One more thing. The Onion says of Alan Greenspan's retirement: "He's irreplaceable. This Bernanke guy may be an anti-inflation fiscal conservative, but you just can't run the Fed if you've never screwed Ayn Rand."

I will stay an independent force, stealing road signs to mark my course.

I bet at least one CM reader knows who I'm quoting.

I don't have anything I feel like publicly emoting right now, but i feel bad for not posting, so:
TEACHES OF PEACHES

duuuuuude. Anyone else notice that Mulgrew linked Tom Sherman in his most recent post? I find this both appropriate and hilarious. Kindred souls, those two. (I think of Tom as the less slovenly, more sober version of Mulgrew.)

Cat Power was devestatingly beautiful last night -- fragile and precarious and full of such strange pain. When the set was over, Chan Marshall didn't bow or wave. She backed slowly away from the edge of the stage, wide-eyed and fidgeting in her shapeless blue shirt-dress. She picked up a few things people tossed her-- a flower and a t-shirt. She paced across the stage, swung the t-shirt around like a lasso once and then wandered off. She doesn't seem much like a real person at all.

I need to get some work done tonight, but all I can think about right now is food...Gios stuffed spinach pizza and mintmeltaways and eggnog and pumpkin pie and green bean casserole with crispy onion thingies on top and sweet potato mash covered in burnt marshmallows and my grandma's Christmas lunch chili (family tradition, very tasty!) and my mom's fudge and grandma's cripsy crust peppermint pie (another very tasty family tradition) and sour patches and huge star-shaped berry jellos covered in whipped cream (yet another fantastic family tradition) and mini hambugers and Brachs ChristmasNougats (best candy in existance) and sticky buns (family tradition) and fondued mini pigs in blankets (my favourite of the tasty family traditions) and cake donuts from the Swedish shop and OleSalties potato chips and - -

I am so ready to go home for Christmas. I finished my Christmas shopping in June! All that's left is wrapping and novelty food purchases (this year I'm bringing strange Swedish candies to the Christmas lunch and putting bags of prawn-flavoured crisps in the stockings...not anywhere near as novel as some of the novelty items which have turned up in stockings over the years, like the Ghostbusters possessed toilet figurine).

From The's site:
1. Of all the bands/artists in your cd/record collection, which one do you own the most albums by?: Sleater-Kinney or The Pixies, not sure 
2. What was the last song you listened to?: "Little Mouth" by Sleater-Kinney
3. What's in your record player right now?: The Age of Backwards by The Spells
4. What song would you say sums you up? "Who The Fuck" by PJ Harvey
5. What's your favorite local band? there is no local music anymore.
6. What was the last show you attended? Built to Spill (not the best) 
7. What was the greatest show you've ever been to? First time I saw Weezer (2000); Sleater-Kinney (2001)
8. What's the worst band you've ever seen in concert? Worst time I ever had at a concert was Twilight Singers (2003)
9. What band do you love musically but hate the members of? Afghan Whigs are OK to pretty good musically, but I definitely have a lot of hate for G.Dulli.
10. What is the most musically involved you have ever been? The Catatonics
11. What show are you looking forward to? Cat Power
12. What is your favorite band t-shirt?: I Heart Lung. the design looks cool as hell, fits perfectly.
13. What musician would you like to hang out with for a day?: Kim Deal
14. What musician would you like to be in love with you for a day? Beck
15. Metal question-Jeans and Leather vs. Cracker Jack clothes?: Jeans and Leather
16. Sabbath or solo Ozzy?: I don't care
17. Commodores or solo Lionel Ritchie?: I don't care
18. Punk rock, hip hop or heavy metal?: Punk Rock
19. Doesn't Primus suck?: awful
20. Name 5 flawless albums: The Unicorns "Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?" (perfectly accomplishes everything it sets out to do) Fiona Apple "When The Pawn;" Weezer's Blue Album; Pixies' "Surfer Rosa"
21. What was the greatest decade for music? 90s is my favorite. Right now is pretty good.
22. How many music-related videos/dvds do you own? four or five
23. What is your favorite movie soundtrack? Magnolia
24. What was your last musical "phase" before you wisened up?: EMO!
25. What's the crappiest CD/record/etc. you've ever bought?: something by Oasis; I didn't buy it, but I do own Are You Wigglin'? by Gravy Train! that is the decided WORST album of the past decade. I dare you to try to listen to it front to back.
26. Do you prefer vinyl or CDs?: vinyl is special, but I can't put it on my ipod.

