tavie.com

This picture is so sexy. Dave is, like, leaning in Mark's lap. It's so cuddly.

Just saying.

(Hee, guess what I'm workin' on.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:01 PM | shower me with attention

It's okay, you know. It'll all be okay.

I'm at Mint Manor, as promised. Watered Jeff (the tree), as promised. Fed Riley, as promised. Now I'm gently surfing the web, with hot tea, and singing along with Aimee, with my new sexy-deep-sore-throat voice. Had an emotional moment when I listened to Cheryl's mp3 of "alt.fan.us", the song she wrote about Goilness. But it's okay. It's okay, I have tea.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:45 PM | shower me with attention

I feel lonesome.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:00 AM | shower me with attention

We have a Christmas tree. Rather, I have a Christmas tree. No one else has claimed it, and only my mother, who purchased it, has acknowledged it.

It is about half the size of the trees we usually get. It is dry and all flat on one side. It is a Charlie Brown tree.

I decorated it by myself, as usual. I put the rattiest ornaments in the places of highest honour. I sang to the tree as I decorated,

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree
Once again it's just you and me.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree
But I have not forsaken thee...

I emphasized the it's just you and me in a pathetic attempt to elicit attention from someone, but they were either out with friends or engrossed in the tv or in the back, typing on old typewriters.

It is a very ugly tree. It exemplifies the phrase going through the motions.

No Christmas magic this year. It's left me. I'm not an elf this year. I am a sagging, pasty adult with a sore throat and a lot of credit card debt.

Does anyone want to come with me to Mint Manor tomorrow to watch the cat and water the tree until Monday?

No?

Okay.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:59 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, December 21, 2001

Teh-heh.

No, really, I had absolutely no real work today. And, like I said, Boing Boing being my new god, the choice was obvious.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:29 PM | shower me with attention

I sympathize, angel-darling-pumpkin-dollface-honeybear-kitten-love. How does one not cry during Midnight Radio?

(Hey, fix your archive links.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:05 PM | shower me with attention

So, as per my conversation yesterday, I spent all morning working on a cartoony drawing of Affable Computer Guy Arnold wrestling with a server. I just handed it over to Alex and it is a rousing success; she is very excited about her tee shirts.

Today was the funnest day ever at this job. I'm still getting $[mumblemumble]/hour, but today I got $[mumblemumble]/hour for just drawing crap. That was awesome.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:34 PM | shower me with attention

Funniest person ever.

Yeah, yeah, I'm posting a lot, but at least it's in little gulps at the moment. And I'm doing it for me, suckas, not you.

You've always been good at passing on the magic.

So, I think I'm getting sick. I hope I'm getting sick. In my family, if you're sick, everyone's automatically a million times nicer to you. There's something twisted about that. I shouldn't hope I'm getting sick. But I do. Yes, soothe my hot brow, make me tea, cease calling me names for a few fevered hours...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:15 AM | shower me with attention

Last night, came home and screamed with laughter at the "Flea Land" thing.

Lots of screaming with laughter last night, actually. I could see the Tolkein geeks staring at me as they filed out past me in the theatre, but I could not help it.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:10 AM | shower me with attention

I, too, am obsessed with Lush.

I love how much she posts.

My throat is scratchy.

Don't ask me about yesterday.

Is it Christmas yet? Is it over yet?

I miss Kitana desperately already.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:09 AM | shower me with attention

I'm sorry, I still don't know what you should do.

Give him the book?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:17 AM | shower me with attention

I loved it.

Gayest movie ever.

Okay. I came into this movie without having read the book, with only vague notions of the characters and almost no idea whatsoever of the plot. A few vague memories of images from the Bakshi cartoon, seen years and years ago, was all the preparation I had going in.

So, please-- well, first of all: I loved it. I absolutely loved it. I went in unencumbered by expectations, and left delighted. It was gorgeous and thrilling and it made me cry and it made me laugh and was full of beautiful people and scenery and if there was too little character development it was only because it was so crowded with suspenseful, nail-biting plot.

Second of all: Gonna be spoilers. Don't read any more if'n you, like me, don't know anything about the story.

Now.

Did Tolkein have issues with women, or is it Peter Jackson, or what? There was so much castration imagery, and so many frightening fiery vaginas, and the only two women were a boy in a dress and a sinister mother-type shrouded in mystery ("mystery" being represented cinematically by very pretty silver light.)

