 The Long-Winded Part of My Brain Takes Over Once Again
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Apr. 16th, 2008 @ 12:36 pm 
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There's so much to tell you about! Let's get in it!
PARANOIA: GOOD FOR NOTHING ONE THING?
My workplace, Fancy Events, has been conducting layoffs. I'm not sure if it's due to the anniversary of the VT shooting (thinking of all ya'll Hokies today by the way) or just a general inclination toward paranoia and worst-case-scenario-fixation, but I'm finding myself more than slightly concerned that someone is going to roll up and go postal. I happened to let a guy I didn't recognize onto the floor this morning (wearing a suspiciously overstuffed backpack, too - THE FAVORED ACCESSORY OF EVERY CRIMINAL MASTERMIND), which got me rolling on the Paranoia Express (next stop: What If Greta Chokes On That Piece Of Pistachio Shell She Ate The Other Day And Dies? All Aboard!).
Oh, I don't know. I'm being ridiculous, I'm sure. I mean, it's not as if your average neer-do-well could ever hope to subvert the impregnable lobby security. No criminal will ever realize that if you so much as flash a piece of laminate with some writing on it in their direction, the building security jackstools are like so much warm putty in your hands. In any case, I've developed a contingency plan, which is: at the first sound of a dust-up or deployment of a firearm, turn off my monitor, throw my croissant away, and climb into my (empty) bottom desk drawer. I will totally fit, too. Movie producers take note: I will never, ever be your screaming flailing extra in your crazed-gunman bloodbath scene. I'll be calmly climbing into my own desk drawer and fetaling it out. I was a Boy Scout!
WINGARDIUM LEVI-SEW-SA!
(Harry Potter humor! Welcome to The Land That Dork Forgot.)
Yes, the sewing machine arrived. Yes, it is beautiful and perfect and I love it. No, I haven't started making things with it yet. Yes, I imagine that these questions are at the forefront of all of your brains at all times. Okay, I'll level with you. I am intimidated by my new toy. I haven't the first clue what to do with it other than stare at it greedily and will it to start sewing all by itself. I kind of thought I'd get it and plug it in and just start rocking out, but it turns out you have to… know stuff. The manual that came with the machine could only be less helpful if it was just a bunch of blank pages stapled together, too. It's all bla bla bobbin bla bla weft bla bla other impossible sewing terminologies bla bla and in conclusion, have fun staring at your $300 plastic box, sucker! So it turns out I'll have to take a class or whatever instead of just punk-rockingly teaching myself, as I'd intended.
'WARE THE EVIL MACHINES
I'm in full home-remodel mode (the joy of once again having a job that pays in actual money as opposed to discarded peanut hulls) and right now I'm busily designing and constructing some new shelves for my kitchen. I stayed up until 4:30a working on this and they are only 1/4 done. I've got a HOLE SAW attached to my drill. Have you guys ever experienced a hole saw before? Because the thing about this is, yes, sure, a regular old drill could kill you, but a hole saw could like, COMPLETELY KILL YOU. Terrifying! When I work on the shelves, I sequester all the pets away because I imagine my cordless drill turning on the human race like in that one episode of Futurama where there was a robot uprising, and cutting a bloody swath through my nine-inhabitant apartment. Although, do drills contain robots? I'm taking no chances. Safety first! Other safety precautions observed: climbing precariously on stepladder for better leverage; sometimes remembering to engage the safety lock between drill sessions; resting beer bottle on the OTHER counter while I am drilling.
ASLEEP/AWAKE/JAM, NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER
I had insomnia last night - as I mentioned I was up until 4:30a noodling with my shelves. I then got into bed and read for twenty minutes, because no matter how late I get to bed or how tired I am, I always read for a bit before I go to sleep. This is a lifelong compulsion and I have made my peace with it. So I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be beset by an episode of sleep paralysis. After which I couldn't get back to sleep again. Wow, nattering about sleep patterns! This is thrilling content, huh! I bet none of YOU are having trouble going to sleep at the moment!
And speaking of wakefulness: despite my avowed dislike of horror films, two of them were forced on me over the weekend. One, The Ruins, was silly enough that it happily did not keep me awake with nightmares, although it did keep me awake trying to imitate the German character's plaintive and surprisingly empathic line delivery: "Cut zem off!" "Somesing's wr-rong!" "HEINRICH!", etc. We went to a bar after to drown our sorrows about the movie's dumbness. This was the first time I have ever seen Shacid, Pluta, Nat, and Zach in one room together, and as they are possibly the four funniest guys I know personally, I was excited. They did not disappoint, either, except for when Shacid totally broke this drawer artifact thing about one (1) second after he sat down at the bar. That disappointed me deeply. Another thing that disappointed me was how they would not stop throwing their peanut shells at me (it was one of those kinds of bars) even after I issued a STERN REMONSTRANCE TO STOP IMMEDIATELY. Don't go out with them, is what I'm saying. They'll force you to go to movies against your will and throw trash ON YOU.
I also watched The Shining at 2am after a seven-hour music practice (The Shining at 2am. How? Why? Such a bad idea. Judgment obviously impaired by hurty fingers and beer) but I have to tell you: it's a good movie! I mean, I really was able to enjoy it despite the fact that it scared me silly. Although, the whole "Red Rum" thing might have been scarier had I not just been beset by Peter Gabriel's "Red Rain" playing on loop in my head the whole time. Not the first time a former member of Genesis has ruined a film experience for me, and I'm sure it won't be the last.
I mentioned a seven-hour music practice. Nat and Pluta and Zach and I went a-singing and a-playing in Union Square on Sunday. (Shacid came to provide moral support, too!) It was fun overload! I have always been kind of terrified to do the playing-on-the-street thing, but I have to tell you, this was good times. If only we were a real band! HINT!
POETS-CUM-PORN STARS
I will leave you with a fun game of Pluta's invention which, once I tell it to you, you will be powerless to make your brain stop playing. You have been warned.
Inspired, I think, by the chalk board outside my apartment, which is currently inscribed with an Ezra Pound poem ("In a Station of the Metro") heldover from Poem Night a couple of weeks ago, Pluta turned to Zach and me on the way down to the train the other day, and posited the following:
PLUTA
So, what if canonical poets became porn stars.
ANGELA
...
ZACH
… what?
PLUTA
You know, like, what would their porn star names be? Like, Ezra Pound would probably become Ezra Pounded.
ZACH
Ummm… I mean… e.e. cummings?
PLUTA
Emily Dickinme.
ZACH
Virgil could be… hmm, Vergin?
ANGELA
And Homer could be Foamer.
ZACH
Walt Whiphim.
PLUTA
Edgar Ballsand Hos.
ZACH
William Butthump Yeats.
ANGELA
Robert Froth.
I type type type! My gosh! Look at me go! I haven't been much good on content lately so hopefully this will be okay and not make you wish I would seriolzly shut up already. I have even more to tell you about that I didn't even get to! Pets! Supersnack! Dead mice! Rhea Perlman vs. Ron Perlman! Next time.
By the way, this oversized entry contains three (count 'em!) separate references to nut hulls. Impressive. |
And if you get shot through the side of the desk no one will find you until the SMELL! Eeeeewww.
And Ron Perelman!!
And the TV mini-series of The Shining is pretty darned good too!
And koo-koo-kachoo!
Oooo... is this the new Robert DeNiro vehicle? I'm get my tickets NOW!
T. S. "Titty Suck" Eliot stars in The Love Song of J. Alfred HugeCock
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| From: | ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) iskew |
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| Date: |
April 16th, 2008 06:41 pm (UTC) |
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Ron Pearlman.
And William Carnal Williams.
William Carnal Williams... did he write "The Red Rusty Trombone?"
Don't forget...we came up with e.e. cummings, too.
He's on there, smartypants.
Oh, I wrote that from work where my browser automatically filters out all the filth that's on the web.
Didn't Lewis Carroll write "Jabbercocky"?
"Beware the Jabbercock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!"
His porn name was Vanessa Del Rio, which was later taken by Ana Maria Sanchez from Harlem.
Reamer Maria Rilke.
John Skeets.
Alfred, Lord Teninchson
Sylvia Splath (the sound that a condom makes when you take it off)
Elizabeth Barret Browneye
Robert (Rug) Burns
Manual Pleaser Coleridge
Don't forget e.e. cummings
I think I just read that you dislike horror films. I don't know, Angela. I don't think we can be friends anymore.
If I say I dislike the Indigo Girls, would that make us even?
(I'm totally razzin' ya!)
Has anyone mentioned e.e. cummings yet? Because that's the best one!
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