(From Tangiblebrit.com) Gosh dangit, Britney has a cute baby

My criminal law class is talking about rape for the next couple sessions. One thing I learned (to my relief) is that my views on sex and gender -- which have caused major friction in most of my relationships -- are not that radical. There are serious legal scholars who believe ALL HETROSEXUAL SEX INVOLVES RAPE. My revulsion at most popular depictions of females; my desire to not place gender at the center of my identity; my dislike of (even purportedly inoffensive) cat calls -- these are NOT radical views. I kind of knew that already. (and even if they were uncomfortably radical, I wasn't willing to give them up). So yeah. I don't really know what the point of all this is, except to state for the record that I am only becoming further entrenched in my desire to be an abrasive hardass at all times.

Other note. My neck is killing me. Maybe I stressed myself out too much. Either that or it's spinal meningitis.

John Stewart believes in justice.

I believe he will fight for you, Adele.

Eliminated.

Is this going to be snotty? You bet.

I was robbed. I wouldn't say that if it wasn't completely true. I was brilliant last night. I've never been so calm and intellectually energized in my life. When we received feedback from the panel, they were universally positive about my presentation, while they had several criticisms for my opponent. One of the panelists actually stopped me on the way out and gave me his card and encouraged me to go into litigation, complementing my delivery and demeanor.

My opponent's brief was riddled with grammatical errors. Her oral argument was OK. Not great. Not as good as mine.

We both left the courtroom knowing I'd won and would be advancing -- my opponent even said as much. It was that obvious.

Somehow I was eliminated. I truly believe our scores were reversed or transposed or SOMETHING. Something went wrong. Because I definitely won on every front. I know it's somewhat subjective. I know it's not that important. And I really really really wouldn't be upset if I'd legitimately lost. But I didn't.

I destroyed, my opponent was so-so, and she advances and I don't.

Oh so sad. My joy is squelched.

Not completely, though. This did, after all, help me identify exactly what I want to do after law school. Now all I have to do is work my ass off for the next three years to even get a shot at doing it.

If you saw the "Jarhead" preview and you did not go home and download Kanye West's "Jesus Walks" well then, sir, you are a stronger man than I.

Epistle 1--Letters from the East Coast LDS Singles Conference is now up on MMM. If nothing else, the Flynn's glorious creations will keep you entertained.

I said, 'I'm going to eat you. there's no time to waste.
guess we'll have to find someone new to play bass.'

So, I know I've thrown this out there before, but damn. My brother's band is the shit.

Just download this fucking song. You won't be sorry. Pirate's Life.

Oh and guess what else fools? I'm on to ROUND THREE tonight!

:-/ Now they've decided that I don't need to switch visas until the end of January. So I could have stayed in Nottingham making money with my friends for another month or two and had time to sort my dissertation issues there and build-up more of a nest-egg to pay for a deposit on a flat.

But this also means that I might be able to apply from within the US, thus saving myself 5 or 6 hundred dollars...which I could then spend on clothing. :-) For now, I'm just going to have a panic attack from the stress. How can people in that office not be able to give clear answers to basic questions like "when do I need to switch visas"?!? There's a big fucking difference between October and January.

I was supposed to be starting a candy-free period today, but how can I handle a major stress like this without sugar?!

My roommate dragged me out to a club to go dancing last night. As much as it pains me to do so, I have to admit that we had a great time. Two thumbs up for expanded horizons. The Darkroom is really cute and surprisingly unskanky. Not somewhere I'd go every weekend, but definitely a good time last night.