What was with the trees--giant, phallic TREES, eh? nudge, nudge-- being pushed down-- PUSHED DOWN, eh? nudge, nudge-- by men so threatened by the idea of a finger penetrating the orifice of a ring and unleashing all the powers of evil? Come on, Jackson even gave us a nice little jokey clue right near the beginning with a broken carrot gag. What "evil" is being represented, do you think?

What was with the flashes of evil, seen through Gandalf's mind, being represented by blatant vaginal imagery? They looked like Georgia O'Keefe paintings. Oh my holy good lord, every time one of those came on I started laughing. Ask Kitana, she kept nudging me. Big giant fiery vaginas, and then close-up of frightened old man, clutching his crook!

By the way, if you know someone who doesn't know what's going to happen, don't tell them. I had no idea SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER that Gandalf was going to plunge into the flaming pit, and I was so shocked that my eyes just gushed full of tears. Just like that, woosh. It was incredible. Shocked. Shocked.

And, okay, what? No women in Rivendell? Okay, boys, let's all band together and fly off into the woods to do manly things like penetrate sticky monsters with our big, frightening swords! Oh-ho-ho!

Okay, I'm being a silly ass, but I was just so tickled by it all. I can't believe it ended there. I will DIE if I don't find out what happens next-- and I'm NOT reading the book and risking missing another rush of emotion like the one I got with Gandalf. (How could he? How could he???)

Damn, that movie ruled. Can't wait for the sequel. How could they end it with Huck and Jim-- er, sorry, I mean Bill and Matthew-- no, wait, wrong again-- with Frodo and Sam floating down the river towards dooooooom? (Gina thoroughly undid me at the end by leaning over and whispering, "Fixing for another homoerotic adventure on the Big Muddy!")

I'm done now, gotta go to bed.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:09 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, December 20, 2001

I love this post.

You know you doin' all right.

I'm leaving now. Wish me luck.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:37 PM | shower me with attention

I like this song, I honestly do, it's the only other decent song in "The Secret Garden", in my opinion (though not as good as Winter's on the Wing), but I really wish that little girl wouldn't talk. It really ruins it for me. It makes me feel all pukey. Honest, I need to be able to edit MP3's so I can cut out all that "Oh Dickon, I want it all to be wick!" bullshit.

(Dickon cocks an eyebrow at little sour Tavie.
"Why are you in such a bad temper?"
Little sour Tavie sulks.
"Christmas is dead, Dickon. The trees are all gone and no one cares and I don't think it's going to be fun ever again."
Dickon tilts his head, a sparkle in his eyes.
"Now, did ye take a real close look at anythin'? Tavie, the strongest hol'days will fair thrive on bein' neglected, if the eggnog is spiked enough."
"Spiked? I've heard Ben say 'spiked'."
"When a thing is spiked, it has some rum... or brandy.... around it....")

Wow, that won't be funny to anyone but me, and perhaps Steve (but I flatter myself.)

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, shut that kid up.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:11 PM | shower me with attention

The day feels so much longer when there's no actual work to do.

I've been clicking the same links over and over and over...

I can't look at his gorgeousness anymore today. I can't study. No one's updating every five seconds like I need them to. No one's emailing me. No one's giving me work to do. Let me leave. LET ME LEAVE. Let me take the test and have it be over.

Come a mild day
come a warm rain
come a snowdrop, a comin' up
Come a lily
come a lilac...
Blah blah blah blaaaaaaaah...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:57 PM | shower me with attention

Although, may I add, fuck the nominations for original song, because I know some songs were written specifically written for the movie, and all of them are towering mountain-heights better than any song that's nominated.

Diane Warren. Vomitous.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:05 PM | shower me with attention

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH, JCM!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:02 PM | shower me with attention

Of all the drawings I've ever done of my sister-- and she's the person I've drawn more than anyone-- this one remains my favourite, because of the completely unrealistic and hilarious steroid-enhanced man-neck.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:24 PM | shower me with attention

New favourite blog referral.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:22 PM | shower me with attention

Report from Baby's First Office Christmas Party:

Hey, that was actually kind of fun. Good food, minimal awkward conversation. Sat with my plate with the small group of nerds that I'm most familiar with, giggled, munched, conversed with Alex about her Super-Secret Undercover Primatologist operations. (She volunteers at the Central Park Zoo on weekends and gets to feed all the various animals she works with, and the silver marmoset is going to have twins!) And then she said to the group at large, "Who can draw?" and turned to me and said, "You can draw, I've seen your doodles!"

