEAKS from ALBERTA CATTLE! Doused in OIL! That's how we kill people up here, y'all."
Saturday, October 28, 2000 @ 09:26 p.m.
you have to admit i've got a point.
Saturday, October 28, 2000 @ 09:25 p.m.
Friday, October 27, 2000 @ 07:24 p.m.
When I say SONGS ABOUT TRAGIC DEATH, I am not messing around. The 1950s produced a huge quantity of sad songs, but these are the creme de la creme-- not merely the sad but the deeply sad, the genuinely miserable, the songs that mix in the correct proportion pathos, emotion, true love, lethal romance, and (usually) manly honour as well. Numbers nine and eight are songs about life in the old west; i consider them to be the least tragic and deathy because of their pseudo-historical context. The other seven are the real stuff-- beautiful girls dying in car wrecks, handsome young men perishing in fiery car accidents, and very big men holding up mine shafts. Enjoy, dammit!
I couldn't think of ten, so you'll have to settle for eight. I thought about using Van Morrison's "TB Sheets," but it's a little too serious for this list: I think his girlfriend actually DID die of tuberculosis, and that makes it a little too... I don't know... real to be grouped with TEEN ANGEL and TELL LAURA I LOVE HER. Besides, most of these are singles that went at least partway up the charts, and TB SHEETS only sold because it was on the same album as BROWN-EYED GIRL. Don McLean's VINCENT also occured to me, but I discarded it for the same reasons. Besides, it's a little too literary.
As always, I would welcome additional information or suggestions. Use email form!
Friday, October 27, 2000 @ 05:42 p.m.
i went to value village with my sister because she was looking for a hallowe'en costume but she didn't find what she wanted. also she vetoed my idea of being "some kind of housebound nightgown person" for hallowe'en (value village has the best nightgowns). i wanted to find a mechanic's jacket with ED embroidered on the breast, but they didn't have any mechanics' jackets of any description. i'm not sure where i would find one.
what i DID find @ value village: a middle-aged woman holding a black lace tshirt up to her friend and asking, "will this make me look like a whore?"
I decided it wasn't my place to give her my opinion. Good job, Culturally Sensitive Jocelyn!
Use my pretty email form in the left column to send me stuff, like your phone # or (more specifically) why you adore me.
Thursday, October 26, 2000 @ 10:41 p.m.
isn't it interesting to consider that everything as you perceive it, down to your own emotions, is adulterated by your senses? essentially, everything could be a construct (i'm big on constructs today) and therefore there is absolutely NO REASON not to live in your own world.
this is a very simplistic argument but it's late at night.
here is what i did tonight (I think, but I cannot be sure...)
someday when i am old and have forgotten the feeling of my own teeth and the names of my grandchildren, i will remember still the moment where i realized there was no good reason i could not eat M&Ms in the bathtub. life is a construct. reconstruct it, dammit! reprogram yourself for something new.
Thursday, October 26, 2000 @ 03:10 p.m.
the only problem with my coming up with the coolest pitas password, ever, is that i can't tell anyone, cause it's my password.
the buffalo pita is gone. i hope now meghan will come and be a guest star on my page, but i don't think she'll agree to it.
of my last three entries only two have made sense. Go me.
Thursday, October 26, 2000 @ 02:03 p.m.
cling to your constructs
Wednesday, October 25, 2000 @ 09:23 p.m.
i sent parcels to france, japan, romania, and italy tonight. do i ever get to go to any of these places? no. post office makes me wistful.
jeff, doing the crossword: "another word for a pirate's treasure. five letters."
Wednesday, October 25, 2000 @ 03:58 p.m.