This weekend is good. I'm so excited about tomorrow. I bought a new suit for the occasion. I can't stop thinking about how awesome it's going to be, even if I get eliminated. I'm reembracing my nerdhood.

My body is falling apart in every way imaginable. I've had a wicked sore throat and cough for more than a week. I have the mother of all zits on my chin, I think I have to have a root canal on one of my molars, and this morning, I swear to you, I woke up with an eye infection. I should be quarantined.

But the good news is, I'm moving on to round two in the Herzog competition. This means more to me than perhaps it should.

I went to the state fair yesterday, part of my dad’s let’s-take-our-employees-out-to-build-company-unity plan. It isn’t as cynical as it sounds—my dad legitimately loves his employees, and they legitimately enjoy spending time with him and each other. But let’s be honest—most state fairs are filled with trashy people that make you fear for America. I’m not saying the majority, but a sizeable enough minority to make you wince. And it’s expensive, 4 bucks or so per ride. They’re so tricky, those state fair people—they make you get tickets, so it isn’t 4 bucks you’re spending, it’s 8 tickets. Whatever. Kids had a good time, I got to be humiliated by bringing my bloated sack of flesh in public. Everybody wins.

My weight, anyone’s weight, has never really been an issue so much as clothes. I judged attractiveness much more by clothes and face than by weight. I whine about my weight because my clothes don’t fit, and I can’t fit into my favorite items. I tried shopping in Boston, but it was pointless—once I move out, I’m going get back to my normal weight, so it’s pointless to look for nice things while I’m in a temporary body prison. And I’m sure all of you are fascinated by this discourse.

But I mention weight because after the fair yesterday, my stomach feels like I’ve eaten some of The’s AIDS-infested burger king leftovers. You go to a fair for the food. The glorious fried food. I ate my weight in funnel cake and corn dogs, I swear. I hadn’t eaten all day (most of my weight comes from obscene Pepsi consumption), wasn’t even that hungry, and all of a sudden I get to the fairground and turn into a manbeast for fried carbs and meats on a stick. With the help and goading of those around me, I consumed:
2 corndogs
1.5 cups of pepsi
1 funnel cake
.5 polish sausage with onions
.5 basket of onion strings
.25 nachos with cheese and sour cream
It isn’t as if I did all that alone—everyone around me ate that much or more. I feel so disgusting. But man, what a way to go. My veins are as thick as fondant.

Also was that I finally got to go into the animal freak tent, since the fair won’t agree with the human freaks union, or whatever has taken human freaks away from us. I’m looking your way, medical science That was the best $1.50 i've ever spent. Under this tent they had a glass case with all sorts of albino snakes,2 headed turtles, albino turtles, all alive and swimming about. One turtle had 8 legs, 2 bodies, but one head, since the head of it’s conjoined twin had been grafted into a leg. The best though was the main attraction—an albino rat catcher with 2 heads. It was the most beautiful snake, pink diamonds on the scales, red eyes, and pink tongues. Each head moved independently, but the body moved as one. So weird. And I don’t really get weirded out. Now my thirst for animal freaks has been whetted. I hear there’s a museum in Austria that has a ton of mummified and pickled animal ‘anomalies’.

From bizarre.com, in case any of you missed it:


Wildlife biologists in Florida's swampland found this Burmese python with the hind quarters of a dead alligator protruding from the snake's mid-section. It's thought that the alligator might have gnawed its way out of the snake's stomach. Either that or the python just exploded. Either way - let's call it a draw.

All you mormons surfing into our site because I posted the newsweek article--
a) Whenever these retrospectives on the church come out, don't you kind of cringe?
b) This mormons-aren't-christians arguement is becoming tedious
c) Our church history is messy
d) I'm a 24, single, lds woman. Hook me up with your friends so I'm not fated to live and die alone with cats.

Look who's on the cover of newsweek, biotches.