They noticed my doodles. I am to laugh!

And she pulled me aside and commissioned me to draw a picture of Arnold wrestling with a server, his hair frazzled and his eyes wild. I said I don't know if it's within my scope but it sure sounds fun to give it a try, but he'll wonder why I'm eyeing him all the time. ("The temp is harrassing me!")

So, yeah, that went pretty well. Now I have to... to...

study.

Sigh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:03 PM | shower me with attention

Mom says she'll get a tree tonight while I'm at Mint Manor. Then I'll come home tomorrow night after work and decorate it, and enjoy it, and go over early Saturday to feed Riley, and stay through the weekend.

This is good. Christmas may yet be saved.

Anyway. Last night as I was coming home from work, I resolved that I would go out myself and get a Christmas tree. I made the mistake of calling up to see if my dad wanted to come down and help me, and he gave me a whole whiny spiel about not having the money ("But I'm going to pay for it," I said) and how mom should be involed ("But she's not home yet and I have no time") and there was no space for it ("I can clear one"). But he broke me and I came upstairs full of self-pity.

I was soon swept with new resolve and began clearing a space for a tree. Kirsten berated me and insulted me and screamed at me the whole time. I'm not kidding; she's very against my getting a tree. ("You leave for months at a time," she exagerrated, "want to dump this tree on us and then leave us with broken ornaments and pine needles!") I ignored her and marched out, determined to get the tree myself. ("You're a fucking idiot!" she screamed after me. Fucking idiots need Christmas, too, I thought.)

I went down to where the Boy Scouts usually are. It was desolate. Then I saw the sign, which informed me that they sold trees every day of the week except Wednesday.

I came home, crushed, and ignored my studying. It felt like I would have to choose between Christmas and seeing Kitana. Luckily, it doesn't turn out that way, but last night was a very rough night.

{John Astin} But I'm feeling much better now. {/John Astin}

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:58 AM | shower me with attention

Oh my holy god, I'm going to have to socialize with people I don't know.

Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpme...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:34 AM | shower me with attention

My first link to someone I didn't already know first.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:31 AM | shower me with attention

My day was brightened considerably by the email from Atlanta Steve:

OK, my German friend was at the party last night and I made him translate AND
spell out what they say at the end of Random Number Generation.

He says it's a dialect that he's heard before, but one he's not very
familiar with...but he seemed certain he knew the answer to my query.

Ok, so translation:
Yitzhak, what the fuck(damn) are you doing.

He says they're literally saying "what the damn are you doing" but that in
German that is the conversational equivalent of "what the fuck are you
doing"

As far as the literal words that are said, he typed out for me:

Yitzhak, was machst Du denn verdammt noch mal.

So, if you want to impress your friends by barking along with the CD, that's
what you've gotta learn to say.

Delicious.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:20 AM | shower me with attention

Yes, yes, without my quota of online tests, I would go mad.

Take the Corporate Mascot Test at Willaston's Lounge!

The Eighties Pop Act Test deems me:

15% Eighties Pop Act

You are The Clash: You so wanted to be cool in the eighties, you wore the right clothes, had the right name, even wore your hair the right way, but you couldn't do it. Go watch reruns of the Rick Dees late night show.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:59 AM | shower me with attention

This is my definite new response of choice to compliments.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:53 AM | shower me with attention

Sometimes when I turn off of Broadway onto Wall Street in the mornings I'll walk by a man who will be inexplicably cawing like a bird. He always provides a second of amusement.

Today, there was a guy with a video camera filming the various street vendors and Salvation Army Santas on that corner, and as I walked by them I saw and heard the bird guy approaching. The camera guy spun around to catch him, and the vendor he had been talking to shouted, "It's the BIRD MAN! HEY, BIRD MAN! YO! BIRD MAN!" and pumped his fist into the air.

I have never seen that guy talk to the Bird Man before. Funny how friendly people will become when there's a camera on them. Made me giggle.

Also, I would like to note that I am always greatly appreciative of the foppish pose of the George Washington statue out in front of Federal Hall. La-dee-dah.

Finally, I began to understand yesterday, really feel, why people hate Christmas. I'd never understood it before. I think I'm a grown-up now. It makes me sick. It's a whole Christmas tree saga that I won't go into now, but, I feel beaten down by this holiday. I walked past the glittering trees on Wall Street and tried to love them again, but I don't think I do.

