Tavie blogs i like:
amy
dave foley
mark mckinney
e.mail
archive
andrew
carl
barb cooking blog
boing boing
caroline
cartoon brew
chris
cityroom
consumerist
erin
gena/ deadly stealth frogs
gothamist
jim hill
kids in the hall lj
kithblog
matt k
mike t
nathan
post secret
rynn
sarah
sarah c
sean
tea rose
toby
tom
webcomics i read:
american elf
american stickman
elfquest
lolcats!
masque of the red death
the perry bible fellowship
toothpaste for dinner
ultrajoebot
xkcd
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me on the flickr
me on the formspring
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me on the myspace
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Tasty Morsels Bakery on Facebook
my 'currently-reading' shelf:
i want:
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i've read:
goodreads list
Monday, April 30, 2001
The Roosevelt Island Tram is going to be closed all week after 12 pm because they're filming "Spiderman" there. Woo woo.
I was disappointed. I was hoping for "Nighthawks 2". {g}
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:11 PM | shower me with attention
I was disappointed. I was hoping for "Nighthawks 2". {g}
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:11 PM | shower me with attention
Last Wednesday I gave my Rhodesia presentation to my anthro class. I was nervous. It went well. That night I met Gina, Linn, Kitana and erin and we saw Eating It at Irving Plaza. Patton Oswalt was very funny. Everyone else was funny to lesser and varying degrees.
On Thursday I went to Mint Manor to stay the weekend. On Friday Kitana and Linn and I went to see Matt perform in Showboat (with tech by the magnificent Goose). Matt was the best thing in the production. He stole every scene he was in and brought the house down more than once. Michael J. Fox, who was in the audience, was seen to turn quite ugly with laughter (!) at Matt's brilliant performance. I must note that Matt was the only real actor in the performance; no one else even thought to attempt a Southern accent. And he has a beautiful singing voice, although requires confidence in his harmonizing. I will help him fix this; he and I shall pack a picnic of cold chicken, cherries and spiked lemonade and sit on some rocks in Central Park and harmonize until dark. He doesn't know this yet, but that is the plan.
On Saturday, Gina and Kitana and Linn and Cheryl and I met Goose and Matt in the city with plans to see Rocky Horror at midnight. We had many many hours to kill and so we rambled about the city, mostly drinking coffee and eating and laughing at Matt's stories. (He has that power to captivate an audience even when not on a stage; it's something I've always wanted, for it is a skill positively essential for Divahood. He must give me pointers.) Goose was bashful and yet somehow luminescent; the two of them together are like watching an exceedingly good magic show (a la peanabudder sandwiches and the like). She freaked me out slightly by consuming extremely disgusting-looking candied orange slices, and I freaked her out with a revelation about the smell of my urine. It's a tradition, she and I freaking eachother out. Then I bought her some asparagus and Matt took us to the hookah place where we all pretended we were the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland as we smoked and ate Arabic food. (Or perhaps only I pretended.)
Afterwards we went to Village Karaoke and screamed "Like A Prayer" into the microphones and laughed a whole lot.
Then, tragically, Goose and Matt were forced to go home. I tried to get them to stay using logic, bribery and tears, but they were pillars of strength retreating into the darkness. Little punks.
So it was just our quintet of Goils who proceeded to 12th and 2nd to enjoy Linn's first viewing of Rocky ever. (She was the "warm-up virgin" of the night, and did a
very fine job indeed.) It was fun, as it always is. The guy playing Frank was the best Frank I'd ever seen.
On Sunday, it was a very tired quintet of Goils that rode with Cheryl to Rhode Island to see her band, Brite Phoenix (I will never support that name) perform at their first gig. It was at this event that The Magic happened. Cheryl was luminous and appeared very at ease in front of the crowd; her dark gothness and sunny spirit captivated all, and she sang beautifully. Not having slept the night before, I was extremely sleepy and nodded off severall times into my meatballs, despite the beauty of Cheryl's singing. However, she sang one song during their second set that woke me right up. That girl has a gift for surprises (she surprised us with The Pilot(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) on Friday night, which resulted in much drunken revelry, which is a story I'd best let someone else tell). She sang a song she had written. It was dedicated to The Goils. It was called "alt.fan.us" and it was an incredible, funny, touching, silly, wonderful tribute to our collective love. I demand that she send us all the lyrics so we can learn it and have it become our new anthem. Gina and I, upon realizing what the song was about and hearing some of the lyrics ("Cheesecake and Baileys", "my two passions", "The Royal We", "coasting on charm", to name a few), burst into tears and spent the entire song hugging poor Kitana and sobbing. It was magical and wonderful, especially with the knowledge that our lives have been so profoundly affected by having known each other that Cheryl's very presence on a stage, singing, was in some part due to it.
The love is a profound thing. It's profound love. Oh, the love. You know what I mean.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:12 PM | shower me with attention
On Thursday I went to Mint Manor to stay the weekend. On Friday Kitana and Linn and I went to see Matt perform in Showboat (with tech by the magnificent Goose). Matt was the best thing in the production. He stole every scene he was in and brought the house down more than once. Michael J. Fox, who was in the audience, was seen to turn quite ugly with laughter (!) at Matt's brilliant performance. I must note that Matt was the only real actor in the performance; no one else even thought to attempt a Southern accent. And he has a beautiful singing voice, although requires confidence in his harmonizing. I will help him fix this; he and I shall pack a picnic of cold chicken, cherries and spiked lemonade and sit on some rocks in Central Park and harmonize until dark. He doesn't know this yet, but that is the plan.
On Saturday, Gina and Kitana and Linn and Cheryl and I met Goose and Matt in the city with plans to see Rocky Horror at midnight. We had many many hours to kill and so we rambled about the city, mostly drinking coffee and eating and laughing at Matt's stories. (He has that power to captivate an audience even when not on a stage; it's something I've always wanted, for it is a skill positively essential for Divahood. He must give me pointers.) Goose was bashful and yet somehow luminescent; the two of them together are like watching an exceedingly good magic show (a la peanabudder sandwiches and the like). She freaked me out slightly by consuming extremely disgusting-looking candied orange slices, and I freaked her out with a revelation about the smell of my urine. It's a tradition, she and I freaking eachother out. Then I bought her some asparagus and Matt took us to the hookah place where we all pretended we were the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland as we smoked and ate Arabic food. (Or perhaps only I pretended.)
Afterwards we went to Village Karaoke and screamed "Like A Prayer" into the microphones and laughed a whole lot.
Then, tragically, Goose and Matt were forced to go home. I tried to get them to stay using logic, bribery and tears, but they were pillars of strength retreating into the darkness. Little punks.
So it was just our quintet of Goils who proceeded to 12th and 2nd to enjoy Linn's first viewing of Rocky ever. (She was the "warm-up virgin" of the night, and did a
very fine job indeed.) It was fun, as it always is. The guy playing Frank was the best Frank I'd ever seen.
