May 23rd, 2004

goblin sneak

(no subject)

i've been reading chronicle of a death foretold by gabriel garcia marquez. if g.g. marquez was a writer of novellas, i might be more excited, because i mean, i'm enjoying this one. but i just don't see how so many "the sun fell through the banyon trees" & "coffee mixed with cane liquor" could sustain an entire novel. though i do like the use of the arabs in it; they're exotic, in a locale thats exotic to me as the reader. which gets a thumbs up. i guess i shouldn't judge to harshly? i'll give him a fair shake eventually. i suppose i tend to be critical of things i read, & then later surprised when i tell someone how much i liked them.

last night we went out among the witches & the warlocks to see coffee & cigarettes with carla & andrew. its mostly a series of shorts, interconnected by theme towards the end. the bit with rza, gza, & bill murray is just priceless, & cate blanchette is adorable. i want to put cate b. in a cave & fight off all her suitors. it seems only proper. the repeated conversation about tesla coils was great, too, & jack white wasn't too awful (unlike his sucktacular "sister"). & iggy pop's whipped dog attitude towards tom waits? was hillarious.
  • Current Music
    crown me king- king of all petpets.

(no subject)

oh fucking hell. how about the mundane keeps hassling me, is that cool? i mean, the real world is so important to me. fucking "real world." me & 7 billion strangers. i'll start getting real as soon as i bust out my shotgun. these annoyances fucking get under my skin.

speaking of getting under my skin! i just spent an hour digging the point of a nail out of the heel of my foot. i stepped on something getting into the shower & was like "well thats quite the motherfuck. apparently i'll be tiny tim, hobbling around on fucking crutches now." i figured it was broken glass or something. because when i was hopping around the apartment like a dufflepod, i fucking stepped on broken glass! fuck everything. eventually using a needle, tweezers, & nail clippers, i dug a deep enough hole in the callous of my foot (blood everywhere) to extract the jagged piece of metal.

now all i have to do is get my shit together & figure out how this paper is going to come together. oh the pieces will fall into place. by "place" i mean "a jumble." luckily i'm smart as fuck, & my jumble resembles the fucking taj mahal. i've got articles here, i've got notes & i've got gumption. & i've got a library, starting tommorow. look out post-proceedural historical ecology- i'm going to gently rock your world, till your cradle effing drops.
  • Current Mood
    the certainty of hatred.
closeup samurai

(no subject)

i finished watching the prisoner tonight. people had predicted that since i'm a twin peaks fan, i would like the final episode. they were not mistaken. i enjoyed it all around, but in specific i enjoyed it because it was pretty thematically true to the show. or i mean, in terms of plot progression at least. 1) the villiage fucks with number six. 2) number six figures it out. 3) number six plays along. 4) number six flips out & starts punchin' bros left & right. fin. i really liked that the gunslinger from "living in harmony" made it out in the end. he was a right proper fellow. also, a midget firing a machine gun was the best thing i've seen on television all week.

i'm actually writing on notecards for my paper!
  • Current Mood
    number two (of three)