I gave my first round oral argument for the Herzog competition at JMLS last night, and it was the absolute highlight of my academic career thus far. I was on, and it felt amazing. I can't describe the feeling I have right now. Something akin to MyGoodnessThisRules.

Star Jones don’t like me, she cheap and I like the best
Damn, it must feel good to Payless.

Another reason to love Lil'Kim

You are John Ashbery. People love your work but
have no idea why, really. You are respected by
all kinds of scholars and poets. Even artists
like you.


Which Famous Modern American Poet Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Just got back from a weekend in Boson after attending, at my father's bequest, an "east coast single adult conference". Since this was Church-related, the fun-yet-grotesque spectacle will be up on the MMM, but I'm not sure I have the stamina right now. One thing is certain: I'm going to die alone.

The best part was being back on the East Coast. People are generally less friendly, but more polite and well-mannered, which in my thinking is much more desirable.

One of the ladies from Texas who came up with me pulled me aside and said, "You know what's funny? People up here dress like you!"

It became clear while in Boston that I have really become horrible during my year-long sabbatical. I left Northwestern generally very happy with myself, my social skills, my opinions--in short, I was very happy with who I was, and my place in society. Now, not so much. I am a complete mess. In an argument for diversity, after having little to no social interaction for about a year and a half, I have stagnated emotionally, and even devolved in the essentials. I'm brusque and rude and think I know better than everyone else (well, more so than before.) I've made little attempt to improve my grammar or my speaking issues (surely those of you who know me realize how much I mix up tenses and pronunciations). And I certainly haven't quelled my tendency to be personally offended when people disagree with my point of view. In short, I'm lazy, arrogant, and socially awkward, and this is not where I want to be.

Case-in-point: an informal colloquium on pacifism and the Book of Mormon. The girl I was staying with--Carrie--takes me to a party hosted by an Oxford-educated church member who had lived in Nepal. Everyone in attendance had either studied at Harvard, taught at Harvard, traveled extensively, published in posh journals--smart. Not just that--incredibly kind and low-key. I've been so used to talking to morons that I completely forgot how to talk to non-morons.

The first time i succeeded in humiliating myself, we were in the middle of introductions. When my turn came, I said my name, and listed my occupation as writer/commodities trader.
"What do you write?" Asks a bespectacled, tweed-suited women.
"Well, my education is in novels and poetry, but I'm sort of working on a strange hybrid of the two. Don't get me started, I could talk forever." This all rushed out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Not bad you say? Maybe, in print. But of course, the words are only half the problem. Then there was my tone, which was rang out smug and self-satisfied. Had I intended it that way? Of course not. I had wanted to impart a) i mix styles and b) I didn't want to flesh out my description because we still had a lot of people that needed to introduce themselves. Instead, I came across as condescending: Oh yes, I'm working on this revolutionary new form of writing which none of you can understand because I am quite obviously a genius, didn't you get that memo? I mean, my tone was SO OBNOXIOUS, and I didn't want it to be, but I know everyone in that room must have been thinking "Who does this girl think she is? And why are her feet bleeding?" (Answer: a loser, cracked calluses)

The second mistake I made was when we were commenting on conflict resolution. I raised my hand and said, "In a conflict, we only perceive that the two sides cannot coexist, because if they were truly incompatible, compromise would not be possible," The mediator lit up and responded, "Precisely--in fact, that was one of my main tenents when I wrote my thesis!" Then everyone laughed, because they all realized that he was unconsciously saying "It's brilliant because I thought of it." However, at the time, I failed to realize everyone had already percieved his unconscious self praise, and decided to be uncouth and verbalize what everyone already knew. Flushed with my success of saying something RIGHT, I got overconfident, and blurted out, "Oh well then, if you thought of it, it must be brilliant,"

I'm going to pause a minute and let that sink in.

That was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing moment in recent memory. More embarrassing even then that time in the eight grade where I was on my period and some girls came into the black box for play rehearsal and asked me, in all seriousness, if something had died in the room. Come to think of it, most of my high school horror stories revolve around my mentrual cycles. But that is neither here nor there. I mention this story to illustrate the level of my humiliation at my wisecrack-gone-horribly-wrong. The room went silent. Everyone looked down and shifted their papers. The mediator acted as if nothing had happened, and even continued to smile at me for the rest of his presentation, bless him, but the damage had been done.

It isn't as if this sort of thing never happened in college. At Lakshmi's birthday party, I remembr, I was slicing up cake, and one girl didn't want much, and so I gave her a small piece and told my makeshift waitress--"Give this to the girl who's trying not to get fat" or something, because she was ridiculously thin. And apparently she overheard me and was really upset because she had eaten before she came and was genuinly full, and Mark yelled at me for being careless with comments and then I was embarassed for the whole night. But while that was stupid, that was me saying one thing wrong after a night of a thousand successes. Now it seems, I am lucky for one proper comment for every thousand I screw up.

In short, this trip has made me never want to interact with people again until I can get my life back on track. Seriously, what the frick?

I haven't smoked a cigarette since Wednesday. I've only had one drink in the past five days. Did I suddenly become responsible upon turning 23? (Probably not. As soon as this awful, awful cold and cough gets out of my system, there's a good chance I'll be back at it.)

I think I'm becoming addicted to mangoes. They're like carrots, except good...a bit expensive...but good!

Would it be unwise only to apply to two graduate schemes? Perhaps. But - - I know what I want, and only two companies in the entire world can offer me everything I want in the long-term. So, why not? I only ever apply to one or two things whatever it is I'm applying for. The scheme itself isn't perfect, but what I'll get out of the scheme by the time I'm thirty is: the freedom to do whatever I please wherever I please until I retire. And if we're all going to be working until we're 70 or 75, six or seven years of *alright* is well worth the forty-odd years of *great* to follow.

I should probably buy a new suit.

I'm ready to go home for Christmas. Today. QVC has already started their Christmas shows and there are already Christmas-related adverts on television, which annoys me, because you can't start in on Christmas until AFTER Thanksgiving. Because that's how it is! You can't put up the Christmas decorations until AFTER you've finished the Thanksgiving leftovers!! But they don't have a Thanksgiving here, so when does Christmas start?!? Certainly not before Halloween, QVC!!! *grrrr*

Speaking of Halloween, my mommy is mailing my Halloween package this week...stuffed with Pumpkin Mellowcremes!! And deoderant, because they don't have LadySpeedStick OrchardBlossom InvisibleDry in the UK, and I like my underarms to smell like apples, invisibly. No other scent or visibility level will do. !

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ADELE!! (and blog)

Since I'm out of town and my chances of finding another computer are iffy at best, let me say "happy birthday adele". You're queen b biotch, just like lil kim

My law school friends completely rule. (my hangover wants the record to reflect her objection to that statement.) Wow, the pre-birthday celebration has been in full-fucking effect this week. As planned. (My hangover is asking me for some more coffee.)

Fact is, I went through it over the weekend--crying and all that shit. But, I think things are good now.

Tuesday, I got the best haircut ever and went to CocoRosie/Antony+The Johnsons at the Park West. CocoRosie was a riot, and now I love those girls. That was the weirdest shit ever. All those beats on Noah's Ark come from a human being. Yeah, there was a girl (or boy? I couldn't tell) up there with them beatboxing like a champ. It was unreal. Anyway, now I know the truth-- CocoRosie should not be lumped in with this freakfolk thing, because really, they're just a fucked up hiphop group. Antony was classy and beautiful and spot on. "Hope there's someone" is definitely a contender for song of the year. I saw A LOT of people crying during his set.

Yesterday, went to school and went out with some great girls after, and drank far beyond my limits!

YO! HAPPY 4th Birthday to this blog today!!

Oh my gosh you guys, no way! I thought these two were really going to last!


Courtesy of Gawker.com

I imagine most of you are too high brow to have ever watched "Newlyweds." Most divorces are usually the fault of men--and this isn't my own prejudices coming out. It's just that statistically, men are more likely to be the cause of a marriage dissolving then women. But had any of you stooped to my level and watched "Newlyweds", it would have become obvious that Jessica Simpson was far and away the cause of this marriage failure. If Lachey took her to a nice restaurant, she'd complain that the food was too 'weird.' He took her to Nappa Valley to crush grapes, and she wouldn't drink any of the juice after because it 'probably tastes like feet." Gosh I hate her. Good riddance.

Radar, the only magazine for people who care about actual journalism, did this fantastic article about Kabbalah. It will make you hate Madonna all over again.

Adele, I need an address, today. try mejones at gmail dot com

Oh my gosh you guys, a post that isn’t related to celebrity news! Don’t faint!

Let’s face it—my life is a mire right now. With two incapacitated parents, three hyper-active children, applications, and work, I am stretched as thin as is humanly possible. If I have to iron another work shirt, I will rain down terror and brimstone. I must get accepted into a school, and I must move their before I die.

I’ve taken to starting my days around 6 am, and doing an hour’s work of reading. A surprisingly effective move for sanity, I’ve read Hornby’s “Polysyllabic Spree,” Speiglman’s “Maus I and II”, the McSweeny’s Collection (13) of graphic art, Coetzee’s “Disgrace,” and most of “trading for traders”. Now, if only I could slash my way through Murakami’s “Wind up bird chronicles”. Don’t get me wrong, the book is amazing and right up my alley, but it’s also long. Loooooong. Narrow, small type face and 600+ pages. And I’ve got about 30 more books I need to polish up so they’ll stop staring at me. Stop it! Stop looking at me! Stop judging!

Theron remarks that fall has made the Women emo, and we are getting all sentimental and weepy. I think there is a lot of truth to this. I don’t enjoy posting lately because most of my posts would be on the theme of “oh my gosh I am so lonely kill me now” or “look at how pathetic I am for still being gutted about mark’s complete indifference to my life”. It would be one thing if I’ve never addressed either of those topics before, but it seems like every single month you can be sure of three things: 1) I will be complaining about being lonely, 2) I will muse on pop culture to an annoying degree of detail, and 3) I will somehow mention mark. All of these things are pathetic—shh shh. You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s true.

In fact, fall is a more difficult time for me than any other season. While I usually spend my winters in seasonal depression, early spring and early fall are probably my most emotionally vulnerable periods. When I was little I moved around a lot, a new school every year or two. In spring, the school year ended, and I knew that even though everyone said they would write, they wouldn’t. And then in the fall, I was always in a new place, and I faced the prospect of starting school without friends and being completely alone—again. So for a few weeks every fall and spring I get a bit panicky and depressed, and I become horribly nostalgic.

How long is it ok to ruminate on someone before it becomes desperate and embarrassing? We were together on and off for 3 years. I guess that—at a year and a half later—I’m winding up my allotted period, so I might as well make one final blow out. Besides, it isn’t like he really reads my posts anyway, is it?

My ruminations on Mark, though you would never guess it from my posts, have been steadily decreasing since I graduated a year and a half ago. What has been increasing is a growing sense of disappointment with a man I used to value so highly, and that breaks my heart. Mark will always be a friend—I enjoy his opinions and his company too much to ever do anything drastic a la “don’t ever talk to me again,”—but he treats me in a fashion I simply do not deserve. His indifference disappoints me, as does his inconsistencies between what he says and what he does.

Once it became certain that we would not be romantically involved at this stage of our lives, Mark’s interest in me as an individual decreased rapidly. While he ostensibly swore he thought about me often, there were no actions to indicate anything to that degree. He didn’t think to tell me he had moved, he didn’t think to tell me he was dating again, he didn’t think to tell me his grandmother (whom I loved) was dead. Though I even wrote on his calendar “Mary’s Birthday”, he didn’t bother to send me anything other than a terse congratulatory text message 3 weeks late.

