Oh look, it's Dietrich

So I finally finished going through the confessional post this year; there went my week. ;) I'm still not entirely sure why I let myself get caught up in it every year. It has this incredibly compelling quality I can't define, even if I skip the parts that contain ugly drama.

The thing that struck me, though, was this. I'm usually mentioned in the confessional, if only once or twice, and so far, always favorably. But I notice that what people usually have to say is that I'm sexy (about which I cannot complain), and further, that I have some kind of untouchable/mysterious/sensual/powerful quality that makes them afraid to talk to me.

And all I can think is, really? Still? I know I don't spend as much time as I could in the company of the core group that tends to most participate in the confessional. But I feel like I am out there to a certain degree, I'm very public about who I am, and I try to be friendly when I'm not feeling too introverted or crazed. I guess it keeps surprising me that there are people who think I'm scary. The encouraging thing, I guess, is that I figure the people whom I find intimidating probably feel the same way about themselves: i.e., I shouldn't really be afraid to approach them. :)

But I guess I wish that if I were going to get mentioned, someone would say, "I love her writing," or "Her show was really good," or "She really helped me this one time." I mean, I know it's ultimately a crush meme, but somebody started this "fan letters" trend of suggesting people to say nice things about, and it was neat to see the kinds of nice things that people noticed about each other. It took such a long time in my life for me to feel as though I were seen at all; it's a very special gift to be seen accurately, and it's one of my favorite things when it happens.

This is one of my favorite memes, but I think it's mainly because I have such good luck with it.

1 - Go to Wikipedia.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random Wikipedia article title that you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to The Quotations Page random quotations:
http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to Flickr and click on "explore the last seven days"
http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

My take this time:

Marshall Jevons
Out With The Tide



Go look at the larger image, it's worth it...

I've been listening to a lot of podcasts while exercising lately, and I'm loving "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me." The one I listened to yesterday had a highly entertaining piece about best-selling Japanese novels that were composed on cell phones. Taking it just that step further (as they tend to do over there for the sake of comedy gold), Peter Sagal had Carl Kasell read some famous novels - if they had been written on Twitter.

(I reproduce here from memory - accuracy not guaranteed.)

The Grapes of Wrath: Times are bad. Sister breastfeeding homeless guy. Man, I'm outta here.

Pride and Prejudice: I hate that guy! Actually, he's kinda hot.

and my favorite,

Lolita: This post removed due to violation of Terms of Service.

I propose starting a meme - particularly because I kind of hate Twitter and find it useless. Express your favorite novels in fewer than 140 characters - and have people guess what they are.

Here's mine (trivially easy):

Bellies of airplanes suck. Much prefer trees. Especially while naked. They can't prove I'm not really crazy.

I was walking through a small field of clover today and I thought: who came up with the expression "the luck of the Irish"? Speaking in terms of historical suffering and persecution, wouldn't that be like referring to "the luck of the Jews"?!

Apparently there's a reason why Dr. Bronner's Soap bottles have crazy unintelligible religious ravings on them. It's fascinating, actually.

I always thought they were just weird word salad stuff to make the hippie soap funnier. Funny is trendy, you know.

A shriek and a crash outside, the thud horrid with finality even as the car horn drones. I sit and wonder how close it is, where it is, whether anyone is dead tonight outside my window. Through the blinds, sirens blink, the lights screaming loud as their howls.

Hi, friends list,

Do you have an online weather service that you like? I have weather.com bookmarked in my toolbar to show me weather in my town, but the site is rife with aggravating pop-up-like things and dancing robots. It'd be nice to have something a bit simpler and well, maybe cooler.

I wish to fcuk with you! Also I hope you too! One mroe my photo, do not terminate;)


Was this spam written by a Dalek? You decide...

This word, for some reason, is filling me with goofy wonder today - especially the second definition:

gnomon (NO-mon) noun

1. The raised arm of a sundial that indicates the time of day by its
shadow.

2. The remaining part of a parallelogram after a similar smaller
parallelogram has been taken away from one of the corners.


The word is ultimately from the root meaning "to know," which makes sense for the first definition. But the second?

All I can think of is a lonely parallelogram crying out after its fleeing part, "Come baaaaack!"

Yesterday, when I was coming out of a hotel with a friend, I realized I had to validate parking inside. She offered to go in and do it, and when she emerged, she had a validated parking pass, my change, and a warm chocolate chip cookie of which she offered me a piece. It was a policy of the hotel's to give a cookie to guests; it was also the perfect thing at the right time.

Today, when I picked up imlad's mother from the airport for yet another of the seemingly endless series of dentist's appointments, she gave me the chocolate chip cookie she'd gotten on the plane. I stuck it in my pocket for later.

I'm bleeding today, crampy, tired and a little grouchy, and when I went to Baker's Best, the excellent cafe in Newton where I tend to sit during these dentist's visits, it was too late to get a hot sandwich from the grill. The brash and charming young manager, with his broad Massachusetts accent, commiserated, understood my strong desire for a tuna melt, but couldn't give me one. I must have looked so pathetic that he gave me - you guessed it - a free chocolate chip cookie.

Things could be worse.