On Sunday, it was a very tired quintet of Goils that rode with Cheryl to Rhode Island to see her band, Brite Phoenix (I will never support that name) perform at their first gig. It was at this event that The Magic happened. Cheryl was luminous and appeared very at ease in front of the crowd; her dark gothness and sunny spirit captivated all, and she sang beautifully. Not having slept the night before, I was extremely sleepy and nodded off severall times into my meatballs, despite the beauty of Cheryl's singing. However, she sang one song during their second set that woke me right up. That girl has a gift for surprises (she surprised us with The Pilot(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) on Friday night, which resulted in much drunken revelry, which is a story I'd best let someone else tell). She sang a song she had written. It was dedicated to The Goils. It was called "alt.fan.us" and it was an incredible, funny, touching, silly, wonderful tribute to our collective love. I demand that she send us all the lyrics so we can learn it and have it become our new anthem. Gina and I, upon realizing what the song was about and hearing some of the lyrics ("Cheesecake and Baileys", "my two passions", "The Royal We", "coasting on charm", to name a few), burst into tears and spent the entire song hugging poor Kitana and sobbing. It was magical and wonderful, especially with the knowledge that our lives have been so profoundly affected by having known each other that Cheryl's very presence on a stage, singing, was in some part due to it.
The love is a profound thing. It's profound love. Oh, the love. You know what I mean.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:12 PM | shower me with attention
Tara! You know what? My mom has that book, The Bad Girl's Guide to the Open Road and it's been living in Gina's car since January.
There's a BNL concert in NJ? Why am I so out of the loop?
Aimee and David Sedaris in New York? I must somehow be a part of this. (Even if it's Amy and David Sedaris, I must be a part of this.)
Happy belated birthday a third time!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:59 AM | shower me with attention
There's a BNL concert in NJ? Why am I so out of the loop?
Aimee and David Sedaris in New York? I must somehow be a part of this. (Even if it's Amy and David Sedaris, I must be a part of this.)
Happy belated birthday a third time!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:59 AM | shower me with attention
1. I'm back. Yay. Thanks to erin for figuring out the problem (ran out of webspace).
2. So much for this. Love and thanks to my dear friends Bob and Rynn for trying and trying to secure this for me. Mayebay rot in hell.
3. After much careful pondering, re: Stephanie's question, I'm still going to have to go with the predictable answer. Whaddyagonnado.
4. This morning as I was buying a metrocard a woman in the subway approached me and asked for change. "Excuse me, sir?" she said. "Sir?" There was no one else around so I looked up. "Oh, excuse me, ma'am, could you spare some change?" The only money I had was a quarter left over from the PATH fare lent by Gina, so I gave it to the woman. I wonder why she thought I was a man.
5. Tonight the Mint Manor brigade is meeting my mom and me at a Swedish restaurant in the city for dinner. It's Linn's farewell because she's going back to Sweden Wednesday. Kitana goes back to Toronto Thursday. It'll just be me, Gina and Gina's new computer. Sad. Sad. Sad.
6. The events of the past few days, starring Goose, Matt and Cheryl must and shall be documented when I have time and energy. Right now, a nap before class.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:49 AM | shower me with attention
2. So much for this. Love and thanks to my dear friends Bob and Rynn for trying and trying to secure this for me. Mayebay rot in hell.
3. After much careful pondering, re: Stephanie's question, I'm still going to have to go with the predictable answer. Whaddyagonnado.
4. This morning as I was buying a metrocard a woman in the subway approached me and asked for change. "Excuse me, sir?" she said. "Sir?" There was no one else around so I looked up. "Oh, excuse me, ma'am, could you spare some change?" The only money I had was a quarter left over from the PATH fare lent by Gina, so I gave it to the woman. I wonder why she thought I was a man.
5. Tonight the Mint Manor brigade is meeting my mom and me at a Swedish restaurant in the city for dinner. It's Linn's farewell because she's going back to Sweden Wednesday. Kitana goes back to Toronto Thursday. It'll just be me, Gina and Gina's new computer. Sad. Sad. Sad.
6. The events of the past few days, starring Goose, Matt and Cheryl must and shall be documented when I have time and energy. Right now, a nap before class.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:49 AM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, April 25, 2001
Stephanie asks:
"If you could sleep with anyone, past, present, or future (if that's possible), who would it be and why? I'm curious."
I'm not going to go with the predictable answer, because that's too predictable.
This probably require more careful thought than I have time to give. I'll think and get back to this question after the Big Presentation, which is in exactly one half-hour so I'd better get moving.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:30 PM | shower me with attention
"If you could sleep with anyone, past, present, or future (if that's possible), who would it be and why? I'm curious."
I'm not going to go with the predictable answer, because that's too predictable.
This probably require more careful thought than I have time to give. I'll think and get back to this question after the Big Presentation, which is in exactly one half-hour so I'd better get moving.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:30 PM | shower me with attention
I need a new wallet. If you happen to see a wallet that screams "Tavie" at you, would you please purchase said wallet and send it to me? I will reimburse you. However, do not purchase it if it does not scream "Tavie".
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:26 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:26 AM | shower me with attention
Tomorrow will be an exciting day. First, I will humiliate myself by reading my paper in front of my anthropology class. I just hope I don't say anything that's wrong enough to have the teacher yell at me. She tends to get angry when someone says something "wrong". (I never say anything so she's never yelled at me, but tomorrow it is REQUIRED that I say something. Uh oh.)
Then I will go to that comedy thing at Irving Plaza. Gina will be there. Not only that, but Linn will be there. And coming down with Linn from Toronto will be one of my favourite people in the world, someone who I love very purely with all of my heart, Kitana will be there!!! This is very exciting. I love her so much, sometimes I just sit around reflecting upon my love for her. I'll think of something funny or smart she said and think, "I am so lucky to know her."
After the show, erin will come to sleep at my apartment. She knows very well the horrible dirty slumlike mess that this place is, and therefore I will not bother feeling sorry for her; she asked to. Anyway, the show will be fun. Lots of funny people will be performing.
Sadly, Goose, whom I also love, will not be there. Neither will my relatively new lovee, Matt.
But!!!!
We will see them BOTH on Friday AND Saturday!
Speaking of Friday, which, if you're keeping up, is when the auction for the only thing in life I wish to own ends, another relatively new lovee, Bob, will try and secure this for me in my absence from my computer.
Now, I should probably sleep to rest up for my big humiliation. I hope I don't cry; that would be ugly.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:19 AM | shower me with attention
Then I will go to that comedy thing at Irving Plaza. Gina will be there. Not only that, but Linn will be there. And coming down with Linn from Toronto will be one of my favourite people in the world, someone who I love very purely with all of my heart, Kitana will be there!!! This is very exciting. I love her so much, sometimes I just sit around reflecting upon my love for her. I'll think of something funny or smart she said and think, "I am so lucky to know her."
After the show, erin will come to sleep at my apartment. She knows very well the horrible dirty slumlike mess that this place is, and therefore I will not bother feeling sorry for her; she asked to. Anyway, the show will be fun. Lots of funny people will be performing.
Sadly, Goose, whom I also love, will not be there. Neither will my relatively new lovee, Matt.
But!!!!
We will see them BOTH on Friday AND Saturday!
Speaking of Friday, which, if you're keeping up, is when the auction for the only thing in life I wish to own ends, another relatively new lovee, Bob, will try and secure this for me in my absence from my computer.
Now, I should probably sleep to rest up for my big humiliation. I hope I don't cry; that would be ugly.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:19 AM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, April 24, 2001
I have been outbid on the only thing I ever really wanted. I have not gone back yet to place a higher bid; instead I signed up for daily email reminders to do so, planning to swoop in at the last second and steal it back.
The problem is, I just realized the auction ends on Friday, when I will be at Gina's and won't have computer access. What do I do? What do I do??? What if Kirsten's not home to bid on it for me? Oh my god.
I guess I can try to bid on it from Mint Manor but what if something goes wrong?
Someone help me.
