August 29, 2003
Mythologies of Our Time
Reportedly, at this moment, Mamma Spears was heard backstage screaming "Succubus tryin' to take my baby!"
August 28, 2003
Smack is Whack
Things I love about Whitney (but only 'cause I'm not Bobby): that he got ratted out because she was too much of a diva to some spiteful fans, that she arrived late to his trial, that she took her cell phone into the courtroom, that she took calls on her cell phone, and that she was heard saying to him throughout the trial Stay strong, baby! Stay strong!
That is exactly what I would do for Glenn in that situation.
August 27, 2003
A Sign He's Been Paying Attention All Along
Watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy last night in bed. The fab five comment about the "headlights" one of the young women is sporting. Carson says, "There must be some Toros in the atmosphere."
I smile. He looks at me, "They did not just quote one of your favorite movies. Did they?"
He likes me. He really likes me.
August 26, 2003
Six Months Later
So, I finally started working on getting some of my photos online. Remember the 'blizzard' of 2003? Here are some 'blizzard' photos in case you don't.
I really don't like the way this turned out. I used FrontPage because Photoshop wasn't doing what I wanted, but I think I'm going to redo it in Dreamweaver (which I am getting at home soon, I hope). I'd love to hear suggestions from other people about tools they've found helpful.
August 25, 2003
True Tales of (White) Trashy Underwear
This weekend, I fantasized of schadenfreude. Visions of the new Ashton Kutcher-Tara Reid vehicle, My Boss's Daughter flopping danced through my head. It's not that I hate Ashton. Really, I don't know him. Perhaps it's just that ubiquity breeds contempt in me. Like all the cooler kids I hold to the tenet that once everyone's doing it, no one should.
That all went out the window when I saw the cover of the September Details. Damn he fine. And he wears a wifebeater like nobody's business. No wonder the editors gave Rob Lowe the boot.
Actually, as hot as that cover is, young Ashton's still not at the top of Great Moments in the History of the Wifebeater. I think Brando in Streetcar still holds that title. Though the thought of him in one now is somewhat less appealing. And I'll always have that soft spot for Ryan Phillippe in I Know What You Did Last Summer. I'm sure there are more. What are your favorite moments in the history of this lovely garment?
August 22, 2003
My Unquiet Mind
I don't know that I could work without the radio. This morning, I was doing some cleanup of something in Photoshop and kept getting frustrated. Then I realized I hadn't started up music. I hopped on over to GrooveRadio (back after a long absence) and my work just started to flow. I need something to distract me in order to focus.
Of course this constant need for stimulation has its downsides. Last night on the metro ride home I looped in my head, "I put my hand upon your hip when I dip you dip we dip. You put your hand upon my hip when you dip I dip we dip. I put my hand upon your hip when I dip you dip we dip."
This went on for more than fifteen minutes.
My brain has this looping issue. The other night, I was trying to fall asleep and couldn't stop thinking of this one scene from The Ring. The one where the girl crawls out of the television. I kept seeing that scene over and over. A stream of jump cuts. It wasn't like I was scared--it just wouldn't get out of my head. Maybe if I make a copy of what's in my head, it will leave me alone?
Black Sheep of the Day: this one needs to be repeated every once in a while...people who do not appreciate the difference between "reply" and "reply all."
August 21, 2003
"silence invades the suburbs" - W.H.A.
I sometimes have a hard time putting things into words. This has been one of those times.
But I will say confidentially to Mr. Benjamin Shapiro that, as a former English major, I'm not just sponsoring the militant homosexual agenda. I'm writing it.
August 15, 2003
Happy Fair and Balanced Day!
Glenn on the Blackout of 2003
No electricity or water in Cleveland for a few hours and people are flipping out. Man, those babies wouldn't last for one minute in Basra. *
*This wasn't exactly how he put it--I filtered it through my bitter head. Objects in mirror are more earnest than they appear.
August 14, 2003
Best Google Search Ever: donald darling filene's basement.
Come now, darling.
Where Were You When the Lights Went Out?
Strangely, I was at the only place in the DC area which happened to experience a power outage. Though, honestly, it was so brief it barely deserves a mention. Just long enough for me to say, I'm outta here. My heart goes out to my northern friends for what must have been a far more hellish evening.
