it means everything that has been erased

fun! free! nutritious! "there are some things that I will not tolerate. Students, lingering in the halls after school. Horrible murders with organs being removed. And also smoking."

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email moi: jocelynb at shaw dot ca

I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself the king of infinite space...
Thursday, November 28, 2002 @ 09:12 a.m.

  1. I am the king of infinite space.

I love those IKEA commercials in which the Scandanavian man berates you for feeling sorry for the lamp: "The new one is better!" But I also resent the way they manipulate their audience, and then ridicule them for it. That's not really fair. Of course you feel sorry for the lamp! Who wouldn't? Only an insensitive lamp-hater, that's who!

I watched more Zoboomafoo, with Caleb. The sad truth is that I want to go to Animal Junction, because it looks like way more fun than my actual life (and the snack machine button for me would contain cookies, and little containers of milk). On the one I watched last night Zaboo wanted to try to make anteaters to stop eating ants, so he was trying to distract the anteater: "Hey, want to see me do a wacky human thing?" and then he tried to ride a bike backwards. That silly, wonderful lemur.

I can do wacky human things.

I also watched NETWORK yesterday. (Thanks for the recommendation, Chris!) It's a pretty incredible movie, and a rare example of a film that seems to get more relevant as time goes on. The scene that struck me the most is when William Holden is leaving Faye Dunaway, and he tells her,

"It's too late, Diana. There's nothing left in you that I can live with. You're one of Howard's humanoids. If I stay with you, I'll be destroyed. Like Howard Beale was destroyed. Like Loreena Hobbs was destroyed. Like everything that you and the institution of television touch is destroyed. You're television incarnate, Diana -- indifferent to suffering, insensitive to joy... War, murder, death -- all the same to you as bottles of beer, and the daily business of life is a corrupt comedy. You even shatter the sensation of time and space into split seconds, instant replays. You're madness, Diana. Virile madness, and everything you touch dies with you. But not me. Not as long as I can feel pleasure and pain... and love. "
[Thanks, internet movie database!]

Afterward, I said out loud to the screen and the empty room, "Wow... but no offence."

Like most anything else, it reminds me of a line from a Douglas Coupland book [That would be Shampoo Planet]: "[my friends and me] We're throwing-out consultants."

"i am adrift in a world of dreary khaki." -Amelie
Wednesday, November 27, 2002 @ 09:39 a.m.

Last night as I came home to the university from downtown, there was a guy playing his guitar in the subway station. It took me a minute to place the song, and then I realized it was Jonathan Richman's Egyptian Reggae. I was delighted, so I gave him my only loonie. It was this one sublime moment.

in search of different food
Sunday, November 24, 2002 @ 10:09 a.m.

In honour of my website's third birthday (which was yesterday, or the day before, only I've been busy) I have temporarily resurrected the original Ridiculous Jocelyn Internet Project: The Lobster Nation. When I was 15, I got a geocities account and taught myself basic HTML. I was pretty weird at that age and it's a wonder I ever developed into a reasonably well-adjusted person. [Warning: broken links, stupid ideas, some amusement]

Happy birthday, dear Deletia. Happy birthday to you indeed.

nothing's gonna change my world
Saturday, November 23, 2002 @ 03:22 p.m.

Don't you wish you had this shirt?
Yeah, me too.

I haven't received any email at all today, and I am beginning to suspect that I am not real. Think about it. I could claim to be a figment of my own imagination-- although I don't know how Descartes would feel about that.

[for my use: this is our english 206 presentation]

Normally I'm all about the databases, but this sounds a little too database-y. If you know what I mean. What I mean (in case you don't know what I mean) is that we are obviously headed towards an official surveillance regime, like in a George Orwell novel, and it worries me. Although the fact that the article is written by William Safire makes it slightly better.

Anyway, the point is...

*



*



*



it started out like romeo and juliet, but it ended in tragedy
Friday, November 22, 2002 @ 02:30 p.m.

