Saturday, May 19, 2007

 

My Fingers Have Been Drinking

When I drink, even a little, the first things to go are my inner ear (I get very off balance) and, apparently, my ability to type/spell. My relationship to sounds becomes very loose. Phonemes swim and join each other. A good example (one beer! I'm not a lush!): I just tried to spell the word "obtained" as "updained."

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Friday, May 18, 2007

 

Shanna does a podcast! Whoo!

Tonight I am going to the Hirshhorn Museum's "after hours" event to practice being a yuppie. I will hold a glass of wine and look deflatedly fascinating -- just enough to amuse you without intimidating you. I'll also be very knowledgeable about 401Ks and the housing market.

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Thursday, May 17, 2007

 

My keyboard has jam all over it. Screw you, too.

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I just cried. What the hell. I don't do that very often, but felt very overwhelmed. Afterwards is kind of nice and hollow and echoey. I am not depressed with a big d, but with a little d. Temporary and mostly tired and sick of this city and everyone in it (except you . . . nope, you too. sorry.) I am listening to the Arcade Fire which at least makes me feel like being mildly sad is something that is okay.

In our next life, let's be cowboys. My name will be Slim and I'll call you Cactus. Normally I would write something this mopey and then not post it but I'm not keeping any secrets from my Cactus.

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Be it Known: Barbara Heritage gives good book:

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Failing the Turing Test is a lot like performing Waiting for Godot.

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Wednesday, May 16, 2007

 

StupidCute!

And so to bed.

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The sleepless nights are finally catching up: I may actually go to bed "on time" tonight. I've been waking up earlier and earlier each morning due to the energetic nature of a blackbird that has decided that my windowsill is the perfect place from which to greet the dawn. I haven't had this much hatred for a bird since the pigeons tried to make a nest in my air conditioner in NYC and I had to flush them out by poking a wooden spoon through the slats.

As usual, the answer is "guns," but, again as usual, I don't have the guts to meet the situation with the resolve that it demands.

I also have no guns.

I do have one beer left and Bebel Gilberto on the stereo. Chasing the blues away. The tired lawyer blues:

Oh I got briefs to write, and I feel so blue
Oh I got briefs to write, and I feel so blue
There's so many cases and citations here
Guess I'll just have to sue

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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

 

The baby-eating monster is very full of babies, and has gone to take a long nap. Viva la Squash Blossom!

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By semi-popular demand, a graphic guide to all the published tinysides.

Too much on my plate. Six books in various stages of production, some more I need to bind for an outstanding order. I want to get some of the oranges poems submitted, but haven't gotten around to actually sending anything out yet. The work horizon at my actual job appears to be growing full of horribleness. Like working on the weekend. Eek!

Speaking of weekends, I'll be making my curatorial debut at In Your Ear on Sunday. Bruce Andrews and Mel Nichols! 3 p.m. at DC Arts Center. Slightly more information here. If you are not there, you are a very boring and regular quadrilateral.

And remember, kids: I may not love you, but Fidel does. He wants you to be free!

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I don't trust you. You know why.

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Let's Get in Trouble

Cincinnati Fire Kites!

(Instructions).

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Monday, May 14, 2007

 

Jessica has posted a photo of all her tinysides.

Here are mine:

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Sunday, May 13, 2007

 

Lyric of the Day

"You need a whole lot more than half a brain to tease me."

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a feather for your silly religious history cap.

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I don't really know how to explain this, but you can make a song entirely out of sneezing Swedish kids here.

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Squash Blossom!

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Tinyside production is in full swing, as well as a new chaplet-y thing. Take a sneak peak here.

Current musical obsessions: Mystery Jets; The Geraldine Fibbers.

First full day of wearing contact lenses: a variety of smirks, smiles, flirty waves, and one dude in a car slowing down to tell me, "I love you" in a Cuban accent.

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