Today is my feminism final. I find myself not at all nervous, because I don't at all care. If I pass, great. If I fail, just three more credits and a little bit more money down the tube couldn't possibly break me any more than I'm already broken.

Also today at noon is the office Holiday Party. I brought brownies. I am wearing a little cotton-ball snowman, hanging from a thread on my button, that my friend Tea Rose sent in a Christmas card one year. Woo, festive.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:39 AM | shower me with attention

Hi, Djin!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:32 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, December 19, 2001

I say be gone, ye howling gales
be off, ye frosty morns
Oh, ye solid streams begin to thaw
Melt ye waterfalls,
part, ye frozen winter walls
See, see now it's starting.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:30 PM | shower me with attention

If anthropologie.com doesn't see fit to send me what I paid for over a month ago, I'd better get my goddamn money back.

What the fuck is taking them so long?

Fucking Christmas.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:29 PM | shower me with attention

You are a guitar god, my friend.

At least one of the minor deities.

But what do I know. I'm impressed by people who can nod their heads on the beat.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:07 PM | shower me with attention

I love flash and fast computers.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:56 PM | shower me with attention

Okay, I can't listen to this song at work anymore. Or in public, I think.

Would someone like to please hold me, please?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:49 PM | shower me with attention

The Mistress of Bullshit triumps again!
Essay #2, finito.

The question: What is equality?
The thesis: This question is bullshit.

Raaaah! Raaaah!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:55 PM | shower me with attention

Now, my fondness for iambic pentameter comes directly from Miss Pardilla. I remember the exact day it began. It was her birthday. (I don't remember the exact day of that, because she was always so secretive about it, so let's call it Gessellinday.) We were IMing, as we were wont to do. I don't remember what led up to it, but I remember her charging me to go, spit-spot, hurry off and write her a Shakespearean sonnet. That, she added helpfully, means it has to be in iambic penatmeter. She sent me to a helpful webpage to explain the form of a Shakespearean sonnet, and what exactly iambic pentameter was.

So I went, and done it, and posted it to the newsgroup.
I remember it from memory.

You thought I wouldn't tell, but you were wrong.
A birthday is important, this I know
and isn't something passed without a song
or opportunity for me to crow,

"O Jen, o darling Jen, o silly thing!
Let not the bushel this day hide your light!
I know you'd not leave me alone to sing--
my harmony alone would not sound right!"

And up the steps of treefort, squawking proud-
and tune-lessly as eaglets in their nest,
I'd be so helpless 'fore the cringing crowd,
you'd give their aching ears a needed rest,

By drowning out my sorry birthday tune
with voice so fair, 'twould make Le Poupee swoon.

And I just checked it with Google, and I'm right.

Good times.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:34 PM | shower me with attention

HOLY SHIT!

Everything seems a lot brighter now.

It's hard to explain, because you don't know Jen Pardilla, but she's one of the most creative people I've ever known. I still dream about her. She was my hero. I know I tend to idolize people, but really. Honestly. She was always a favourite. I still talk about those Pardillas. Ask anyone.

And, surprise, surprise: she's a good blogger.

Thank you, Lords of Renewed Friendship and Fresh Reading Material! I offer you this week-old NYT Sunday magazine I found in my desk drawer as a tribute to your greatness!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:13 PM | shower me with attention

And now, because I don't feel like working yet, or going to lunch (read "studying"), or doing much of anything at the moment, here is an expanded list of Courses Available at Tavie U.:

Ululating Like Yoko - Because language is a core requirement. Professor Ade is the best in this department. You'll be fluent in no time.
Belching on Cue - Another science requirement. I will teach you everything you need to know.
How to Grow Your Hair 101 - I wrote my doctoral thesis on this one.
Advanced Time-Wasting - An example of which you are reading right now. Are you not impressed?

Please come to our school. Please o please o please. We will provide snacks and head-rubs.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:05 PM | shower me with attention

I am the Grand Mistress of writing essays that don't say anything, but use enough big words to look like they do.

One down, one to go.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:42 PM | shower me with attention

And Kitana is leaving on Friday. Did I mention that? Can anyone understand how bummed out this is making me feel? I don't want to study or write essays or update server inventories or do anything but mope. But I can't. I have to actually do all these things I don't want to do.

I am biting my lip so hard right now, I didn't even realize it until it started to pierce.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:43 AM | shower me with attention

My mom just called me to see how it's going and she mentioned that the F.B.I. left a card under our door asking a resident of our household (they didn't specify who) to please call them because they need our assistance in some sort of background investigation for something.