"You might recognize me from such educational films as Lead Paint: Delicious but Deadly and Here Comes The Metric System!"

I wish you deadbeats would go sign up for my projects on nervousness. What's the point of having an imaginary website audience if they never do anything nice for you? (I should note that nervousness is currenly closed to new sign-ups, so if you're not a member, then you're excused.)

Sometimes sleeping only makes me more sleepy. I've noticed.

I keep meaning to post amusing, interesting, insightful things, and then I forget.

note to self: I must never, ever watch THE BACHELOR again
Thursday, November 21, 2002 @ 10:09 a.m.

It's not good for me. This show is a horrifying display of women's cattiness, lack of self-respect and desperation. It is a mockery of romance. I know this. It's a form of moral perversion.

And, even more annoying, it brings out the sentimental romantic in me and makes me lose track of what is rational. It makes me want rings and flowers and declarations of true love and endless compliments and little platforms covered with flower petals. It gives me bad notions about romantic love, and the joy and jewellery that apparently follow it. It makes me want to be married, even though in practical fact I have no desire to be married at the age of 19.

It has recently come to my attention that perhaps I should be medicated.

Or I could go back to only watching BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, which presents love as difficult and sad. That's what I like to cheer myself up with: people using each other, breaking up, having drunken one-night stands, and getting shot. Again, perhaps I should be medicated.

today I made you a mixtape...
Tuesday, November 19, 2002 @ 10:39 p.m.

I am trying to learn about the distinction between information about myself that should be public and that which should be private. The internet has this tendency to take my existing boundary issues and make them much worse. In honour of this, I am not going to talk about the following issues:

  • underwear
  • sex
  • my psychological problems

Instead I am going to talk about:

  • Local sports teams (GO ESKIMOS!)
  • Weather (wooo! sunshine! +13 degrees tomorrow!)
  • THE BACHELOR (Who will he choose? And the related sub-question... who cares?)

And that old standby...

  • What I did on my summer vacation.

because you never made me very happy
Monday, November 18, 2002 @ 03:37 p.m.

all I want for Christmas is this: a pirate flag. You know why: because I NEEEEED IT!

Today was a beautiful day outside. If i had fallen asleep for a hundred years and woken up today, I would have thought it was spring. Also my clothes would probably have been out of style... and the air would be unbreathable, and I would die without a fancy mask or hovercar or whatever newfangled gadget people will be using one hundred years from now.

Based on my use of the word "newfangled," I would guess that I am much older than I think I am.

"I don't know... Internet?"
Sunday, November 17, 2002 @ 05:27 p.m.

don't give your heart to anyone
Saturday, November 16, 2002 @ 11:34 p.m.

Four cultural items I have recently seen/heard/read which I feel confident in commenting upon:

  • The new Harry Potter movie-- which is quite good, if you like Harry Potter movies, which I do; like the first one, it is visually engaging, faithful to the book, and shown in a theatre full of children with short attention spans. Also Kenneth Brannagh (whose name, I fear, I cannot spell) makes an appearance and he is excellent.
  • The new Stewart Lemoine play, VIDALIA, which is showing at the Varscona right now. I was somewhat disappointed in it. It is based on a briefcase mix-up schtick, which will be familiar to anyone who has lived in the world more than 10 minutes. However, Mark Meer is in it and he cut his hair, and he looks like a shockingly regular guy.
  • One book by David Sedaris, which I got from the library because Chris, also known as "Chris from Louisiana" (because I know many Chrises, but only one from Louisiana), mentioned it to me; and it's hilarious. And also kind of heartbreaking. I like things that are hilarious and heartbreaking, because those are the main elements in my life.
  • One Emmylou Harris cover of a Patty Griffin (I think?) song: something like forget about your honour, just kiss him if you wanna

And you say we've got nothing in common! No common ground to stand on!

I like songs which are flexible, which I can sing loudly and indiscriminately and with the punctuation providing emphasis in strange places. I like the weight of these words on my tongue.

The only websites I've looked at for about three days are internet shopping websites, and I'm not going to bother linking to them because none of them are exceptional and internet shopping websites are a dime a dozen. I could start one myself, and sell weird religious sprays and kitschy screen-printed t-shirts. Anyway, my urge to order and consume is fortunately over-ruled by my consummate broke-ness.

I should note that I do not know what the word "consummate" means, other than the verb with one 'm,' and I am using it anyway, hopefully being inadvertently hilarious and in this way winning your love and respect.

see, i've already waited too long
Friday, November 15, 2002 @ 07:05 p.m.

Things aren't going very well, I guess. I get the feeling that society is not going to reward me for yelling witty jokes and correct Jeopardy answers at the TV. Only, I'm so tired of trying to succeed. At times the loneliness and sorrow are so close I am paralyzed-- not literally paralyzed of course, because there is bus-riding and lectures and Scrabble-playing and movies and sex-- but paralyzed otherwise, and I want to disappear.

Of course, there are good moments too-- enough of a rough balance that we all stay tethered to this planet, to each other, as if we had a choice. I can see my breath outside at midnight, and my glasses fog up as we are singing. I sit in my chair and listen to very loud music. Also I am writing again.

I want some fucking mail. Is that too fucking much to ask?

But Dawn's litle song cheers me up, when I sing it out loud:

anchovies, anchovies, you're so delicious
I love you more than all the other fishes!

you'll say "man, well aren't I lucky/
I've found myself a crooked lady..."

I plug
Thursday, November 14, 2002 @ 08:57 a.m.

A good list of online retailers selling handmade clothes and accessories (and many of them are Canadian): soapbox magazine's buyer's guide. My birthday and Christmas are both coming up, in case you were wondering.

The Internet is great because it allows shy, neurotic people such as myself to shop in comfort and ease.

I would like you to know that although I am shy and neurotic, I am wearing my la senza pyjama pants and my Shopper's Drug mart smock and I am drinking juice and I didn't have any bad dreams and I am very happy.

Notes from the Underground
Wednesday, November 13, 2002 @ 09:35 p.m.

I had a whole bunch of homework to do tonight, so I did the logical thing: first I cleaned out the big pile of paper under my desk and sorted it into piles; then I read The Hobbit for an hour in my thrift store chair; then I movied my furniture around while deep vaccuuming my baseboard; and then I dusted my happy meal toys.

My father informs me that the stock market is improving, which means that I am once again making money by sitting on my ass. What a fine country we live in.

It's time for America's favourite game show... ME WANTEEE!
Tuesday, November 12, 2002 @ 01:02 p.m.

I'm having a bad day. I woke up in the morning, realized I had made a serious mistake in some work I did yesterday and that I would have to do it again, burned my finger on a hot iron, and then got email telling me I didn't get that RA job. But it's not like I'm depressed or anything. noooo, not me! Impossible!

Whaaaaa.

Busses are the best and also most depressing locations for overhearing conversations. Yesterday, on my way home, the couple sitting behind me made me really angry. The girl sounded sort of flaky and annoying, but that doesn't mean she deserved to be threatened and hit over the head with a rolled-up newspaper for three blocks. Which she was. I was about ready to start an intervention when they got off.

It's been snowing on and off for days, huge picturesque flakes that settle on shoulders and hair. At night, when the snow is lit by the streetlamps and it's falling diagonally, it's the most beautiful thing in the world. It makes me hungry.

feathers in her hair, and a dress cut down to there
Monday, November 11, 2002 @ 10:23 a.m.

I have dreams about oppressive social structures, now, and race relations. And swimming.

I like this long weekend a lot. I am working, and maybe later even doing homework.

It's nice that I don't have to go outside, and I can eat cookies for breakfast, and I'm in love.

It's nice.


Sunday, November 10, 2002 @ 04:58 p.m.

go read something else. I am on vacation for 24 hours.

the internet is
i am always