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"i think grey is the new blue."

more me, me, fabulous me
[a boy]
[a girl]
[buy me stuff]

these people are my friends

a few of my favourite things
[fifty fresh pitas]
[damn hell ass kings]
[eric conveys an emotion]
[amplified to rock]
[mary chen]
[oh messy life]
[atlantic unbound]
[emily strange]
[exploding dog]
[art of the mix]
[red balloon]
[the new varscona]
[the sims]
[malcolm in the middle]
[wild colonials]
[disturbing search requests]
[hey! url!]
[u of a]
[canada post]
[divide by zero]
[1000 journals]

l < subversive > ?
boys [suck]

i've been
fucking imood
since march 1st, 2000!

you know it's tough/and you can never get enough...
Sunday, October 21, 2001 @ 02:49 p.m.

"Who could possibly be phoning me... everyone i know lives with me!" -Buffy

"During the industrial revolution many changes took place. The most serious economic problem would be in the area of money." -one of my dad's grade 11 students, answering a question about the economic problems caused by the industrial revolution

I've had such a productive weekend, it's scary. I need to spend several hours watching TV tonight to make up for it.

Yes... Wait! No!
Saturday, October 20, 2001 @ 09:53 a.m.

Never mind.

OK, so: last week Meghan and I went shopping ("shopping!") and as i bought a pair of grey pants at some store in West Ed., I commented to her, "I think grey is the new blue," and the cashier glanced at me appraisingly, one eyebrow raised, with a look that clearly said she thought I was an idiot.

We discussed it and agreed that in an ideal sort of capitalist society, the employees at trendy clothing stores should not be allowed to make us feel inferior... I mean, are we or are we not the ones with the money? (Well, we're not, but they don't know that... and they treat everyone the same way.)

More email woes
Thursday, October 18, 2001 @ 09:31 a.m.

I am somehow subscribed to a mailing list I never subscribed to. Every day I get dozens of emails from people on the mailing list, sending me viruses. I also get a few plaintive "remove me from the list" messages sent by other people who are, I suspect, in my exact same position in attempts to get OFF the list. But nothing happens except I read them and want to cry. The whole thing is very absurd. It's like a secret club no one wants to be in.

In other news, I had a scary dream that I had leeches between my toes and woke up terrified at four this morning. I looked around my room, which all that same weird very-early-morning-grey colour, and wondered whether I would still be able to respect myself if I actually CHECKED between my toes (because even after I was awake I could hear them crawling). Then I started thinking about how, in the book Congo, they have to burn the leeches off each other with cigarettes because if you just pull them off, a piece of the head stays in the skin and gets infected; and I wondered if that was leeches in general, or just bigass carnivorous Congonian leeches. Then I started thinking about why I couldn't see colours in the dark and whether it was the rods or the cones that were responsible and then I fell back asleep.

I remember all this very clearly.

Now I am going to go have some Froot Loops and read the comics, to cheer myself up. This is starting out as rather a bad day.

don't fall in love
Monday, October 15, 2001 @ 03:51 p.m.

So: James and I went to the Sing-A-Long Sound of Music yesterday, and it was, in a word, splendid. I think moviegoing in general would be better if the audience were encouraged to cheer the good guys, boo the nazis, dress up as people from the movie, and shout instructions to the characters. I mean, it's just a lot more fun.

bedtime reading... gives you nightmares!
Saturday, October 13, 2001 @ 09:42 p.m.

Douglas Coupland, on his habit of storing all the electronic cables for his laptop in Tupperware: "It's for travelling. This is really great, because I have to go through security every day at the airport, and I keep it upside down like that. At first they're like, 'Osama Bin Laden!' Then they say, 'Wow, I wish everyone did that!' And I always come through the X-ray thing like a hero."

I spent forty-five minutes this afternoon being a dadaist in honour of the film le chien andalou, which I read about in my film studies textbook: "The widely known if deliverately mysterious 'symbolism' of the film-- the hero's striped fetishes, his yoke of priests, donkeys, and grand pianos, a woman's buttocks that dissolve into breasts, the death's head moth and ants eating blood-- for long dominated critical discussion, but recent attention has turned to the structure of the editing by which these images are achieved. The film constructs irrational spaces from its rooms, stairways, and streets, distoring temporal sequence, while its two male leads disconcertingly resemble each other as their identies blur..."
Right. Well, uh, you heard it here first. Dadaism. That's what I'm all about. Da da!

"here's the deposit... i taped it up real good!"
"oh good, i'll stick it in my pants!"
"but you're supposed to deposit it!"
"oh my god, i'm glad you told me..."

Proposition (not THAT kind of proposition... unfortunately)
Friday, October 12, 2001 @ 10:52 p.m.

I think that (a) the writers of Cosmopolitan magazine and (b) the apparent "serious" readers of Cosmopolitan, ie, the people who write in earnest letters confessing that they had sex with their best friend's fiancee, AT the wedding, IN the cake, and lied about it afterward to their godparents, do not exist. They're not real people. They couldn't possibly be. I don't know anyone in real life who is (a) that obsessed with sex and (b) that self-absorbed. At least... I hope there are no such people. I prefer Maxim, which is like the men's equivalent to Cosmo except at least they don't take themselves too seriously. You know? I mean, Cosmo is presented like some kind of... Bible for living. Eight articles with new sexual positions and "how to drive him wild," or something to that effect; two pages of ab exercises; one page of advice to how to suck up to your boss; and one page on good feng-shui for your apartment (which in turn will lead to... better sex and a promotion at work). I should stop reading it. It makes me feel incredibly superior, yet incredibly inadequate.

Also, I should stop playing Tetris for an hour at a time. It's hard on my eyes.