Hunh? Is this one of those, "Have you or anyone you known ever met anyone of Middle Eastern descent?" or "Have you ever seen movies about the Middle East?" or "Have you ever eaten a fig?" kind of things? How could someone in our household possibly help the F.B.I.?

Sheesh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:39 AM | shower me with attention

This is the weirdest Christmas ever.

I don't think we're getting a tree at home. ("Home", but for consistency's sake, I'll call my real home which is actually Gina's house, Mint Manor, and I'll call that Roosevelt Island apartment where my stuff is and where my parents and sister and cats and turtle are that I have to live during the week because it's close to school, home.)

I don't think we're getting a tree. It's mighty late. They keep saying we are, but I don't think we are, especially since I'm always the one that actually has to get out and do it and I don't have any goddamn time this year.

This is much more upsetting than I've let on. No one seems to think it make a difference, because my aunt and uncle have a tree (and we always spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at their house in Westchester), but it makes quite a bit of difference. Those are their ornaments. That tree decorates their house. What about our ornaments? What about our Nutcracker? Does Christmas just not come to our house anymore because it's such an unholy dump? It feels like it's not freaking Christmas at all now. Or it feels like Christmas is over, it happened last weekend when we decorated Jeff (Gina's tree) with Mike and sick bunny.

If we don't get a tree, Christmas didn't freaking come this year. The end. This is fucking bogus. I have a goddamn final tomorrow, I have to write two essays and read a huge load of crap three times, and go see Lord of the Rings, and get my No Credit for math, and go feed Riley over the weekend-- when the hell am I going to have time to go down to the boy scouts, pick out and lug home and set up and decorate a tree all by myself?

We have never not had a tree.

Fucking Christmas.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:22 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, December 18, 2001

Oh, I forgot:

Yes, you should apply to Columbia. Although you won't end up going there (to my great distress), you should apply anyway. Do it for Nussbaum and Wu.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:37 PM | shower me with attention

I hate me. I just wrote this really long post and then I hit the wrong button and made it all go away. I HATE ME.

I don't care, I'm going to try and remember EVERYTHING I said.

1. Mike, honey. I wish I knew why parents can be so evil. I don't know much about most things, but I can certainly tell you one fact: I am so glad that Cheryl tugged you into our little world, and that you feel happy and comfortable there with us, and I can't wait to give you a big hug. I hope both my Rhode Island pumpkins feel better soon. I feel very secure knowing that you have each other to take care of.

2. Speaking of honeys, I love that you call everyone that, and I don't think it at all p/matronizing. And, also, I always sang "Incey-Wincey", but Kit sang "Itsy-Bitsy", so perhaps it's regional?

3. You found the Phillips twins here (bingo to ya!); Erica is the little cricket in the Brownie uniform on the left.

4. Beautiful new layout, although I know I'll miss the Gorey...

5. I'm sorry I keep talking about the Hedwig DVD, I won't discuss the documentary until you've seen it. (Except to say that I love that there's a whole section of it devoted to JCM's fans, and how much JCM appreciates his fans.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:05 PM | shower me with attention

Today I was very, very bad and called in "sick" from work. But Kitana made me get up and I have been studying. In fact, just a short while ago we were both sitting in the living room: I was on the tufon reading Feminist Morality and Kitana was on the Lay-Z-Boy reading the Marquis De Sade. Tee-hee. Tee-hee.

And now, by popular demand, a short listing of the courses to be offered at Tavie U.

Belting Like Ethel Merman 101 - Learn how to scream obnoxiously in public. This will be co-taught by a Very Fine Pardilla.
Singing Like Julie 101 - BECOME Julie Andrews! You don't need to be English, or polyp-ed, or thin-- you just need to learn how to contort your face properly to squeeze out the right inflections. Let Professor Tavie show you how.
Creative Loafing - Advanced level. Departmental permission required.
Loud Whistling 101 - Fulfills core science requirements.
Swamp Talk 101 - Professor Ade will help you fulfill your language requirements by teaching you how to talk like Pogo. What the ever-lovin' blue-eyed...
Methods and Materials for Advanced Fandom Participation - Departmental permission required.
Introduction to Canadian Studies - We were lucky enough to steal a highly respected professor from U of T for this one. Classes fill up quickly, register today.
Teenage Genius Seminar - Dr. Frank and Dr. Funk will be instructing this 3-week intensive-study seminar.