Also, the Our Lady Peace concert was awesome. It was, I think, my first Rock Concert. I've been to concerts before, but they've all been for pop-y or folk-y or whimsical, fun-loving, tending-towards-the-silly musicians. This was my first experience with Moshing and Rowdiness and all that good stuff. And I loved it. I was exhausted but I got so into it I lost track of all time and just moved with the crowd. I jumped up and down and stamped and rocked the hizzouse.
I was very disapproving of the sponsor, though. It was something called Cunty Sark or something. A whisky. It was very, very sexist. They actually trotted out huge-breasted women to throw posters and hats at the crowd, and the guy shouted to an audience made up largely of teenagers, "I want to see some people drinking Cutty Sark tonight! Anyone I see drinking Cutty Sark gets a free tee shirt!" And there were giant posters everywhere of a huge-breasted woman on the beach. It was unbelievably sexist and stupid.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:23 AM | shower me with attention
The problem is, I just realized the auction ends on Friday, when I will be at Gina's and won't have computer access. What do I do? What do I do??? What if Kirsten's not home to bid on it for me? Oh my god.
I guess I can try to bid on it from Mint Manor but what if something goes wrong?
Someone help me.
Also, the Our Lady Peace concert was awesome. It was, I think, my first Rock Concert. I've been to concerts before, but they've all been for pop-y or folk-y or whimsical, fun-loving, tending-towards-the-silly musicians. This was my first experience with Moshing and Rowdiness and all that good stuff. And I loved it. I was exhausted but I got so into it I lost track of all time and just moved with the crowd. I jumped up and down and stamped and rocked the hizzouse.
I was very disapproving of the sponsor, though. It was something called Cunty Sark or something. A whisky. It was very, very sexist. They actually trotted out huge-breasted women to throw posters and hats at the crowd, and the guy shouted to an audience made up largely of teenagers, "I want to see some people drinking Cutty Sark tonight! Anyone I see drinking Cutty Sark gets a free tee shirt!" And there were giant posters everywhere of a huge-breasted woman on the beach. It was unbelievably sexist and stupid.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:23 AM | shower me with attention
Monday, April 23, 2001
Oh, well, as long as I'm not getting any sleep tonight...
I'm ebay crazy. I just got my Bachelor No. 2 poster and I'm gonna put it up at Mint Manor. If I don't win X the Owl I'm going to kill someone. And now, in my latest bit of craziness, I came across this auction and fell in love. I have bedsheets like that. {g} I know it's silly, but this chick makes the coolest clothes-- I looked at her other stuff, and I'm in love with the Care Bears shirt, especially-- so, anyway, I emailed her and asked her if she ever makes anything in larger sizes, and she's making me a Strawberry Shortcake peasant blouse of my own now. For a great price, too.
I am pleased.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:42 AM | shower me with attention
I'm ebay crazy. I just got my Bachelor No. 2 poster and I'm gonna put it up at Mint Manor. If I don't win X the Owl I'm going to kill someone. And now, in my latest bit of craziness, I came across this auction and fell in love. I have bedsheets like that. {g} I know it's silly, but this chick makes the coolest clothes-- I looked at her other stuff, and I'm in love with the Care Bears shirt, especially-- so, anyway, I emailed her and asked her if she ever makes anything in larger sizes, and she's making me a Strawberry Shortcake peasant blouse of my own now. For a great price, too.
I am pleased.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:42 AM | shower me with attention
Fucking hell, Our Lady Peace concert is tonight and I'm going to be exhausted out of my mind because I haven't slept all night and I have to be up in a few hours for school.
GODDAMMIT!!!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:30 AM | shower me with attention
GODDAMMIT!!!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:30 AM | shower me with attention
A note about the Rant below: please do not respond to it by telling me how Beautiful and Wonderful a person I am, and how any guy would be lucky to spend time with me, et cetera. I had seafood for dinner yesterday and that's all the fishing I'm in the market for at the moment, honest. :)
In fact, best not respond to it at all. Best to move on. Talk about the weather. Sure is hot out there, eh?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:27 AM | shower me with attention
In fact, best not respond to it at all. Best to move on. Talk about the weather. Sure is hot out there, eh?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:27 AM | shower me with attention
Okay, just one more thing about the Guy Whose Love My Sister Doesn't Return. Just one indulgence of self-pity for myself, if you please. I earned it, dammit. :)
Does anyone in the world out there think that if I were someone who doesn't resemble the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man's fat cousin Hilda, that Mr. Sad Sack would feel comfortable sharing his feelings about his sad love life to me? Does anyone out there think that if I looked just as I do now, but thin and pretty instead of fat and ugly, that I would be the Sounding Board? I would not. I would be the Next Love Prospect.
I am in no way attracted to this guy, mind you, but I wonder why it is that it's taken for granted that I wouldn't mind hearing about how much in love with my sister (or, in other cases with other Sad Sacks, my friend Erica) they are because I, myself, am fat and obviously don't have to worry about these things?
It's just, you know, it's interesting. I myself wouldn't be attracted to me, mind you, but I also don't think that just because I looked like me that I would be the perfect person to confide in about my love life. (Okay, that sentence made no sense, but it can be excused because I'm Ranting.)
I know what will be said: the reason he and other Sad Sacks are comfortable in confiding in me is because I am a thoughtful, open, understanding and empathetic person, a good listener and generous personality whose charm and sympathy invite people to open up to me.
This is obviously not true, but even if it was true, I'm tellin' ya, the boys wouldn't whine at me if I were to express this charm and sympathy looking like Christina Applegate in a halter top.
Thank you for your time.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:25 AM | shower me with attention
Does anyone in the world out there think that if I were someone who doesn't resemble the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man's fat cousin Hilda, that Mr. Sad Sack would feel comfortable sharing his feelings about his sad love life to me? Does anyone out there think that if I looked just as I do now, but thin and pretty instead of fat and ugly, that I would be the Sounding Board? I would not. I would be the Next Love Prospect.
I am in no way attracted to this guy, mind you, but I wonder why it is that it's taken for granted that I wouldn't mind hearing about how much in love with my sister (or, in other cases with other Sad Sacks, my friend Erica) they are because I, myself, am fat and obviously don't have to worry about these things?
It's just, you know, it's interesting. I myself wouldn't be attracted to me, mind you, but I also don't think that just because I looked like me that I would be the perfect person to confide in about my love life. (Okay, that sentence made no sense, but it can be excused because I'm Ranting.)
I know what will be said: the reason he and other Sad Sacks are comfortable in confiding in me is because I am a thoughtful, open, understanding and empathetic person, a good listener and generous personality whose charm and sympathy invite people to open up to me.
This is obviously not true, but even if it was true, I'm tellin' ya, the boys wouldn't whine at me if I were to express this charm and sympathy looking like Christina Applegate in a halter top.
Thank you for your time.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:25 AM | shower me with attention
I am very glad that Goose had a good summery weekend and that Matt finally got Whatever.
What the hell is up with Kitana's blog? Nothing there.
As for myself, it was very strange not going to Mint Manor for the weekend, but I think I got my paper on The Former Colony of Rhodesia done. It's complete bullshit but I have a history of doing really well with my bullshit.
Yesterday Kirsten went with me to the Met so I could get an art assignment done. Then we went to a Japanese restaurant. (I had eel.) Then we went to her favourite place in the world (apparently), a bar called Stingy Lulu's, off St. Mark's Place. She goes there a lot to flirt with the cute Japanese bartender. (She won't do any more than flirt with him because he's 33. Sheesh.) It turned out that the guy who's been in love with her for years was there with a buddy of his. This guy is nice and all, but I always end up sitting up all night while he goes on and on about how terrible his life is because my sister doesn't return his love. It's not too much fun for me to listen to after awhile, but he's nice and all so I do.
It was interminable last night, though. Kirsten went off with Cute Bartender to look at Cute Bartender's photos of himself, and I was at the bar with a gin and tonic and Mr. Sad. It lasted hours. I only had the one gin and tonic, and then about an hour later I had a cosmopolitan. That's all. But that was probably a bad idea because after I got home and went to bed I woke up so nauseous I thought I'd puke. The nausea actually woke me up.
I'm not a puker. I'm very Jerry Seinfeld in that way. I only have memories of puking maybe 5 times in my life, spaced apart by very long periods of time. (I broke a 10-year record in Australia when I was 19, and haven't been able to eat pecan pie since.)
Anyhow, boy was I sick though. I'd get up to the point where I knew I couldn't stop myself from puking, and then somehow I would. This went on and off all morning until I finally fell asleep with a plastic basin on the bed next to me, and slept all day.
Which is why I can't sleep now.
The lesson is, 1. Don't go to bars with my sister anymore. 2. If I'm gonna drink, I'm gonna stick to one drink. (A malibu and Coke for you, a G and T for me.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:14 AM | shower me with attention
What the hell is up with Kitana's blog? Nothing there.
As for myself, it was very strange not going to Mint Manor for the weekend, but I think I got my paper on The Former Colony of Rhodesia done. It's complete bullshit but I have a history of doing really well with my bullshit.
Yesterday Kirsten went with me to the Met so I could get an art assignment done. Then we went to a Japanese restaurant. (I had eel.) Then we went to her favourite place in the world (apparently), a bar called Stingy Lulu's, off St. Mark's Place. She goes there a lot to flirt with the cute Japanese bartender. (She won't do any more than flirt with him because he's 33. Sheesh.) It turned out that the guy who's been in love with her for years was there with a buddy of his. This guy is nice and all, but I always end up sitting up all night while he goes on and on about how terrible his life is because my sister doesn't return his love. It's not too much fun for me to listen to after awhile, but he's nice and all so I do.
It was interminable last night, though. Kirsten went off with Cute Bartender to look at Cute Bartender's photos of himself, and I was at the bar with a gin and tonic and Mr. Sad. It lasted hours. I only had the one gin and tonic, and then about an hour later I had a cosmopolitan. That's all. But that was probably a bad idea because after I got home and went to bed I woke up so nauseous I thought I'd puke. The nausea actually woke me up.
I'm not a puker. I'm very Jerry Seinfeld in that way. I only have memories of puking maybe 5 times in my life, spaced apart by very long periods of time. (I broke a 10-year record in Australia when I was 19, and haven't been able to eat pecan pie since.)
Anyhow, boy was I sick though. I'd get up to the point where I knew I couldn't stop myself from puking, and then somehow I would. This went on and off all morning until I finally fell asleep with a plastic basin on the bed next to me, and slept all day.
Which is why I can't sleep now.
The lesson is, 1. Don't go to bars with my sister anymore. 2. If I'm gonna drink, I'm gonna stick to one drink. (A malibu and Coke for you, a G and T for me.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:14 AM | shower me with attention
Sunday, April 22, 2001
Patchwork quilts. Polyester blouses. Bellbottoms. "Free to Be You and Me". The Paper Bag Players. Suzuki violin lessons. Tambourines. Long hair parted in the middle. The Magic Garden. Kermit. Ernie. The Count. Running under the parachute. Maurice Sendak books. 70st street and 14th avenue, Brooklyn. The Gnomes. The cartoon in the subway. Bonna the Squirrel. "The wooden things" at Brooklyn College. McDonald's Playland. The navy skirt with the purple buttons. Courderoy. The Story Box. Really Rosie.
I miss being 4.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:50 AM | shower me with attention
I miss being 4.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:50 AM | shower me with attention
I can't believe I actually found this. We used to have one when I was really little, and I've thought about it for years. You ever think about toys that you had when you were a very young child? I do, a lot. And I've actually gone and gotten similar ones on ebay, like the Fisher Price bluebird, and stuffed Care Bears and things. But the most coveted one in my mind was always the X the Owl puppet.
Please, please, please Scott in heaven let me win this auction.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:27 AM | shower me with attention
Please, please, please Scott in heaven let me win this auction.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:27 AM | shower me with attention
Saturday, April 21, 2001
I MUST HAVE THIS.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:24 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:24 PM | shower me with attention
Thursday, April 19, 2001
I just wasted 2 hours of my life doing an incredibly inane and pointless assignment for Sociology class, which I'm getting an A in anyway. (If I don't get an A plus, in fact, I will have to take issue with someone.) I had to go to a million different websites and gather information as if I were applying to grad school. It makes me want to never, ever, ever apply to grad school.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:36 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:36 PM | shower me with attention
If anyone knows anything about the former Rhodesia, particularly its relationship to South Africa, please help me. I have to give a report in front of my anthro class next Wednesday and I'm going to make a tremendous fool of myself.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:03 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:03 AM | shower me with attention
Matt tricked me into going to his web page so I would get the song "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips stuck in my head. He should be punished.
However, it is a very good web page and I like reading about him. He's lovely.
When my sister and I were in junior high we knew a boy named Sammy Wilson. Our teacher used to say we should form the new "Wilson Phillips". Only there'd be 2 Phillips and 1 Wilson in this one. But I'd still have to be "The Carnie", don't you know.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:00 AM | shower me with attention
However, it is a very good web page and I like reading about him. He's lovely.
When my sister and I were in junior high we knew a boy named Sammy Wilson. Our teacher used to say we should form the new "Wilson Phillips". Only there'd be 2 Phillips and 1 Wilson in this one. But I'd still have to be "The Carnie", don't you know.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:00 AM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, April 18, 2001
The weekend after next is the last chance Linn will have to go to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Kitana will be here too, and that is great. Check in now if you want to go.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:52 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:52 AM | shower me with attention
The New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle for the week of April 8 (I'm catching up) is so unutterably evil that I can't even go into it here. Will Shortz must die.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:48 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:48 AM | shower me with attention
Art class went fine, although I still can't figure out how to draw Lexington avenue. I hate one-point perspective and two-point perspective and perspective in general. Down with perspective; up with total distortion!
Terry saved my ass again in sociology. He is such a good guy, honestly. He once again pulled me from a regular A back up to A-plus status by getting me an extra homework sheet. I will have the opportunity to do the same for him on Thursday, as he has to miss class then. I only hope I can do a bit of good in return.
I think I need to just stop eating in general, at all times, ever. I think I should officially be done eating, starting now. No more eating. I've been eating for 21 years, enough already.
Next up: giving up going to the bathroom.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:47 AM | shower me with attention
Terry saved my ass again in sociology. He is such a good guy, honestly. He once again pulled me from a regular A back up to A-plus status by getting me an extra homework sheet. I will have the opportunity to do the same for him on Thursday, as he has to miss class then. I only hope I can do a bit of good in return.
I think I need to just stop eating in general, at all times, ever. I think I should officially be done eating, starting now. No more eating. I've been eating for 21 years, enough already.
Next up: giving up going to the bathroom.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:47 AM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, April 17, 2001
I'm nervous about going to art class today. I missed the last one before the break (and hence my chance to hand in my makeup work for the "midterm") and I'm still about 3 homeworks behind. They're going to yell at me for missing class and I'm going to be all behind and confused and frustrated.
