Friday, March 31, 2006
The biggest FUCK YOU I have is for Discount Tire and Wheel. FUCK YOU, DISCOUNT TIRE AND WHEEL!
I went to get my beautiful (messy), gorgeous, sexy car inspected yesterday and the guys at the Quicky Lube (KY or Astroglide?) place wouldn't gimme a sticker until I got 2 new tires. Well, I knew that was coming, I just didn't want to think about it.
So I trudged over to Discount Tire and Wheel where I was greeted by a very sweet countrified man with an out-of-control goatee. He was cute in a "Yes, ma'am, where would you like me to lick you?" way. There were dogs running about (King Charles Spaniels) greeting the customers and generally making the man-zone estrogen friendly. King Charles Spaniels take all the penis out of a tractor tire. I can now say that for sure.
So I order my tires..."good but not TOO good". The cheapest ones in stock were $89.00 a pop. Whatever. YES, I'll take 'em or I don't get my sticker you fuckers. I sit, I read The Professor's House, I play with the dogs, I listen to the worker's string of "ma'ams" in the background.
$211.00 and 2 tires, a rotation, and a balancing act later, I was on the road.
WITH INCREASED ROAD NOISE AND A CAR THAT FEELS LOOSER THAN A HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD WHORE!
I don't know if I've just gotten used to riding around on bald tires (if so, they handle MUCH better than new ones) or if there's a problem. I really do not want to go back to that god-forsaken place even though I could do with a few more ma'ams and asking the boy his sign.
TV: Tim "I Am Gay But I Am Still Acting Like I Bang Faith" McGraw
Listening: "White Wedding Dress"...Boy Sets Fire
Reading: That's a whole other rant.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Last night's SHITFEST of an American Idol was the only excitement 'round our house. My cousin and his wife and three kids came over to the house to pick up a loaner vehicle while his is in the shop. They had to come over during American Idol. While I was in the room with the TV, turned up to what should've been a decent listening level, the kids (14, 10, and 6) took it upon themselves to be obnoxious and limit my ability to enjoy the shittiness of last night's show. I only partially enjoyed the shittiness of Kelly Pickler, ManDIVA(*so* clever...haw-haw), Ace, Taylor, Lisa Tucker, Chris, and someone else, I think. I got enough to realize it was BAD last night, but I didn't truly appreciate most of the badness until the replays.
I just can't help but wonder, does Bucky's mom secretly giggle to herself that she named him THAT name, and he can eat corn through a picket fence?
Listening: "American Girl"...Counting Crows
Monday, March 27, 2006
First thing, given the plague of sleeplessness going around the department, I stayed up entirely too late watching Proof last night and reading and generally wasting time and straining my eyes for no good reason. The alarm blast sounded at 7am and I fell out of bed, hopped in the shower, emerged still comatose and screwed around on the computer until it was time to NOT put on makeup, throw on unattractive clothes, and take the dog to the vet for his weekly blood sugar tests.
I rolled on to C'vegas only to find that the same traffic light that's been blinking for a week is STILL BLINKING. This is the stoplight that I must pass through to get to school every morning, and that most of the commuters must pass through, thus causing one big angry mob of screaming flip'offishness and it's really tempting to run over one of the construction workers. It would ruin my underside spoilers or I'd be all over it like a buzzard on a dead possum.
I just didn't wanna be at work today. I just didn't. Nothing against my peeps or even the little Normans that come into work, but I just didn't wanna be there.
Stopped by to talk to a prof which should've made me feel better, but it just deflated me. He liked the paper he gave back, he brought me some books to assist in my search for divine wisdom on the next paper. I went back to the WC, read through 5 pages of his suggestions, promptly slit my throat with a rusty nail, and I'm blogging to you all from hell.
I found myself saying to Beth (and others at various times), "If anyone crosses me today, they're going to lose a ball."
The highlight of the day:
Little barely-English-speaking man comes in. He's been there before. I very slick-n-smoothly slid off my chair while he was signing in because the man is afflicted with the death breath. This is not a simple case of a wayward onion exhale or some such, this is the result of a belly full of dead mice. I disappeared into the break room and re-emerged once Goose had taken the job of helping him with a paper. I walked back over and perched in one of my favorite chairs, back turned to Mr. Dragon Breath, looked at Jeremy who said, "Good call." I replied, "Well, there aren't any peppermints left around here." We laughed until we cried, and it just wasn't that funny. But it was. It was a cosmic laughing-at-that-which-is-unfunny connection...doesn't happen very often. It made my jaws cramp.
Now I need to be reading. I haven't said this in a long time, but I'm really tired (and it's only 11:00!).
Sunday, March 26, 2006
He says, "Like what?"
She replies, "An egg....or one of those really smelly french cheeses that ooze out everywhere when you cut them."
I found a pair of his socks a few days ago. I just opened my sock drawer and there they were. After a year and a half. Almost two years. Whatever. I've opened my sock drawer a thousand times and never run into them, but there they were. Grey heels, grey toes...a wrong fit.
I fucking hate kids riding their bikes in my driveway. That's why it's MY DRIVEWAY.
I'm still burping up the Mexican food from lunch. Mmm, flautas.
My guilty pleasure song of the moment is that Bon Jovi song about going home. Whatever it's called. I only like the version with Jennifer Nettles (Sugarland) though. I feel like that should alleviate the guilt. Any song with a line about a "blind dog without a bone" should not make me shimmy.
Making my way uptown and down
Seeing familiar places
And faces in my pile of coffee grounds
The days are better
The nights are still so lonely
Sometimes I think I'm the only cab on the road
...OK, maybe not better, but it's not Bon Jovi.
I'm in super obsessive overdrive mode. I just wish I could flip a switch and shut my brain off so I could get some sleep. For the most part the thoughts are good...work-related, productive...but I still can't sleep. I started trying relatively early tonight just to get the hassle of tossing and turning out of the way. I got up after a while and downloaded "Cab," by Train. I watched Proof earlier. I've been trying to wind down. Not working.
In past relationships, and in my family relationships as well, it's been really tough on the people around me to understand what is going on with me when I'm like this. Someone will ask, "What's on your mind? What are you thinking?" and honestly there's no way to explain it. Where would I even start? And would they really care once I got going? Their eyes would glaze over and they'd pass out from boredom. It wouldn't be pretty. And sometimes it would hurt them.
Elise and I had this conversation during our cultural day. We're very similar in the way our minds work and the things we think/obsess about, I think. For me, it's work. Work work work. And emotional things, questions, ponderings, musings...pointless to others, poignant to me.
Right now for instance, I'm obsessing about a variety of things:
- The short story cycle and how it applies to Zora Neale Hurston's book, Mules and Men. I mean, I know it's a cycle narrative, and I think I have something mildly original to say about it and the use of authorial voice and its ties to the oral tradition, but I haven't ironed it out yet. The proposal is due Thursday and I want it to be good. Really good. And it may not be good by then in all honesty.
- Willa Cather's book The Professor's House. I'm thinking about symbolism and trying to guess where it's going to go. And I love it. I absolutely love it so far. And I'm excited about Cather and I think I may fall in love with her work. I'm thinking I want to be that good at SOMETHING someday.
- And I'm thinking about how much work I still have to do tomorrow and how much time it's going to take away from spending time with my mother and the dogs and possibly with the rest of my family at a birthday lunch. I need to work, but I need to NOT be a hermit. I feel guilty that I like my hermitude 98% of the time. If I died today I'd be happy with the way I lived, but if someone else died, I might feel guilty because I've had blinders on for the last seven months.
- I'm thinking about the sacrifices. I've sacrificed some things in the name of work and dedication to my education. I'm happy with it now, but I wonder if I'll be happy about it five years down the road.
- I worry now about how my mom will feel if I up and move to Illinois when it comes Ph.D. time. Even if it's not Illinois...even if it's Michigan or Florida...I'm still gonna feel guilty.
- I'm thinking of how much I love that movie, Proof. I love it because it cuts to the heart of all this bullshit that I'm blabbing about right now. The obsession, the compulsion. The love of STUDYING. Of writing and being creative. It sounds so fucking stupid, but I look for Truth in words. Some people look for it in math, some people look for it in art, some people look for it in literature. Truth. With a capital T. Something eternal and human that gets caught on a page and trapped there. Something to study, and dig around for, and analyze, and poke until it reveals all it has to reveal. It sounds maudlin, but I don't fucking care. It's what keeps me up at night. It's like being in love.
Friday, March 24, 2006
1) Research for a paper proposal. I think I'm writing on Zora Neale Hurston, and that's as far as I've gotten. NOT GOOD! I usually have my paper topics well-nailed by this time in the semester but this one is being elusive. I also have an annotated bib due in the same class coming up, so I might as well get a jump on the reading.
2) A textbook analysis. Shoot me.
3) Finish the WC website before Jeremy gets himself killed (for bugging me...oh yes).
4) Read through some submissions for the 'zine.
5) Read The Professor's House (Cather). I would say "finish" The Professor's House, but when only on page 15 or so, it might as well just be "read it."
Ugg. Why can't I just lay around and have sex dreams about Dr. Drew (posted below) and read The Human Stain or The Amber Spyglass?
Listening: Ani DiFranco
Thursday, March 23, 2006
I had a sex dream about Dr. Drew Pinsky from Loveline. I freely admit that I find Dr. Drew quite a tasty dish. Always have. Ever since I was too young to be watching Loveline on MTV. The silver hair is refined and you just KNOW there's something wild underneath that lab coat. I bet the man knows how to wield an instrument.
Obviously this dream is a result of pre-menstrual lust psychosis because I haven't thought about Dr. Drew, nor have I seen him on TV, in a long time. LONGGGG time. The dream is a little fuzzy and not nearly as graphic as I had hoped, but here's what I can remember.
I was at a university, surprise. I was seeing two guys (that is a surprise). One of them was Dr. Drew, and the other was either someone I know or someone mildly famous. Anyhoo, the one that wasn't Dr. Drew got mad at me for whatever reason and decided he was going to show a large group of people a sex tape we'd made (biggest surprise ever). I was HORRIFIED because Dr. Drew was among the throng (not thong, shuddup Johnny) and would certainly never touch my ho-bag self after that. So I left. I left the building in a huff because leaving would be the best way to avoid my head blowing up from embarrassment, and I didn't want to see the look on Dr. Drew's face. One problem: I got outside and remembered I'd forgotten my keys inside the building.
So I had to walk back in, and I walked back in just in time to catch the end of the sex tape. BUT, much to my surprise, Dr. Drew wasn't mad! I was a lot taken aback and figured he just wanted to tap it and tape it, too. Dr. Drew told me that everyone made mistakes and he loved me just the way I was (very Bridget Jones about the whole thing). I gave the other guy a dirty look before Drew and I retired to my shabby-chic bungalow for what would be a night of hot pig sex.
The next thing I knew, that dream had completely dissolved and I found myself on a 3-person moped with Elise and someone I didn't know, touring London. Damn the sandman! I didn't even get to be part of the best of the Dr. Drewness because the dream-switch happened just before.
Just my luck.
Listening: "Not Fade Away"...Buddy Holly
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
New posts below this one....
OK, I need you, gentle readers. In order to write a compendium of sexiness for next month's issue of Estella's Revenge I need your input. PLEASE.
Please leave a description of your favorite love scene from a movie. Title, summary, and why you love it!
Monday, March 20, 2006
This is a total worthless bullshit post in which I will pass some kickass links.
Abe Vigoda...just click on it, damnit.
And my favorite Long & Foster real estate agent:
Compliments of the Johnny Utah Symposium. The funniest shit this side of anything.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
I knew that midnight trip to IHOP was likely to signal the onslaught of amoebic dysentery. *bangs head against wall*
I just turned one of my popup blockers off to spell check and I have no idea how to get it back on. There it is! Got it back on. That's probably the one good thing that will happen all day.
OK, I'm gonna rant and bitch and feel sorry for myself. Why? Because Spring Break is over. You may be thinking, "Hey! Andi, look at the bright side, you've got today! You've got today to stay in your pj's and eat fatty food and lust after celebrities! It's ok! Most people don't get a spring break...you ungrateful, rabid bitch!"
But it is over today. I hate Sundays. Sundays are like death. They may technically symbolize a beginning...the beginning of the week...yadda yadda. But I hate Sundays. I always get ultra-bitchy on Sundays and usually end up arguing with someone.
Apparently, before we left school for Spring Break, I became a crack addict and didn't know, because I said I would teach one of my prof's classes all this next week. Beginning tomorrow. At noon. Adolescent lit. Now, on the one level, I'm REALLY grateful for the opportunity! She'll be in there..watching..interacting. She'll help me improve. Yeah! Right on! But on the other hand, she'll be there. Watching. Critiquing. Observing. Oh God. There's the dysentery again. *grumble*
I don't know what I was thinking. I can't be held responsible if it was momentary hysteria and mental instability, right? It's been a long time since I taught lit, and I don't think I did very well the first time around. *stabs self in nasal cavity with pitchfork*
Funny story before I go curl up in the fetal position.
Yesterday it rained. Actually, it's still raining. A torrential flood for Texas after that long draught. We're thinking of fashioning an ark from coffee stirrers and the above-ground pool.
So, it's been raining. Torrentially.
Smidgen is a bit picky about her potty conditions. She's 15 pounds of 16-year-old dog, she hates the rain, noise and too much physical contact scares her. It would've been traumatic to put her out in the back yard on the stepping stones to do her biz because the rain/noise/etc. would've scared the 16-year-old fur right off her. So my mother asked me to take her, on her leash, out on the front porch to do a tinkle. I was dressed (sort of...Snoopy tee and workout pants) and mom was in her jammies. So I said yes, harnessed the pup up and out we went onto the porch, which, I should mention, is privatified by waist-high box hedges. So we go, she finds the flower bed, under the hedges, and squats. *thumbs up to mom in the door watching* She then proceeds to crawl on through the tiniest opening in the hedges, out into the rain, on her leash, with me holding onto the other side in a compromising position. I couldn't let go of the leash and scamper around to the other side because she's a runner and would be gone in a flash before I even got around the hedges (longgg porch...longggg hedges). I couldn't jump over because fluffy girls don't even think of doing shit like that and I wanted to live to see my life after Spring Break (even though now I see it might've been better to impale myself on a hedge). Mom's still in her jammies, so she runs for a housecoat. Smidgen is getting drenched, looking none too happy about it. I'm hunched over trying to bribe her back through the hedges. Scooby and Dash are watching, laughing, and pointing with their droll doggy eyebrows. Finally, mom returns with housecoat in place, takes the leash, and I run, in my comfortables out into the rain, pick up the soaking wet dog-smelling dog, and run back to the safety of the porch.
Last night, before bed. We put her out on the stepping stones in the rain, and she was FINE. We're fuckin' stupid humans.
In my head: Blah blah wah wah yadda pfffffft!
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Next we skipped over to Fort Worth to The Kimbell, The Amon Carter, and The Modern. I haven't been over there since The Modern re-built, and I have to say, it is STUNNING. It's huge compared to the building they had before, and they can display much more of the permanent collection, which is really impressive. I "had a moment" with several of the pieces. Some of which include:
*Note: these will be inserted later when Blogger isn't being a little bitch.
We felt very highbrow at one point, sitting in the Kimbell before we cavorted through the Gauguin impressionism exhibit. We were lounging in the cafe drinking Perrier and eating $3.00 brownies. The brownie was like chocolatey heaven, so I can't complain. We decided 1) most museums are barrel-shaped in some form or fashion and 2) it looked like a mausoleum, especially with reliefs hanging on the walls.
After the museums, we headed over to Mockingbird Station for gelato at Gelato Paradiso. The Irish pub was hoppin', but we weren't feelin' the St. Patty's celebratory spirit. I was more interested in my strawberry and sweet cream gelato, and in window-peepin' into the lofts above the stores.
After a short stint at Mockingbird, we went out to World Market on the way home so Elise could stock up on wine. We picked up some pita chips and some spinach and artichoke dip to munch on. We ended up back at her place watching Donnie Darko and...*hanging head*...Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Dirty Dancing may well have been as bad as Donnie Darko was good. Last night was Elise's first time seeing my beloved Donnie. When it was over and I asked if she liked it, we got off on this very impressive conversation involving Deconstruction, binaries, diagetic levels of narration, intradiagetic narrators, extradiagetic narrators, subjectivity, agency, dopplegangers, and deus ex machina. We sounded like we really knew what we were talking about, which gives me hope that I really am learning something in graduate school. Paper ideas are running out my ass, and I hope we can get a panel together for Pop Culture next year. Woot!
We wined and watched til all hours, and I came home and went to bed. Overall, a very successful cultural day since we touched on Mexican culture, Japanese, Italian, American, Texican, and we're both Irish'ish.
So there. A happenin' day with Elise and Andi. Now I've gotta read for Picture Books.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
I have to say, I'm proud of the way it came out! Quantum-Catie has done an AMAZING feature called "How Poetry Saved My Life" (made me cry), we've got some great reviews, alotta snark, and Heather's design makes me melt. Now, I just hope people read it.
If you'd like to link the site, I've provided some buttons for your linky pleasure. Simply go to: Estella's Revenge and click on "About" on the main page.
I'm gonna go die now. *bending wrists*
E-mail me (with the link on the site) if you find any dead links or anything. It's entirely possible.
And as an added bonus, Heather cracked me up by posting this on her blog. This is a nicely done "stack" from Stuff On My Cat. What's really sad is that I have 98% of those pics on my computer and use them as desktop wallpaper. I see October Sky in the background there. Almost rented it for this week's viewing pleasure, but I went with Proof instead.
Listening: "Anthem of Our Dying Day"
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
It was a good time. After sitting around talking literature (drunk but still talking books) I realized how so insanely ass-happy glad I am that I have friends who enjoy the same things I do. First. Time. Ever.
*********************Random Topic Switch***************************
Before I left for Elise's I was watching American Idol. Now, I know more of you are watching than are willing to admit, so if you're one of those cowardly shitbirds I'll throw out my amusing comments and you can laugh on the down-low and keep your cool factor high. Mine was blown to kingdom-come a zillion years ago, so I'm not worried.
Ace: Good voice, nice hair, jeans that hang just so on the hipular bones, good rhythm indicating above-average horizontal performance. He gets my vote. Even though he fucked up a Stevie Wonder song.
Kevin Covais: Appealing to Amish girls everywhere. This kid has a halfway decent voice (HALFWAY) but looks like a baby bird and dances like a retarded circus clown. Tonight he sang....are you ready? are you sitting?...."Part-time Lover." Who in the holy name of the Jesi put the thought in this kiddo's head that he should EVER tarnish the wonderfulness of Stevie Wonder with his dork-ass performance? Whoever is responsible should be de-balled with a potato peeler.
*****************Random Topic Switch*******************
Why in the name of the Jesi is the Jeff Foxworthy Show on Nick at Nite?? I've just lost all faith in humanity. Give me Kotter, give me Tyler Moore, give me the Cosby family (even Theo), but NEVER EVER Jeff Foxworthy. He simply cannot compete with the legends of television.
Monday, March 13, 2006
"So please--before you think about hurting someone over this trifle of a film, remember: even God has a sense of humor. Just look at the platypus.
Thank you and enjoy the show."
We're brilliant and should be famous. That's my conclusion. Great minds....
1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18 and find line 4.
"Now he remembered that the main entrance gate was on a side road that branched off well before the Banner place." Close Range (Annie Proulx)
2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can, what do you find?
Wall and red curtain with goldenrod Japanese symbols all over.
3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
"Everybody Loves Raymond" was on mute. It made me want to cut my tongue out with a sharp stone.
4. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
Rascal Flatts ("Feels Like Today" album) and my fish tank gurgling.
5. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
I went to run some errands in C-merce and G'vegas. Went to lunch with Rachel, and then I drove around aimlessly in the beautiful weather with my sunroof open.
6. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
Amanda’s blog, The Blog Jar, and Heather's Blog, A High & Hidden Place.
7. What are you wearing?
My favorite sleepwear, Snoopy t-shirt.
8. Did you dream last night?
Yes, but I have no idea what it was about.
9. When did you last laugh?
About 15 mins ago when I finished my curriculum vitae and laughed a bitter laugh at my lack of accomplishment.
10. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
Texture. I keep thinking I'll hang pics and I never do.
11. Seen anything weird lately?
A man/woman wearing a lobster bib at the Clay Pit last weekend. I'd forgotten about it until now, but it was pretty fuckin' weird.
12. What do you think of this quiz?
Lovely. Because I love me.
13. What is the last film you saw?
Jarhead..and are we surprised?
14. If you turned a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
A man-whore. Just kidding Mom (almost).
15. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.
I secretly love Totino's frozen pizzas.
16. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt and politics, what would you do?
I'd string Dubya and his cronies up by their man-twats.
17. Do you like to Dance?
Yes, and I'm half-African American so I have good rhythm. Actually, my mama raised me on Aretha. Same difference.
18. George Bush.
Worthless piece of owl shit.
19. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Grace Eris. Eris is a weird middle name that runs in my family. It was my grandfather's middle name, and it's my mom's middle name, and if it's goin' any further, it'll have to be because of my kid(s).
20. Imagine your first child is a boy, what would you call him?
I suck at boy names. Because I'm adopting a girl, thankyouverymuch.
21. Would you ever consider living abroad?
In 1/3 of a heartbeat I would say YES!
22. What would you want God to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
I have a good sense of humor, so I didn't really mind all those blasphemous comments...*cough*.
23. 4 people who must also do this meme in their journal.
Whoever feels the urge. Although I strongly push the urge vibes at Elise and Jeremy.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Submit abstract for South Central MLA conference coming to Dallas in October. Submit abstract for the International Comics Association Conference coming to D.C. in October. This involves one totally new abstract and tweaking another and rewriting the paper so it's not the same thing I presented in Albuquerque.
I also need to polish the Chick Lit paper from last semester and submit it to some conference somewhere. Probably next year's American Literature Association. Also need to attempt to polish up the annotated bib that went with that paper for potential publication.
In addition, I need to be working on a paper topic for a special issue of MELUS over multi-ethnic graphic narrative.
And I need to inquire about book reviews for Children's Lit Quarterly and one other that slips my mind this very moment.
And get the webzine ready.
And do the websites for the WC and Junto.
But I've already read the book for Modern American Lit when we return to school. Woot!
I get ambitious (and nutty) at night.
Music: Majorette..."Girl Like Me"
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Does the little girl with the jacked up eyes on the "The Hills Have Eyes" movie trailer freak anyone else the fuck out?
My mother read my blog. Did I mention that?? She was surprisingly cool given the fact that she was faced with a barrage of fucks coming out of her "ladylike" daughter. Ladylike is a term that needs to be buried right alongside Nick Nolte. He needs to get on with the dying already. Then maybe they'll show a picture OTHER than his mug shot.
Stevie Knicks is NOT angsty enough. "Trouble in Shangri-La." Woo.
I can't sleep.
I'm embarrassed to say that the show "Cheaters" is a Dallas thing. Joey Greco is almost as creepy as the gotch-eyed girl on the movie trailer.
TV: Cheaters...on mute
Listening: Sunshine Anderson..."Heard It All Before"
Reading: Dianetics (hugest scam ever) and Cane by Jean Toomer
In my head: A massive pain in my ass.
Friday, March 10, 2006
- Dianetics, by L. Ron Hubbard (because I wanna know what the hell the John Travolta and Tom Cruise are studying)
- Three of the "introducing" books. They're short, graphic novely books on various philosophers. I got the ones on Derrida, Sartre, and one on Romanticism.
- Great Short Works of Willa Cather because we were talking about "The Sculptor's Funeral" in class last night and I was intrigued.
- The End of the Affair, by Graham Greene (it's Donnie Darko's fault)
- Collected Essays of Graham Greene (there are some goodies in there)
- The Shipping News, by Annie Proulx, because I'm in love with her stories and it won a Pulitzer.
- Film Theory: An Introduction, by Robert Stam to replace my undergrad film book that I sold. I need it to write a paper on Donnie Darko.
- The Great Women Cartoonists, by Trina Robbins. Graphic novel about graphic artistis! Woop! Looks really interesting
I love boooks!
I'm going to read Cane, by Jean Toomer. Trying to get ahead on school reading.
He hopped on the door lock button.
My schnauzer is now sitting in the Jeep, looking around, rather bored, waiting for my mom to come back from the Jeep house with a new key so we can get him out.
Yeah, her purse and both sets of keys were in there with him.
As soon as we liberate the dog we're going book shopping (Half-Price). Wooo!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Morning, lovelies! I slept for NINE HOURS last night. I bought Jarhead (extended edition 2-disc set) and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire yesterday. Now, you all know how much work I have to do since I've been bitching about it endlessly, but I got a LOT done yesterday. I finished reading TWO BOOKS and started writing my review, and started reading a third novel (In Our Time). I was too sleepy to absorb anything noteworthy last night, and I was too tired to open Pandora's box of short story writing, so I got horizontal with Jake; I watched the extras from Jarhead before I watched the back of my eyelids for nine hours. I promise I'll stop posting pics of him (eventually)...before you all revolt (the guys anyway) and stop reading.
I have nothing to say because I've had my head up my arse all week. As of tomorrow night I'm on SPRING BREAK and promise to entertain you til you want me to leave you the fuck alone.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
I'm hovering on the edge of a meltdown, so I'll post something more when my brain works again.
Dana Reeve died of lung cancer last night at 44 years old. I feel for their 13-year-old son. I can't imagine losing both of my parents that way.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
I got home from the reception in time to watch the last hour of the Oscars, and I just need to say, BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN GOT ROBBED! I'm sure Crash is a great film, but I was really pullin' for Brokeback to take home Best Picture. Given, Ang Lee did win best director, McMurtry and whats-her-name won best adapted screenplay, but COME ON. It needed best picture. And if we wanna talk about screwin', Walk the Line really got it up the pooper. Reese Witherspoon took home Best Actress (thank God or I would've put on my own riot). Joaquin deserved something...even an honorary Best Actor since Philip Seymour Hoffman nailed the Capote part.
*grumble grumbleBrokebacklostgrumble grumble*
I'm going to work on my short story, and then I'm going to bed early. Really.
On TV: "Everybody Loves Raymond"
Listening: "Reasons Why"...Nickel Creek
In my head: The urge to read some Annie Proulx
I promised myself I was going to bed at a decent hour. Here it is at 2:28am and I'm still awake. Why? Well, it's actually a combination of work and fun, so I shouldn't feel like a complete jerk.
I got about 2/3's of the book read for my book review that's coming due this week. Now I just have to finish the last 1/3 and write a 5-8 page review. Awesome! *eyes roll back in head*
I also knocked off big chunks of Disturbing the Universe and Curious Incident, which I'll be teaching in a few weeks. They really need to be DONE this week so I can discuss the content with the prof whose class I'm teaching.
Oh, and a novel for 521. Right. Short, but still another book to read.
And I got a draft of a feature for the zine done. As well as some work on the website and some of the peripheral pages (one for links, one for icons for other people to link to us).
Didn't get to the short story today. Maybe tomorrow night when I'm not sleeping. I'll just be mainlining Excedrin until Spring Break.
One more week to frrrreeeedom!
Tomorrow: A trip to the Clay Pit with Elise, TheOtherFeminist, some of Fem's numbered children, and I'll be thinking of Eil. Then I'll be coming home to do work and then going to a reception. I'm focusing on the food, though. Visualize the hot, steamy naan. Let's check out the menu, shall we:
Cream of Garlic Soup
Potatoes and Green Beans
Carrots and Peas
Chicken Mirch Masala
Beef Tikka Masala
Fruits and Cream
I'm all over the soups, the chicken pakoras, the masalas, and the fruits and cream. Oh. My. God. And the mango lemonade! *happy sounds*
On TV: A Night at the Roxbury, which I hate.
Listening: Alison Krauss & Union Station (I feel bad leaving the Union Station part out. What's a siner without a band?)
In head: PAIN.
Friday, March 03, 2006
To put it simply and briefly, the short story is about a fuckin' angry guy who REALLY doesn't want to be laid over at the airport. Let your imagination wander and you probably still won't guess what this sociopath does.
It all started with the perfect song. Back when I was a real artist who painted and sketched and did monotypes and shit, I had to have a song when I worked. The perfect song. The song might be the perfect song for hours, even days at a time. If I was in the studio with a class full of pseudo-intellectual Baptist University shmucks or all alone on a Sunday afternoon, the perfect song was the key ingredient, not to inspiration, but to the delivery of inspiration to canvas. I was going through a massive Dave Matthews phase, so "#41" could do me for a good week before I got sick of it. Sarah McLachlan, David Grey, and Jann Arden were my steady standbys.
There was one particular guy in my drawing class that I actually admired. He wasn't terribly pretentious and his work was kickass. I rarely talked to anyone in that class because they were all very standoffish. I went into that class with warrior mentality because the teacher was notoriously difficult, so I suppose I was standoffish as well. Anyway, one day in the midst of a feverish round of coffee wash (a technique for staining a drawing) he looked over at my board for a few minutes. I smiled. He looked some more. I knew he wanted to speak, so I took my headphones. off.
"Good work," he said.
"Thanks. I like this more than I thought."
"Whatcha listening to?" he asked.
"What's your favorite album?"
He smiled. He walked away. I went back to work. From then on he spoke when he saw me immersed in the muse, often asking if I was listening to my favorite album or was it something different that day? The conversations were never long. They were never about more than music, but they were always about more than music. I think there's an admiration among artists, especially visual artists, for how others find that place where it feels like your hand can never keep up with your mind. You can never catch everything you're feeling on the canvas...never capture just how you see things. You have to harness the passing wave the best you can. When you can see the wave in the work, you know you've succeeded. It's just a shadow, but a little piece of the moment is caught forever.
The other day I actually caught myself thinking..."Can you still do it? Can you still paint? Is it still in you?" I'm happy with writing (obviously), I'm happy with study, but I find I go back to my past often and I work the visual into my studies of literature. Once it's in you, I guess it never really leaves.
Now I find myself trying to catch the wave with my words. Always reaching for something.I just drank a cup of coffee. On purpose. I don't even recognize myself anymore.
On TV: home improvement shows
Listening: "#41" from Live at Luther College, Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds
Planning: To watch Donnie Darko or Walk the Line pre-Junto con Elise
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The stars will cry
The blackest tears tonight
And this is the moment that I live for
I can smell the ocean air
And here I am
Pouring my heart onto these rooftops
Just a ghost to the world
Exactly what I need
From up here the city lights burn
Like a thousand miles of fire
And I'm here to sing this anthem
Of our dying day
"Anthem of Our Dying Day", Story of the Year
On TV: Will and Grace (which I only watch for Harry Connick, Jr.)
Music: See above.
Reading: The Cambridge Companion to Modernism
In my head: Dreamy doables.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Little things making me happy lately are plentiful. I went out and bought Walk the Line today and watched it tonight while I should've been reading for a book review that's due next week. I'd rather watch Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon and listen to Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash anyday. I'm still completely in love with the movie, and listening to Johnny Cash still makes me cry. Favorite Johnny songs: "It Ain't Me Babe"....close second: Girl from the North Country...live with Bob Dylan.
Go away from my window
Leave at your own chosen speed
I'm not the one you want babe
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're looking for someone
Who's never week but always strong
To protect you and defend you
Whether you are right or wrong.
Someone to open each and every door
But it ain't me babe
No no no it ain't me babe
It ain't me you're lookin' for babe.
The fourth Harry Potter movie comes out on DVD next week, so y'all know I'll be all over that. Other little things: an Indian food outing this weekend, Donnie Darko pre-Junto on Friday, my freakin' crazy friends.
I haven't mentioned it officially here, but I'm starting a webzine entitled Estella's Revenge. You can see the temporary template at http://www.estellasrevenge.com
We'll have a real page rolling soon, and I hope to get the first round of content up in a few weeks. I have a crazy-ass talented bunch of people who are planning to write. SO excited.
But I'm goin to bed now. I'm forcing myself. I'm going to bed with Gavin Degraw and I hope he'll lull me into dreamland. The chances are slim to none, but at least I'll enjoy the awake-time.
I haven't been sleeping much, and it's my own fault. I 'm exhausted every night but I always have something I'd rather do than sleep. Watch a movie, read a book, listen to a CD, blog, give myself a pedicure, deep-condition my hair, achieve world peace, adopt an Indonesian orphan.
On TV: That naked chef guy.
Music: Walk the Line soundtrack
Reading: a book on American Modernism
In my head: Flatline.
Eil's Kick-Ass Kalamata Meatballs
(based on recipes from The Velvet Hookah and allrecipes.com)
1 lb. ground lamb or beef
about 1 dozen kalamata olives, pitted and chopped
1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled
2 tablespoons dried parsley OR 1/2 cup fresh chopped parsley
Spices to taste: salt, pepper, garlic powder (or minced fresh garlic), oregano, thyme, etc.
Preheat your oven's broiler. In a large bowl, mix the ground meat, olives, feta, parsley, spices and eggs together and squish it all up with your hands until it's nice and mushy and the egg is uniformely distributed. Give it a few good sniffs to make sure you've got the spices right. I ended up adding a lot more garlic powder, but spice flavor is a very personal thing, in my opinion, so use your nose and see what smells right.
Shape mixture into meatballs; you should have around twenty if you make the meatballs about an inch in diameter. Pop those babies under the broiler until they start to brown (appx. 7 minutes), then roll them over and brown the other side. When they're nice and browned, pull them out and crack one open to make sure there's no pink left inside. Aaaaand you're done!
Eil made these with red pepper and garlic couscous and sautéed veggies (yellow squash, red and green bell peppers, onion, tomato), and she says (and I agree), "Oh mah GOD, it's one hell of a meal. Food porn if I've ever seen it, baby!"