Wow... an actual update that's not all about me.
Monday, October 8, 2001 @ 08:35 p.m.

Now you, too, can have the Kama Sutra in its most convenient format yet... for your PalmPilot! Consider it your palm pilot of love...

Monday, October 8, 2001 @ 05:39 p.m.

I was sitting in the Safeway parking lot this afternoon after work staring at an old Volvo parked across from us when I noticed the emblem on the hood was of the male symbol with the word "volvo" embossed across the front. It must have been a pretty old car, since I'd guess they got rid of THAT particular logo quite awhile ago.

Anyway, it reminded me of those good ole days when I used to be Pseudo-Monarch of the Lobster Nation, Curator of the Esoteric Temple of the Spheres, and Editor of the Encyclopedia of Bad Taste, and, in particular, of this little bit of web-brilliance:

[original scanning and animation by cam, who was the Chief Executive Officer of all subsidiary companies of the Lobster Nation and the Spin Doctor, and emailed me upon the lobster nation's conception to congratulate me on the "fucking brilliance" of a society whose only purpose is to drink koolaid.]

...and, to be honest, it just made me a little nostalgic. What better way to deal with yearning for the past than to resurrect a little piece of it in the present?

i think now is the time for a little bath, a little turkey, and a little psych. in that order. happy turkey-day, everyone, with love from me.


ALL MEN SHOULD READ THIS (unless you are an adult movie star)
Saturday, October 6, 2001 @ 03:46 p.m.

For every ten email messages I get...

  • two are from people i actually know
  • three are related to increasing my penis size (haha, if only they knew)
  • one is promising free pictures of hot teen girls
  • two are promising to help me lose weight quickly and easily (but usually not cheaply)
  • one is a random email from some religious wingnut/convicted rapist/mental patient asking for my advice, my phone number, or my religious guidance
  • and one is an email virus from a complete stranger with the body of the message, "i am asking your advice," or something. I consider it a good day is this message is in another language, which it sometimes is.

it's really sad.

can you dig it?
Friday, October 5, 2001 @ 10:15 p.m.

"that's a'ight"
"as if that's not, like, the cutest sweater ever!"
"she's an absolute bitch... and i don't mean in a good way."

Wednesday, October 3, 2001 @ 10:01 a.m.

this is actually the third time I've tried to post this, so we'll see how it goes. So far so good...

"You will find some lines about a swan here, if you get as far as that, and i should have explained to you in the Note that Christopher Robin, who feeds this swan in the mornings, has given him the name of 'Pooh'. This is a very fine name for a swan, because, if you call him and he doesn't come (which is a thing swans are good at), then you can pretend that you were just saying, 'Pooh!' to show how little you wanted him." -A. A. Milne, in the Introduction to When We Were Very Young, 1925.

Fun bonus babysitting tidbitTM: "Hey Symon, does your mom usually read you a story before you go to sleep?" "Yes, if by 'usually' you mean 'amost never'!"

hold up!
Sunday, September 30, 2001 @ 09:22 p.m.

you ain't the only one with a baby! and that's no excuse to be living all crazy!

deletia: your pants will never be the same.
Thursday, September 27, 2001 @ 03:49 p.m.

it's brilliantly sunny outside-- like an ad for edmonton thirty years ago when this city was new-- so i sat in my retro orange deck chair, totally blissed out and half-asleep for half an hour this afternoon right after i got home, the riverside shakespeare (a brick of a book, heavy with the plays i haven't read and WILL BE TESTED ON) ambitiously sitting closed in my lap. the weather has also got that characteristic fall-bite, though: it's cold. so, i am wearing a tshirt, a sweatshirt, and two pairs of socks. and pants. yeah, i thought that was a nice touch.

nostalgic summer '01 canoe trip moment:
"i'm going to wear pants!"
"what a treat!"

"i wish i had a monkey" (some uplifting tuesday-morning free verse)
Tuesday, September 25, 2001 @ 03:52 p.m.

monkeys are cute.
they're hella smart, too.
i bet you could train a monkey
to vaccuum and walk the dog.
if i had a monkey
i would let it watch talk-TV
and do finger-paintings
that i'd put on my fridge.
but there would be rules
[there always are]:
no banana peels on the stairs
no staying up late on school nights
and no margaritas
[it's a waste of tequila.]
i wish i had a monkey.

it's twenty-seven degrees in the city...
Tuesday, September 25, 2001 @ 03:39 p.m.

and it feels like it, too.

i think i cooked my lasagna for so long, i brought it to a boil.

"You're not any fun to be with," Merrill told me. "You're in love, you know," he said. "And that's not fun at all..."
"No, he's not in love," said Biggie. "We're not in love at all." She looked at me for reassurance, as if to say, We're not, are we?
"Certainly not," I said, but I was nervous.
"You certainly are," said Merrill, "you poor stupid bastard..." Biggie looked at him, shocked. "Jesus, you too," he told her. "You're both in love. I don't want anything to do with either of you."

-the water-method man

Reading my website, you would think all I ever read is John Irving books, but that's actually pretty close to the truth; so I guess it's OK. It's just because I keep buying them, and every time I buy one, I have to reread it. John Irving books and Jesuit letters... that's all I ever read.

rockin' the suburbs
Monday, September 24, 2001 @ 02:34 p.m.

let me tell ya'll what it's like
being male, middle class and white
it's a bitch, if you don't believe
listen up to my new CD
sham on

i can't believe how fallish it is. the leaves are already turning in the river valley. soon it will be dark all the time again. wasn't it july yesterday?

the solution: sleep.

what happened next...
Thursday, September 20, 2001 @ 07:13 p.m.

I never have to put my shirt back on.


It's not my fault; I had bad dreams last night and woke up too early.