I will go, but it will not be fun.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:15 PM | shower me with attention
I will go, but it will not be fun.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:15 PM | shower me with attention
Monday, April 16, 2001
I've been scanning Gina and Linn's Humber pics all night and amusing myself by singing Julie Andrews songs because the CD player in this computer is total shit and won't work.
I haven't finished scanning Linn's yet. She has a lot. I have to go to bed. It's 5:30 and I have a class at 1. I hope I can get up in time. Oh dear.
I really need to learn the words to more Julie Andrews songs. I know so very few, and singing like Julie Andrews may be my one true talent in this world. It is something I can actually admit to myself that I am good at. When I ran out of Sound of Music and Mary Poppins songs (I only know a few from each) I started singing the Nick at Nite lineup theme songs in Julie's voice. I actually cracked myself up. I haven't done that in a long time. My favourite is Julie singing the "Diff'rent Strokes" theme. I may cut an album. I may tour. Maybe this is what I'm destined for in life...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:33 AM | shower me with attention
I haven't finished scanning Linn's yet. She has a lot. I have to go to bed. It's 5:30 and I have a class at 1. I hope I can get up in time. Oh dear.
I really need to learn the words to more Julie Andrews songs. I know so very few, and singing like Julie Andrews may be my one true talent in this world. It is something I can actually admit to myself that I am good at. When I ran out of Sound of Music and Mary Poppins songs (I only know a few from each) I started singing the Nick at Nite lineup theme songs in Julie's voice. I actually cracked myself up. I haven't done that in a long time. My favourite is Julie singing the "Diff'rent Strokes" theme. I may cut an album. I may tour. Maybe this is what I'm destined for in life...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:33 AM | shower me with attention
Wait, I have more things to say.
Maybe it's because of Easter or something, but I've been comparing myself to Jesus all day. I realized I have a tendency to do that. It's not a God Complex so much as that I think it highly humorous that someone as pasty and sad and, to date, generally pathetic as myself might compare themselves to Jesus. There's not just the hankering to play Jesus in a production of "Godspell", but today I drew that enormous chalk portrait of myself in Gina's driveway just because I felt I should have some sort of giant graven image of myself somewhere for imaginary disciples to gather around.
There's really nothing at all Jesus-like about me. I was thinking about it. We don't have a thing in common. Not one thing. He's a man. I'm a woman. He's dead. I'm not. He's, allegedly, the son of God. I'm the daughter of alleged civil servants. (They COULD be international spies.) He had a beard. I suppose I have enough
male hormones in me to be able to grow a few wisps, but probably wouldn't allow them to remain, for cosmetic reasons. Jesus couldn't care a fig about cosmetic reasons, if what they say is true. He looks good in white. I do not. He is the basis of one of the largest religions in the world. I am the basis of A Cult Of Tavie, which consists of myself worshipping myself, secretly. Sandals give me blisters. I could go on and on, but it would just depress me more and more. I am so not Jesus. I'm not even entirely Jewish.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:21 AM | shower me with attention
Maybe it's because of Easter or something, but I've been comparing myself to Jesus all day. I realized I have a tendency to do that. It's not a God Complex so much as that I think it highly humorous that someone as pasty and sad and, to date, generally pathetic as myself might compare themselves to Jesus. There's not just the hankering to play Jesus in a production of "Godspell", but today I drew that enormous chalk portrait of myself in Gina's driveway just because I felt I should have some sort of giant graven image of myself somewhere for imaginary disciples to gather around.
There's really nothing at all Jesus-like about me. I was thinking about it. We don't have a thing in common. Not one thing. He's a man. I'm a woman. He's dead. I'm not. He's, allegedly, the son of God. I'm the daughter of alleged civil servants. (They COULD be international spies.) He had a beard. I suppose I have enough
male hormones in me to be able to grow a few wisps, but probably wouldn't allow them to remain, for cosmetic reasons. Jesus couldn't care a fig about cosmetic reasons, if what they say is true. He looks good in white. I do not. He is the basis of one of the largest religions in the world. I am the basis of A Cult Of Tavie, which consists of myself worshipping myself, secretly. Sandals give me blisters. I could go on and on, but it would just depress me more and more. I am so not Jesus. I'm not even entirely Jewish.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:21 AM | shower me with attention
I have decided to forgive erin for seeing Spy Kids because I'm sure she'll forgive me for liking Almost Famous, which I have a feeling is just too mainstream for her tastes. ;) I'll even lend her my copy of A Swiftly Tilting Planet, which, coincidentally, I just got a new/old copy of from half.com because our copy is read to shreds and I discovered, to my shock, that Kirsten had never read it.
Also she should read Many Waters. (erin, I mean. Kirsten has read it many times.)
And she can borrow my "Twitch City" tape that has 12 out of 13 episodes on it. The 13th episode is on some other tape that I haven't yet catalogued.
There's a site where, apparently, if you're Canadian you may be able to purchase The Herd, a Canadian film that I've never seen but wanted to for some reason. (Maybe because Don McKellar and Mark McKinney are each in for about a second.) They don't let you purchase it if you're not from Canada. Isn't that funny?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:05 AM | shower me with attention
Also she should read Many Waters. (erin, I mean. Kirsten has read it many times.)
And she can borrow my "Twitch City" tape that has 12 out of 13 episodes on it. The 13th episode is on some other tape that I haven't yet catalogued.
There's a site where, apparently, if you're Canadian you may be able to purchase The Herd, a Canadian film that I've never seen but wanted to for some reason. (Maybe because Don McKellar and Mark McKinney are each in for about a second.) They don't let you purchase it if you're not from Canada. Isn't that funny?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:05 AM | shower me with attention
There was more than one Tour going on this time last year. There were more than the Kids know and there were even more than The Goils know. It's really something. It brought a lot of people together. They're still together. That's pretty big. That's really something important.
(I'm not referring to just Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson here, either. {g})
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:59 AM | shower me with attention
(I'm not referring to just Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson here, either. {g})
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:59 AM | shower me with attention
Kitana reminds me that today (yesterday is still today because I haven't gone to bed yet) is the one-year anniversary of our Last Tour Show in Walling-ford. I may weep, I really may.
I just watched Almost Famous and I really loved it. I just did. It struck chords in me. The fandom thing. The glamour of Tour Life versus Real Life. I love Philip Seymour Hoffman. I love Frances McDormand. That Patrick Fugit boy was adorable. I even liked Kate Hudson a lot. Kate Hudson, the Golden Girl. I think this may be somehow hormonal, but then, I think that liking anything is all a matter of having the right hormones in the right bloodstream at the right time. That's all "striking a chord" means. That's why sometimes Michael Penn's "Bunker Hill" makes me cry and sometimes Rowlf and Sam the Eagle singing "Tit Willow" does.
And The Tour was a year ago. Officially over a year ago. Although it never quite ended. It feels like it's sort of going on forever, only the ripples are getting bigger. They're just at the edges of the Tavie Pond now and going out to sea. (Let me have my metaphors, you fittas!) The ripples are still there. That's why Linn lives in Mint Manor and sometimes I do, too, and we make trips to Toronto to see Kitana and why cheese fries and cigarette lighters and spiralling shapes and noisemakers and people with their feet in buckets make us all laugh.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:57 AM | shower me with attention
I just watched Almost Famous and I really loved it. I just did. It struck chords in me. The fandom thing. The glamour of Tour Life versus Real Life. I love Philip Seymour Hoffman. I love Frances McDormand. That Patrick Fugit boy was adorable. I even liked Kate Hudson a lot. Kate Hudson, the Golden Girl. I think this may be somehow hormonal, but then, I think that liking anything is all a matter of having the right hormones in the right bloodstream at the right time. That's all "striking a chord" means. That's why sometimes Michael Penn's "Bunker Hill" makes me cry and sometimes Rowlf and Sam the Eagle singing "Tit Willow" does.
And The Tour was a year ago. Officially over a year ago. Although it never quite ended. It feels like it's sort of going on forever, only the ripples are getting bigger. They're just at the edges of the Tavie Pond now and going out to sea. (Let me have my metaphors, you fittas!) The ripples are still there. That's why Linn lives in Mint Manor and sometimes I do, too, and we make trips to Toronto to see Kitana and why cheese fries and cigarette lighters and spiralling shapes and noisemakers and people with their feet in buckets make us all laugh.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:57 AM | shower me with attention
Sunday, April 15, 2001
I had a very nice Easter at Mint Manor. I will go home soon and read my 80 new AOL messages and plow through the newsgroups and ignore my homework until the last second.
The Easter Bunny gave me and Linn a big basket full of goodies for Easter and Linn and I went out today and coloured on the driveway of Mint Manor. We had just watched the 2000 Jesus Christ Superstar on PBS and I was feeling Jesus-y, so I drew a Glorious Superstar Self Portrait in pastel chalk. It was enormous. Linn decorated the walk with girly symbols... flowers and stars and eggs. It all looked quite magnificent.
And then.
We heard a voice bellowing from all around us. Frightened, Linn and I dropped our chalk and looked around wildly to see from whence the mysterious voice issued. Was it God?
It was The Landlady. She did not like the chalk (too... Puerto Rican? Golly!) and it must be eradicated immediately, or else the cat would have to go.
"Riley, lick it up!" Linn cried.
"Mew."
So Linn and I had to roll up our sleeves and pantlegs and, as the clouds gathered overhead and Sweet Gina, who had argued so fruitlessly for our art (STINKBUTT!!), gathered her laundry off the line, we fetched bucket after bucket of cruel icy water to wash the chalk away. Damp, chalky, singing Negro spirituals and songs from "Cinderella", we toiled like Easter slaves to erase any trace of magic that may have graced our dwelling.
As The Easter Bunny put it, "Your chalk art died so that Riley might live."
Mew.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:25 PM | shower me with attention
The Easter Bunny gave me and Linn a big basket full of goodies for Easter and Linn and I went out today and coloured on the driveway of Mint Manor. We had just watched the 2000 Jesus Christ Superstar on PBS and I was feeling Jesus-y, so I drew a Glorious Superstar Self Portrait in pastel chalk. It was enormous. Linn decorated the walk with girly symbols... flowers and stars and eggs. It all looked quite magnificent.
And then.
We heard a voice bellowing from all around us. Frightened, Linn and I dropped our chalk and looked around wildly to see from whence the mysterious voice issued. Was it God?
It was The Landlady. She did not like the chalk (too... Puerto Rican? Golly!) and it must be eradicated immediately, or else the cat would have to go.
"Riley, lick it up!" Linn cried.
"Mew."
So Linn and I had to roll up our sleeves and pantlegs and, as the clouds gathered overhead and Sweet Gina, who had argued so fruitlessly for our art (STINKBUTT!!), gathered her laundry off the line, we fetched bucket after bucket of cruel icy water to wash the chalk away. Damp, chalky, singing Negro spirituals and songs from "Cinderella", we toiled like Easter slaves to erase any trace of magic that may have graced our dwelling.
As The Easter Bunny put it, "Your chalk art died so that Riley might live."
Mew.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:25 PM | shower me with attention
Saturday, April 14, 2001
I need to go home.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
Blogger, suck my dick. Where were you when I needed you? (For that matter, where's my non-existent dick when I needed it?)
I hate you.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
I hate you.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, April 11, 2001
I scammed Gina into buying me a book of Logic Problems at the supermarket by promising I wouldn't do ANY until I've finished reading this South Africa book (something like 400 pages to go). Right after she went to bed I pounced on the logic problems. I am a naughty little monkey.
I think I live my life with the purpose of being as comfortable as possible at any given moment. This explains many of the problems I have getting along in the world, as well as some of my self-esteem issues. (I love me! I hate me! I love me! I hate me! I AM Mr Underwood.)
Poopy poopy doopy doopy do do da do ran ran.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:59 AM | shower me with attention
I think I live my life with the purpose of being as comfortable as possible at any given moment. This explains many of the problems I have getting along in the world, as well as some of my self-esteem issues. (I love me! I hate me! I love me! I hate me! I AM Mr Underwood.)
Poopy poopy doopy doopy do do da do ran ran.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:59 AM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, April 10, 2001
There, I peed. Now I can discuss my Friday in Hoboken. I have to read this entire book on South Africa and prepare a report on chapter 8 to present to my anthro class next week, but why do that when I can sit here at 1:30 am and discuss my Friday in Hoboken?
I met Goose and Matt and we went to Goose's house to watch Advice From a Caterpillar. It was very, very bad. I laughed a lot because I was with Goose and Matt and they make me laugh, for they are very funny. I tried to pretend I didn't feel not-cool enough to hang out with them. It worked pretty well except I kept saying the word "panties" a lot in a semi-British accent and laughing. I laughed until I got the hiccups. I'm sure that charmed them.
Goose lives in the coolest apartment I've ever seen. I can't describe it adequately; it's just too amazing.
They also made me watch Gilmore Girls which, I am chagrined to admit, was not awful. I'm still grappling with this fact and may have to see several more episodes to comprehend it more fully. (Purely research, you understand.)
---- and I have been trading emails that consist of nothing but haikus about mullets. This could not be more fun.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:34 AM | shower me with attention
I met Goose and Matt and we went to Goose's house to watch Advice From a Caterpillar. It was very, very bad. I laughed a lot because I was with Goose and Matt and they make me laugh, for they are very funny. I tried to pretend I didn't feel not-cool enough to hang out with them. It worked pretty well except I kept saying the word "panties" a lot in a semi-British accent and laughing. I laughed until I got the hiccups. I'm sure that charmed them.
Goose lives in the coolest apartment I've ever seen. I can't describe it adequately; it's just too amazing.
They also made me watch Gilmore Girls which, I am chagrined to admit, was not awful. I'm still grappling with this fact and may have to see several more episodes to comprehend it more fully. (Purely research, you understand.)
---- and I have been trading emails that consist of nothing but haikus about mullets. This could not be more fun.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:34 AM | shower me with attention
I'm spending Spring Break here at Mint Manor 'cause I have nothing better to do than soak up time with my goils. Linn is going home soon. She says she wants to go live in Canada. I say, "Noooooo". It's better than Sweden, but I will say "Noooooo" to any suggestion that involves Linn not living here, or in the city, or any rate close enough for me to be annoyed when she leaves fruit peels around.
Gina and Linn came home with a kite today and we took it to the park down the hill, but it was too crowded and not windy enough so we just walked around and enjoyed the outside. It was nice and sunny with a heaviness that foreshadowed the storm that came later on and made Gina quake like a little mouse. In the park Linn and I went down near the dirty river and threw stones in as the sun was setting. (She skipped stones, and I merely plunked stones.) I saw some glorious mud and couldn't resist squishing it around. It's a very dirty river and I'll probably die of some horrible disease, but it was such lovely mud. Gina said I might as well go rinse my hands off in the dirty river, so I carefully stepped over to do so, and my barette fell out of my hair and went "sploosh". Then it was gone and I had all this hair in my face that I didn't want to touch with my polluted hands. It was very comical. Linn and I walked home and I had my hair in my face the whole time and muddy hands and I felt like a wild beast. I have a whole lot of hair and it's hard to see when I can't push it back so sometimes I had to walk backwards, against the wind.
I think the most disturbing part of "It's Pat" is the dream-sequence where we see Dave, in black-and-white, as a lettuce-head. Disturbingly like a cabbage-head for my taste.
I have to pee but I don't want to get up.
Oh, Matt, if I had to pick between the three people you chose, there's no question that I'd choose to be Aimee. Besides the obvious beauty and genius, she's gotten to make out with Certain Someones I'm Known To Love, as well as being married to Michael Penn (a.k.a. The Dreamiest Dreamboat This Side of Dreamsville).
Don't worry, I won't pee on Gina's tufon.
Dave in Toronto in July? He should come with me to Sweden to visit Linn, instead. Whaddya think, should I pitch this idea to him? {g}
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:27 AM | shower me with attention
Gina and Linn came home with a kite today and we took it to the park down the hill, but it was too crowded and not windy enough so we just walked around and enjoyed the outside. It was nice and sunny with a heaviness that foreshadowed the storm that came later on and made Gina quake like a little mouse. In the park Linn and I went down near the dirty river and threw stones in as the sun was setting. (She skipped stones, and I merely plunked stones.) I saw some glorious mud and couldn't resist squishing it around. It's a very dirty river and I'll probably die of some horrible disease, but it was such lovely mud. Gina said I might as well go rinse my hands off in the dirty river, so I carefully stepped over to do so, and my barette fell out of my hair and went "sploosh". Then it was gone and I had all this hair in my face that I didn't want to touch with my polluted hands. It was very comical. Linn and I walked home and I had my hair in my face the whole time and muddy hands and I felt like a wild beast. I have a whole lot of hair and it's hard to see when I can't push it back so sometimes I had to walk backwards, against the wind.
I think the most disturbing part of "It's Pat" is the dream-sequence where we see Dave, in black-and-white, as a lettuce-head. Disturbingly like a cabbage-head for my taste.
I have to pee but I don't want to get up.
Oh, Matt, if I had to pick between the three people you chose, there's no question that I'd choose to be Aimee. Besides the obvious beauty and genius, she's gotten to make out with Certain Someones I'm Known To Love, as well as being married to Michael Penn (a.k.a. The Dreamiest Dreamboat This Side of Dreamsville).
Don't worry, I won't pee on Gina's tufon.
Dave in Toronto in July? He should come with me to Sweden to visit Linn, instead. Whaddya think, should I pitch this idea to him? {g}
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:27 AM | shower me with attention
1:15 am in Mint Manor. Had to turn off "It's Pat" because it got up to the part where I came in last time I was here. Can't help but watch the Dave and be jealous of the Julia.
Also jealous of Miss Linn who gets to see Hedwig in Toronto. Please Dear Scott let it last until I can get up there to see it. You damned Torontonians better just make it as popular as it can be!
In actuality, between Goose and Matt and I, I would not get to be James Dean. The only reason it came up is because I was wearing a pleather jacket and remarked, as we sat in a 50's-style burger joint, that I felt like James Dean. Actually, Goose is James Dean, Matt is Miss Wood and I am Sal Mineo. Or, possibly. Matt is James Dean and Goose is Miss Wood. In either case, I am still Sal Mineo and always shall be. (See any of my previous entires on My Life As A Fawner for further details.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:18 AM | shower me with attention
Also jealous of Miss Linn who gets to see Hedwig in Toronto. Please Dear Scott let it last until I can get up there to see it. You damned Torontonians better just make it as popular as it can be!
In actuality, between Goose and Matt and I, I would not get to be James Dean. The only reason it came up is because I was wearing a pleather jacket and remarked, as we sat in a 50's-style burger joint, that I felt like James Dean. Actually, Goose is James Dean, Matt is Miss Wood and I am Sal Mineo. Or, possibly. Matt is James Dean and Goose is Miss Wood. In either case, I am still Sal Mineo and always shall be. (See any of my previous entires on My Life As A Fawner for further details.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:18 AM | shower me with attention
Friday, April 06, 2001
If anyone can recommend me to a web site that has printable logic problems with grids, that fit onto one page, please pass it along (sparing the comments about what a big nerd I am for wanting such a thing). Or, hell, if you want to, just go ahead and order me a copy of that British logic problem magazine I used to love but can no longer find anywhere.
I'd do it myself, but I can't bear to buy something that ought to, in a just world, be downloadable and printable for free. :/
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:16 AM | shower me with attention
I'd do it myself, but I can't bear to buy something that ought to, in a just world, be downloadable and printable for free. :/
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:16 AM | shower me with attention
Thursday, April 05, 2001
Today I took the English midterm and went to see Memento with Tommy from sociology class. The movie was very complicated and hard-to-follow. It had Callum Keith Rennie in it briefly.
I am now on Spring Break. Most of Spring Break ought to be spent reading the South Africa book for my anthro class and preparing my report on it. We'll see if that's how it works out.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:43 PM | shower me with attention
I am now on Spring Break. Most of Spring Break ought to be spent reading the South Africa book for my anthro class and preparing my report on it. We'll see if that's how it works out.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:43 PM | shower me with attention
And one last thing on office politics, something with which I am completely unfamiliar outside of the sitcom world: boy, am I proud and admiring of how Gina and Linn openly challenge the authority figures they see doing wrong. It wouldn't even occur to either of them to accept it. This is something I know just from knowing them; they're loving and sweet and kind people, but just as much, they don't take no bullshit. It's just a fact about them, outside of any value judgements; just a part of their personalities. When something is wrong, they'll look someone in the face and simply say "no". Not in a questioning or a taunting way, but matter-of-factly. It's something that I hold in complete awe. I've never experienced office politics, and in some occasions where I've been pushed around in this thing we call life I've become quite Mean and Bitchy in defense of what I perceive to be my rights, but never in the way that I see those girls do it. It's not in my blood. It is my nature to doubt my own correctness, to passively allow authority to do what authority deems fit, to allow others to be trampled if it isn't my place to stop them. I can't think of any specific examples of this but it seems to me something that I am. This is part of, perhaps, what frightens me about joining the work force (for more than three days). I can duck and dodge, I can blend in and echo the opinions of whomever I'm with, losing myself in the process, all of which are important parts of the game, but I value strength and conviction so much more than that. Lions are so much more effective than chameleons.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:43 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:43 AM | shower me with attention
I fucking hate the fucking assholes at Linn and Gina's work. I hate them for the reasons that those two have outlined for me, but mainly, on a more personal level, I hate them because they make Gina angry and frustrated, and they give Linn another reason to want to go back to Sweden (besides it being her home and all).
For these reasons their actions and behaviours and attitudes are inexcusable in my eyes, and they deserve deep and lasting punishment.
And, to clarify, I certainly don't hate the nice people from their office; just the assholes.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:38 AM | shower me with attention
For these reasons their actions and behaviours and attitudes are inexcusable in my eyes, and they deserve deep and lasting punishment.