This isn’t to say that all of my friendships require upkeep. Anne and I haven’t called, written, emailed, for probably a two years. We communicate over blogs, and if we’re in the same city, we live together for a few days. That’s completely natural for me. I also recognize that after profound breakups, there is a period of separation, and that Mark lives across a huge sea and many time zones. But I don’t need a friendship of weekly phone calls. I simply want to be involved in the changes and developments in his life. And he has obviously no wish to make the time to include me in those developments.

I dwell on this for two reasons. The first is that the last time this bothered me, which was after I returned from Canada, I called Mark up and asked him how much he wished to be involved in my life, and he replied that he wanted to continue some form of correspondence. He then forgets my birthday and doesn’t make any form of conact for 5 weeks. I have called the 3 of the last 4 times we have talked since I came back from Christchurch—I will not call again. This suggests a type of laziness in keeping his word which I find troubling. I dislike all talk and no follow-through, and I am beginning to fear that Mark is a perpetual thinker, but not a doer. The second reason I dwell is because, as Theron mentioned, the time of year. It’s fall, and I feel new-school insecure. Opening up to Mark was a huge leap of faith, and it was rewarded with indifference. Since I no longer fit into HIS life, I am no longer worth time and interest. I am afraid I am too valuable a person to be treated so casually, and have other friends who treat me much better than he does.

Like adele said, this is throwing sparks in the void.

Ten Best Sleater Kinney Songs of Right Now

-Taste Test
-God Is A Number
-#1 Must Have
-Entertain
-Good Things
-Little Mouth
-One Beat
-Oh!
-One More Hour
-Call The Doctor

Pretty much all I can think about right now is how much I love Sleater Kinney. I'm getting a haircut tonight, and I ripped a pic of Carrie B. out of a back issue of Venus and I'm seriously going to tell my hairdresser to make me look like her. Is that weird?

Now I ain't saying she a gold digger
But she ain't messing with no broke niggers

I know Kanye West is a self righteous racist, but you know what? He is a really, really good-looking man. I have never been this physically attracted but intellectually repulsed by a man since the glory days of Zach de la Rocha's hot communist sex.

HATE!

I've never been so fucking glad to just be at work on a Monday morning.

nothing to post about...lalala...has JamesBlunt taken over the US airwaves yet?? JamesfuckingBlunt and the KaiserChiefs are 2 in 3 songs on the UK radio right now. I hate hate HATE JamesBlunt!! He couldn't be a bigger pussy if he were trying to be...wahwahwah, I got really high and then saw a pretty girl I wanted to fuck on the train but she had a boyfriend, strumstrumstrum.

And I'm a DashboardConfessional fan - - JamesBlunt is too emo even for me!!

Plus, he's unattractive. That makes him even worse.

This weekend has been draining. I feel unhinged. I have various explanations for why I feel such an intense sense of loss, but none of them seem to justify 40 more-or-less continuous hours of crying. But there I am. It's been a long time since I've felt like this, and needless to say, I really don't like it. It must be hormonal or dietary or something of that nature. Because I am like a drippy faucet. I mean, I speak and I start crying. I could be talking about work, or a friend, or something I read in the paper. tears tears tears. Maybe something is wrong with my eyes. It's utterly unreasonable.

ugh. The only other things I can think to say are "everything is so fucked up," or "I am so lonely." but everything is mostly fine. and I'm only slightly and intermittently lonely. I want to move to the moon.

The coffee shop I'm at is playing an oldies station that's taking me back to my Park Diner days. I have much better hair now than I did back then. I drove past the old 802 Clark spot yesterday; they've opened a Cosi chain restaurant in the Sherman space. I will never go in there. or to any Cosi. I got a domain renewal notice for cuidado.ws this morning. I wore that blue t-shirt.

An Iron and Wine song is on a college football on ABC radio commercial. just the guitar parts. and, oh. guess what? my shit is crying again.

I am throwing sparks in a void.

There is a way that you can help me. Promise to be kind.