I am a bit concerned, though, that it was that easy to cripple the northeastern U.S. After 9/11, you'd think we would have looked at that whole power grid thing a little bit closer. I'm sure there will be more discussion on the whole thing in the weeks to come. But I did see our fearless leader talk about it this evening (five plus hours after it happened--glad it didn't interrupt your busy fundraising schedule, Georgie). As I watched I kept thinking, wow, he really can't speak extemporaneously. Of course, neither can I, but I didn't go to Andover, dude.
Black Sheep of the Day: bad tippers. As a former waiter, all I can say is if you don't tip at least 15%, you're an ass. A former co-worker once bragged to me that he never tipped. "That's their job, man. I shouldn't have to pay for that." I just looked at him and said, "Don't want to pay for service? Then fucking get carryout!"
You Don't Own Me
There is freedom in love. There is trust. There is also a bit of ownership when someone is "yours." But often relationships suffer greatly when possession casts too dark a shadow. I've seen some friends and acquaintances get very ugly over it all. This isn't to say that being friends with someone comes with no responsibilities or expectations, but good friends also need to let their friends experience life outside of that relationship. They need to understand that sometimes the best way to be friends with someone is to not crowd them out of life.
Once upon a time, I hung out with friend J and friend K. J and K were not friends. At one point, J went to the restroom. K turned to me and asked, "Do you feel peed upon?"
"What the hell are you talking about?," I asked.
"Well it seems obvious to me that J is marking her territory with you. Kind of how cats pee on things." K was right. J felt threatened by my other relationships and was being catty towards K.
Recently, I've been on another side of this ritual. I wasn't the one being peed upon, but the one witnessing the peeing--the one who was supposed to sense the warning that this area was "off limits." To put it frankly, if you're insecure enough in your friendship with someone to feel threatened by their other friends, perhaps you should focus on why that is rather than lash out at others.
I, too, have been the pisser. I've caught myself getting jealous, thinking why can't I be as close to him as she is? Jealousy is a dangerous thing and can make you do things you wouldn't normally do. I'm not sure that I know exactly how to handle this—it's a natural emotion, but I don't think being so over-possessive help matters at all. Often times it drives the person you want to be closer to further away. I guess it just comes down to being the best friend that you can be and hoping that's enough.
August 13, 2003
Sure, we can all debate whether or not we've seen the end of Friendster, but remember how it got its name in the first place? Before it and its clones (Snuffster, STDster, and my personal favorite--Introvertster), there was Napster.
I caught a banner ad today for napsterbits--little cartoons that are promoting the return of Napster.
The thing that always bothered me about Napster getting forced out of business was the flawed legal logic behind the RIAA's arguments. Of course, I'm no lawyer like Star Jones, but it seems to me that Napster didn't break the law so much as allow others a way to break it. Do we blame Ford or Honda for people who speed? I don't think so. Napster didn't steal music. People did. (And still do).
August 12, 2003
There are going to be some changes here. Actually, not really here so much as here.
August 11, 2003
If your school was anything like mine, when you read Dante's Inferno in the tenth grade, your assignment was to write your own circle of hell. To this day, I think that was the most fun I ever had doing homework. And if you had any doubt about my literary geekiness, let me admit that I was the only one in class who wrote my canto in terza rima. My English teacher, Mrs. McCormick, loved me for that.
My level of hell was for untalented musicians. Tracy Chapman played my Virgil. We ran into Debbie Gibson and New Kids On the Block. The worst violator in my eyes, though, was Tiffany. Her punishment involved being forced to play "Could Have Been" over and over. This is torture in and of itself, but I added a little something more. The piano to which she was strapped used her long, overly shellacked hair in place of regular piano wires. Each note, each key she tapped cause more hair to be yanked from her scalp.
I was on a mission to berate the bubblegum pop of the day. I was listening to the Smiths and New Order and 10,000 Maniacs and was very earnest, of course. I antagonized classmates who wore NKOTB tees or dotted their i's with butterflies. I wrote columns in the school paper making fun of these pop idols for not writing their own music. How on earth could "Electric Youth" compare with "Louder than Bombs"? Didn't anyone get it?
Truth be told, I did think Joey MacIntyre was kinda cute, though.
August 07, 2003
Strangely, I'm in a much better mood than earlier this morning. In between then and now, I went to the dentist to get a filling. It was one of the back ones so it was not fun. I had more tools in my mouth than your average Crew Club "fitness enthusiast". The dentist was all Open WIDER! and I kept thinking Shouldn't this be old hat for me by now? But it’s done and I'm happy.
In other health-related news, it has been over a week since I had a cigarette. I've been remarkably okay. I haven't had too many nic-fit-induced temper tantrums. And G.Love has been remarkably patient when they do happen. What a great boyfriend. After nine years, it still warms my heart when he ducks as I start throwing dishes around the apartment.
No, I don't throw things that could break [easily]. But I do have a temper (cf., Irish, Leo, etc.) and can throw tantrums. My father was a master at handling those. He would taunt me by coaching me in them. Maybe you should get down on the ground and kick your feet, Chris. Or why don't you scream louder? Let me see you throw something, come on. What a great dad. And this would be in a store. Me: red-faced, insistent. Him: cool, collected. Everyone else in the store: WTF?
My dad always told me No one likes a smart ass, Chris. But I do. And obviously so does he.
Since (to borrow a term from him) I am an out-and-proud font fag, I liked these links: Behind the Typeface: Cooper Black [via Jonno] and The Retail Alphabet Game.
Black Sheep of the Day: Comcast. Our cable has been out for over a week because they have the most inconvienent appointment system in the world. A ten-hour window? Why don't you just say We'll be there sometime between now and when hell freezes over. Not to mention the fact that they've been dragging their feet on the cable modem thing for our building (which is too old for DSL--it sucks, but hey JFK lived there). They said it would be ready in May, then June, then July, now September. Guess they figured we wouldn't believe it if they said August. Come on, babies, get your act together--Papa needs some entertainment.
The Skinny and the Dead
I get upset when I see the proponderance of dangerously thin women on television. Two things really bother me about it. On the macro level, these images do damage to many healthy women's images. Body dysmorphia is already rampant in our society (I suffer from it myself sometimes according to Glenn), and the David E. Kelley girls do not help. On the micro level, what is wrong with everyone around these women? Get them help! Is Hollywood so warped that no one dares approach them with the facts?
Is it just me? Maybe I've watched Todd Haynes' Superstar too much.
When I saw this photo I was taken back to Ms. Jorgensen's 9th grade geography class. We were watching a slide show with images from Africa. One slide popped up of a little boy with a swollen belly. It immediately drew laughter from the class. He looked like he had a beer gut. Our teacher explained that a distended abdomen was a common symptom of extreme cases of malnutrition. It quickly shut us up.
Then there are the Americans at the other extreme--an audience full of people chowing down on supersized Double Quarter Pounder meals as they watch The Practice. The parents who allow their young children to get extremely obese really bother me. The other day, I saw a six-year-old who had trouble walking because of his weight. That's a form of child abuse in my eyes. Sure there are some people who have honest medical conditions that cause obesity, but I would venture that most of these children are victims whose caregivers have substituted junk food and television for active parenting.
August 06, 2003
That Slow Southern Pace
In North Carolina, it takes one hour and five minutes to get from erect to climax. [via www.fuckallyall.com]
August 05, 2003
Saturday: Early to rise, early to drive, 95 north, we forgot the phone number. Pit stop to get online and find an email with the needed numbers. Back on track, turnpike, rest stops, middle America is fat and ugly. The skyline hidden in haze until we are almost on top of it. This is my favorite city. This is the world's best. Hop out of the car, hug dear friend and host J on the street outside of his place. We are here. Ditch our things. Talk poetry. Talk art. Talk city life. Walk to park. Walk to Times Square. Wonder why anyone would come to NY and eat at Applebee's. Meet up with J's boyfriend (fiancé, even) M. Wait in line for a restaurant Glenn heard about. Realize it's just not worth it. They take us to a better one. Delicious. See a movie. Make fun of Benifer and their lack of an audience. Have dessert. Listen to new music. Talk into the night.
Sunday: The Times. Who they know who made it into the Review of Books. Bagels (yum). Row boat in Central Park. Little kid ruining his mother's snapshot by picking the nose of the Hans Christian Andersen statue. Go little kid. Showers break. Duck in to Tiffany. No Holly in sight. More shopping. Cute indeterminate Slavic boy with his parents cruises Glenn in H&M . G-love delightfully oblivious. Sun shower down 5th ave. Eat more. Shop more. Glenn buys Turkish desserts from an Amish Market in Hell's Kitchen. Hugs and kisses for our hosts. Get back to the car (safe under the watchful eye of a fifty-foot Julie Chen). Hit the Tunnel. Miss NY immediately. But miss my apartment and my cat and my DC too (and, for the record, my DC is not yours or anyone else's and that is why I'm one of the few people who really love it).
August 01, 2003
A Knife and a Fork, a Bottle and a Cork
That's the way you spell the city I'm going to visit this weekend. I don't know why. If you do, please explain.