And, to clarify, I certainly don't hate the nice people from their office; just the assholes.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:38 AM | shower me with attention
I sure said the word "deep" or "deeply" a lot in the previous entry. I wonder what that's all about.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:32 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:32 AM | shower me with attention
I, myself, am very fond of Goose's lovely deep voice and lovely deep mannerisms, but I, too, hate public speaking and symapthize her deeply with the lengths she shall have to go to get the inevitable A.
I am deeply impressed by her and Matt's English Web Project. They are good at what they do. They're probably good at what they don't do. I learned from their web project, things I did not know. It makes me appreciate them more and more. Those wacky kids with their crazy hijinks sure put out some good stuff. This may be Mr Wodka talking, but I sure love those crazy goofballs.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:31 AM | shower me with attention
I am deeply impressed by her and Matt's English Web Project. They are good at what they do. They're probably good at what they don't do. I learned from their web project, things I did not know. It makes me appreciate them more and more. Those wacky kids with their crazy hijinks sure put out some good stuff. This may be Mr Wodka talking, but I sure love those crazy goofballs.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:31 AM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, April 04, 2001
Another note about Chet Baker: in the production notes under James O'Reilly, playwright, it lists:
TV Credits include Angela Anaconda with Mark McKinney.
This name sounded vaguely familiar to me, but none of us could quite place it. I wondered if it was perhaps that horrible cut-out animation show on the Fox Family Channel.
It is.
Why is Mark involved in that show? The voices and visual style are so terribly annoying.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:50 PM | shower me with attention
TV Credits include Angela Anaconda with Mark McKinney.
This name sounded vaguely familiar to me, but none of us could quite place it. I wondered if it was perhaps that horrible cut-out animation show on the Fox Family Channel.
It is.
Why is Mark involved in that show? The voices and visual style are so terribly annoying.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:50 PM | shower me with attention
Remember that anthro exam I thought I'd fail?
90/100.
I need to shut up now, seriously.
I have an English midterm tomorrow. (Will this term never end?) It's open book-- texts but no notes. I'm not really sure how to study for it. I think I've read everything I was supposed to read. What else is there?
Ah, me.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:58 PM | shower me with attention
90/100.
I need to shut up now, seriously.
I have an English midterm tomorrow. (Will this term never end?) It's open book-- texts but no notes. I'm not really sure how to study for it. I think I've read everything I was supposed to read. What else is there?
Ah, me.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:58 PM | shower me with attention
I just looked at my anthro syllabus and saw the massive amount of reading I have to catch up on. She assigned this enormous Edward Said reading for last Monday, which of course I missed. Why did I not think to look at the syllabus before leaving? I should have been reading homework in the car...
I slept through my art class yesterday. My professor is officially going to kill me.
But, for the important part:
Time After Time: The Chet Baker Project
A review by Octavia "Tavie" "I'm No Drama Critic" Phillips
On Sunday in Toronto, I went with a gaggle of goils to see the Chet Baker play directed by the delicious Jim Millan. (Being a Jim Millan fan, I am in the middle of reading the play he co-wrote, Serpent Kills, and am in very much a Jim Millan State of Mind lately, which meant a lot of listening to the Tour 2000 soundtrack on the way to Toronto.)
I'd read some reviews of the play, but basically had little idea what to expect going in. I know zilcho about jazz music and zippo about Chet Baker. That's not at all a bad way to be going into this play. The reviews I read had Jim describing its postmodernism "apologetically", but I'm pleased to report that the play itself was unapologetically postmodern. The structure was absolutely perfect for a play that basically dealt with the nature of fandom and the search for "truth"/validation in constructing a biography. Anyone who's spent any time being a Fan-with-a-capital-F of someone can see the appropriateness of the narrator speaking to the characters in Chet's life through dreams and imaginary conversations. The playwright was the narrator, and it was his voice that we identified with. Chet Baker's voice was his trumpet and his sweet, seductive singing style. Oh, that trumpet. If you know me you know I've never thought much about the trumpet at all beyond the fact that my sister's stinky ex-boyfriend played one back in junior high. (Oh, that Nelson. He was such a turd.) Chet Baker: the anti-Nelson. Soulful. Sexy. Aloof. Mysterious. Homina...
Where was I? Oh, I was quite taken with the supporting cast. The actress in particular, one Philippa Domville, absolutely blew my mind. She played all the women in the play, and her skill at shrugging the straps off her shoulders and instantly becoming someone completely different was breathtaking to behold.
The whole thing had me entranced. As Linn fell in love with Chet Baker, I'll admit here that I rather fell in love with James O'Reilly, the playwright-narrator. This was probably not his intention while writing, but he was so perfect, so engaging in his portrayal of a variation of himself... I was completely sucked in. Whaddyagonna do? Shrug your shoulders and move on.
So, my general assessment is: it was everything theatre should be. Funny (not at all surprising), moving (pleasantly surprising), musical (ahhh) and completely new to my ears and eyes. I give it five golden thumbstars.
One more thing: it is my new dream to have a bed that hovers high in the air as if supported by nothing.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:52 PM | shower me with attention
I slept through my art class yesterday. My professor is officially going to kill me.
But, for the important part:
Time After Time: The Chet Baker Project
A review by Octavia "Tavie" "I'm No Drama Critic" Phillips
On Sunday in Toronto, I went with a gaggle of goils to see the Chet Baker play directed by the delicious Jim Millan. (Being a Jim Millan fan, I am in the middle of reading the play he co-wrote, Serpent Kills, and am in very much a Jim Millan State of Mind lately, which meant a lot of listening to the Tour 2000 soundtrack on the way to Toronto.)
I'd read some reviews of the play, but basically had little idea what to expect going in. I know zilcho about jazz music and zippo about Chet Baker. That's not at all a bad way to be going into this play. The reviews I read had Jim describing its postmodernism "apologetically", but I'm pleased to report that the play itself was unapologetically postmodern. The structure was absolutely perfect for a play that basically dealt with the nature of fandom and the search for "truth"/validation in constructing a biography. Anyone who's spent any time being a Fan-with-a-capital-F of someone can see the appropriateness of the narrator speaking to the characters in Chet's life through dreams and imaginary conversations. The playwright was the narrator, and it was his voice that we identified with. Chet Baker's voice was his trumpet and his sweet, seductive singing style. Oh, that trumpet. If you know me you know I've never thought much about the trumpet at all beyond the fact that my sister's stinky ex-boyfriend played one back in junior high. (Oh, that Nelson. He was such a turd.) Chet Baker: the anti-Nelson. Soulful. Sexy. Aloof. Mysterious. Homina...
Where was I? Oh, I was quite taken with the supporting cast. The actress in particular, one Philippa Domville, absolutely blew my mind. She played all the women in the play, and her skill at shrugging the straps off her shoulders and instantly becoming someone completely different was breathtaking to behold.
The whole thing had me entranced. As Linn fell in love with Chet Baker, I'll admit here that I rather fell in love with James O'Reilly, the playwright-narrator. This was probably not his intention while writing, but he was so perfect, so engaging in his portrayal of a variation of himself... I was completely sucked in. Whaddyagonna do? Shrug your shoulders and move on.
So, my general assessment is: it was everything theatre should be. Funny (not at all surprising), moving (pleasantly surprising), musical (ahhh) and completely new to my ears and eyes. I give it five golden thumbstars.
One more thing: it is my new dream to have a bed that hovers high in the air as if supported by nothing.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:52 PM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, April 03, 2001
Re: Toronto:
That was lovely.
Re: Steph's blog, anyone who wants to read it can email her for a password.
More later.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
That was lovely.
Re: Steph's blog, anyone who wants to read it can email her for a password.
More later.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