That's just a small sampling.

I have much more to respond to, but it will have to wait until after I study some more. Kitana just gave me another Warning.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:11 PM | shower me with attention

Gina told Kitana that if I wasn't in bed in five minutes, she should kick my ass.

Ten minutes ago, Kitana warned me. I continued blithely with my web-doodly-do-ing, at which point Kitana looked down at her hands and remarked, "It's been so long since I've used these fists."

Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch she is killing me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:47 AM | shower me with attention

The address for Erica's blog has changed. It is no longer at merica.blogspot.com. It is now part of the Goil Wide Web.

I'm greedy that way.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:45 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, December 17, 2001

I do not like "home". "Home" is not home. This is my home. That other place is just some dump where the majority of my belongings gather dust.

I stuck with the game plan and went home to gather up my Feminism materials, and when I walked in, the Succubus was wearing one of my shirts. This one, specifically. Okay, you can't really see it, but it belonged to my friend's mom in the 70's and I love it. So, anyhow, I walk in and Little Geisha is wearing it with some belt and wooly sleeves from some skinny-person store, and I ask her to take it off. The clothes thing is An Issue with us. (I can't wear her clothes, but she's always taking mine without asking, leaving me to constantly do laundry for things I haven't even gotten a chance to wear.) Meanwhile, I'm tearing our dump apart looking for a book I need to study for my final, and not finding it.

Long story short (too late!), I ended up in hysterics, crying in the dust on my bedroom floor, bookless, gouge marks in my arms, sister out the door still in my shirt, and late for my study-date-sleepover-refuge at Mint Manor.

I was listening to 'Til Tuesday on the PATH train on the way over, and arrived at my stop as the song "J for Jules" was playing. I went downstairs and crossed the parking lot towards the car containing waiting goils, planning to ask them to play the CD in the car so I could finish listening to the song.

I open the car door, and what do you think is playing?

They're listening to that very CD, and they're listening to "J for Jules".

At the exact same moment. Same track. That I was listening to. And planning to ask them to play.

I felt better then.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:49 PM | shower me with attention

A prospective professor asks:

Just how co-ed are we?

We are so co-ed, that the entire student body, boys and girls alike, sleep together in a puppy pile on one air-mattress in the Main Dormitory.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:01 PM | shower me with attention

Oh, wow. Just found this on my sister's webspace. Somewhere in that picture are me, my sister, Erica, Steph of the new kitten, and Danny, the boy I had a crush on in grades 3 through 5. (Furthest right, middle row.) To this day I have dreams where Danny inexplicably becomes Dave, or vice-versa.

Can you find me? Bet you can't.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:46 PM | shower me with attention

I saw a very disturbing, sad, but ultimately heartwarming film the other night with Kitana on the Sundance Channel the other night. It's called Chuck and Buck. I recommend it. One of the better stalker movies.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:05 PM | shower me with attention

My favourite part of the Hedwig DVD Director's Commentary is during "Origin of Love", when they show this one magnificent close-up of Hedwig's face, and you can hear JCM start to say, "God, I'm beautiful" but then stop himself.

I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it.

So beautiful.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:58 PM | shower me with attention

Oh boy. I have crossed the line over into Too Fat to Breathe.

I would laugh and point at myself, had I the wind.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:43 PM | shower me with attention

I am opening a private college. Please submit your applications to Tavie University. E-mail applications only. Please submit any information you feel will be relevant to the application process. Classes start Jan. 1. On-campus housing is available.

We are very prestigious; you want to go to us. We will teach you many interesting things, make you a well-rounded individual, give you a diploma with a sparkly sticker on it upon the completion of all your Tavie credits, and provide you with none of the tools you will need to cope in our ever-changing, fast-paced world.

We are co-ed.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:30 PM | shower me with attention

I got an email from a PARDILLA last night.

A PARDILLA.

*JEN* PARDILLA.

That may mean nothing to you, but to me, it is an explosion of fond nostalgia.

It is, as Steamboat Wincey says, a Festivus Miracle.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:23 PM | shower me with attention

I like to name things. Do you like to name things?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:22 PM | shower me with attention

I am glad Goose is taking a Tavie day today.

(O.E.D. "Tavie day" - n. A day taken off due to sleep-related issues; a day taken off when one is too tired to get up in the morning; see "Bueller, Ferris, Wannabes".)

People need to blog more. Every five minutes or so. I am going all loopy with nothing new to read. Also, