I would like to find this person in my past who planted in my mind the notion that I was in some way remarkable--I would throttle her before she could speak another word.
I used to be the sort of person who didn't like songs with handclaps. Hey, Johnny Mellancamp, I'd say, hire a drummer or it's not going to hurt so "good" anymore, you get me? Hey Bruce, I don't care who calls you The Boss, I'm not going to be your rhythm section. Hey... Read More
After I went grey and became a spook around these parts I noticed a little something called Poetry Wednesdays. I also noticed that it died pretty quickly. Well, it's past midnight now: here's a poem I rather like by a poet I read a lot. For your reading pleasure I reprint below Al Purdy's "Necropsy of Love":
I am very cheap. All about saving that extra dollar, whenever I can. Did somebody say "clearence?" Having money doesn't exactly make me feel happy, but it makes me feel secure, which means that all that time I might have spent worrying about money, I can use to be happy, instead.
I think I really need to be referred to as "Creepy Uncle Ognitive" to get the full effect.
Speaking of me being creepy, I did congratulate the Sivster, or La Bella Sivolini, as she is now known to her throngs of Roman and/or Tuscan admirers. Hey man, at least you get journal replies.
I suck with money. Can't save it for shit, and have the self-control of a crack-addicted lab monkey.
Speaking of crack, to continue the apparent Richard Pryor theme night, a quote from George Carlin:
"Richard Pryor and I had a little competition going. First Richard had a heart attack, so then not to be outdone, I had a heart attack. Then Richard set himself on fire. I said 'Fuck that' and had another heart attack".
This totally ties into my theories about people. And how I don't understand them at all, and don't want to understand the motivations of most of them. And that, my friend, is why I abandoned my lifelong goal of becoming a psychologist.
when i worked at terns and skibbles in bethesda, MD, U.S.A, we had desperate, desperate men and women who would consider no skulking too slouchy as long as it afforded them 5 more minutes of reading the end of that unpurchased Mademoiselle.
You were way too nice. Was he large and imposing?
"Uncle Ognitive" seriously made me laugh like a red-cheeked barmaid.
I admit, that last journal entry lacked my usual wit and charm, and I didn't ask you, dear reader, for anything but attention. Please take me back. Baby, I'll make it better this time.
I am officially bored with my job. Perhaps it's my lack of training that's allowed me to become bored, as I poke around inefficiently looking for a project to devote myself... Read More
Dad pays for cellphones for my brothers and I. He always has--I'd go without if I had to pay for it myself.
Pro: free cellphone
Con: can't use phone too liberally when sharing minutes with dad and brothers on same plan; can't choose handset model or phone number; when phone company pisses off quick-to-anger dad, phone number changes--so does phone, resulting in feelings of despair... Read More
haha, my dad pays for mine too. although he's sort of the opposite, he's like some sort of crazy collectible cellular freak. i swear he has 5 phones and never uses any of them. Also, three of them are identical. I never said he was very good at collecting phones.
Housewarming yesterday. Fairly uneventful until Jules turns up with a couple of friends in tow. One a guy, tall, white, utterly forgettable, the other a girl, dark hair, olive skin, blue-grey eyes--SG material, I think. Perhaps they were a couple. This was never made clear.
About 15 minutes after they get settled on the couch each with a glass of wine, the girl begins to... Read More
What warm fuzzies I get from so many open arms held out before me! It astounds me that anyone would care that I'm back. You're lovely people. Let's fuck.
AJ asked where I'm working, so I've decided that the "work" entry I was planning to write later will have to be written today. Here goes..
I'm working. I found work. I work. I have a... Read More
When I moved out of my mom's place in August of '02 I planned on never coming back. I was off to graduate school with scholarships and high hopes. I quit my job of 5 years. I threw whatever possessions wouldn't fit into my new apartment into my closet. I bought new furniture and new clothes. I packed up a van and headed three hours... Read More
My tiny victory is finally finishing a BA that I was one course away from completing for over two years, held back by a course that I really had finished but was never given credit for. It took finding a job at another university and, at 24, having to sit through the inanity of 18 year old undergrad communications majors pontificating on "the media." My diploma came in the mail a couple of weeks ago.
I am really excited that you're back. Where are you working?
i just saw rufus wainwright live...fantastic.