rickroyal

My laptop powersource decided to erase its own map earlier this week, so I've been without access for a while. A replacement has been purchased, but shipment will take a while. Alas.

And, since it put a smile on my face, a giant snow cock.

Two musical musings.

1. The description "jazz bagpipe-ist" is far more interesting than the reality of Rufus Harley's music. The description conjured up images of, well, I'm not entirely sure what. But the reality was something not entirely unlike someone playing an alto sax.

2. No matter how many times I listen to Dr. John's "How Come My Dog Don't Bark (When You Come Around),"...
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Cicero once said, "A room without books is like a body without a soul."

I like that, and I agree. I just wish I had someplace else to put these books so I didn't keep tripping over them.

Ever since I'd heard it in a movie or t.v. show (the title now long-since forgotten), my standard response to the question "What's your New Year's resolution?" was "To make no more resolutions." No one ever found the quip as funny as I did, so after a time I stopped saying it.

But I still don't make resolutions. Resolutions are open-ended promises that are doomed...
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Alas, I've been betrayed again. The trust I so openly and freely gave is no more. This gilded dagger in my back all the more painful for not being expected. Yes, my friends, it's true: yet another restaurant has eliminated Creamy Italian salad dressing from their salad bar.

Much of my recent entertainment consumption has consisted of alternating between Firefly and Farscape viewings. Just really good skiffy shows that shouldn't have been cancelled when they were. What it's really made me think about, though, is what type of show would Joss Whedon and Rockne S. O'Bannon come up with if they ever collaborated on something. I mean, they have similar tendencies and concerns...
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I finished all of my work for the semester two days early. What that required was a thirty-six hour day for me, filled with a goodly amount of editing and an even goodlier amount of wasting time. My favorite part? Driving an hour to and from campus, coming up with strange ways to keep myself awake.

I'll admit it: my cock came out of my...
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Scattershot thoughts.

- The Erotic Alphabet.

- A very enjoyable evening listening to Bogey say lines like: "We came here to rob them and that's what we're gonna do -- beat their heads in, gouge their eyes out, slash their throats. Soon as we wash the dishes."

- I realize I'm still shockingly young, but every year around this time I start to think...
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"You know, one of these days you and me are just gonna end up fucking each other's brains out."

"Is this mythical day coming soon?"

Anyone catch AMC Project: Malkovich's Mail this evening? It was a documentary about the unsolicited scripts and pitches John Malkovich's production company, Mr. Mudd Productions, gets. It profiled five of the scripts and their authors, had the staff of the production company talk about these things that come in the mail, and Malkovich acted out some of the scenes from each of the scripts and...
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"My mother is a fish."

Given the chance, I'd do what Kevin Smith did. That's love.