3 0 d e c e m b e r 2 0 0 1 .
last week i decided that i needed to infuse myself with vitamins, so i went on a spending spree and came home with ginkogin (ginkgo, ginseng, and gar- lic, in one redolent tablet), flaxseed oil, and other herbalific treats. now i'm sick anyway. just a cold, no biggie, but still. bah. humbug.
went to yonkers for the first time this weekend, to a christmas party hosted by a friend of the boyfiend's. we were operating on c.p. time in a major way, but i think i made a decent impression by making a fool of myself learning how to merengue with all the hottie dominicanas. these things happen when only 2 straight men show up for parties and they're both married.
christmas was quiet and mellow and work-filledi think next year i will ask for no gifts from the family. sturtle's blogger secret santa was fun though: radio- head live cd from gentlementle.blogspot.com (you got my offline thank-you card, right?). and i got great stuff from neil: a vintage lunch box with matching oven mits, a chinese good luck charm that he insists looks like me (it's a yellow feline creature with white whiskers and red lips), chrome wonton spoons, a knit hat that says "romania," and lots of help enter- taining nine dear friends for brunch on christmas day.
i'd like to leave 2001 with 3 images:
one of kid koala,
a great scratch dj
that i heard
open for
radiohead
in august;
one of mariah carey,
just because;
and one of a new site design
that i'm playing around with.
i need some new sites to keep up with: sometimes sites give up the ghost, sometimes the work curdles. tentative new year's resolutions (for myself, not oth- ers; those come soon): keep cards close to my chest; don't playa hate; finish some of the books on my shelves; bench full body weight; move forward creatively.
i've just begun samuel delany's (i first read about him surfing from a pink narcissus fan site) autobio- graphy, the motion of light in water: sex and science fiction writing in the east village, partly because it was listed "out of print" on amazon and i bought the first used copy as soon as it was listed. i'm about sixty pages into the first and singular chapter of the book, "the peripheries of love" (i love that subtitle). this ap- pears before the first sentence:
turned back upon purgation: paradox
within a more intriguing paradox
of involuted mouth. the large eyes' long
panes reflect ritual violence
hung in a room apart, the separate
bright strands conglomerating intricate
woven patternings of death and silence,
the geometric flights of music, each
intoning a formality in speech:
if you are angle, i am complement.
if you are circle, i am circumscribed.
if my hands mold, yours is the form described.
your voice is my familiar instrument.
i sound a note, and you complete the chord.
your eyes are an inscription in my hand
that reads my face and tells me what i am.
my singing resonates beneath your words.
a move completes a move; as games are played,
if i betray, you are the one betrayed.
-marilyn hacker, from "the terrible children" (1960)
purgation: the act of purging or purifying
involuted: (botany) having the margins rolled inward; having whorls that obscure the axis or other volutions, as the shell of a cowrie
circumscribed: with a line drawn around; encircled
-courtesy dictionary.com
1 4 d e c e m b e r 2 0 0 1 .
i'd like to send christmas cards this year. would you like one? if so, write me with your mailing address.
realplaya.com's realplayayplayerist good.
1 3 d e c e m b e r 2 0 0 1 .
the dilemma: when you see that something on your wishlist has been bought for you, do you peek?
sometimes the village voice sucks, but other times:
november 25. from: amythey can't use the word "cum," but the new york times gets in there too, as the cult of britney hatred reaches shannen doherty-level proportions:
who was on acid when they dreamed up those between-song vignettes on the hbo special? if you see the video, check out the opening sequence of dancers crawling up her billboard on the side of the mgm grand (a meta- phor for the public's invasion of her privacy, perhaps?) and the dude who really, really looks like jon voight read- ing a nonsensical "bedtime story" to a little girl before the "born to make you happy"/"lucky"/etc. medley. that was some wack shit. and oh god, that ver- sion of "baby" was terrible. i did, how- ever, think the rain idea was genius it was like the whole concert was fore- play leading up to the money shot. there she is in her crystal bra and ass-crack jeans, soaking in the entire na- tion's cum.
-got your money shot, irin carmon & amy phillips
"the terrorists were not attacking only the building they hit, but american cul-ture in general, its promiscuity, its wanton commercialism," professor thompson said. "and britney spears is a perfect metaphor for all that."b a c Ktiming may have also mattered. "when the posters first came out, the world trade center site was still on fire and most of the bodies hadn't been recovered," he said. "advertising such frivolous entertainment then seemed so tasteless that i think a lot of people unloaded on britney without figuring out what they were really angry about."
-politically charged graffiti treats spears as a symptom, not a star, maura kelly
if i hate cgi and perl in the middle of a forest, will any- one hear my cries? will anyone care? what if i never get my formerly-fancy contact form back?
christmas. whaddaya want for christmas. everyone's asking: i'm asking people, moms is asking me, my sister and boyfriend are asking me. of course i want things, like cute sweaters, but i don't like asking peo- ple for plain ole christmas shoppy things anymore. so i've been thinking up things i would dig as gifts:
- my sneakers restored
- tickets to things at alice tully
- 20 lb. dumbbells
- piano lessons
- Saint Etienne fanclub membership
- a facial/backcial
- personal training sessions
- music theory books
-
4-day workweek
can't write can't write. low motivation for everything. as evidenced by my postings around this time last year, this is nothing new. i worry that at some point i got off track and i'm not becoming the person that i wanted to be when i grew up. there were a lot of jobs that i fantasized about, but i also thought a lot about scenes, like: when i'm grown up, i'll be sitting on the floor or leaning against the window of a big white room that overlooks an alley. if the window is open, there'll be sounds and music coming up from the street. where's that street? my street's quiet.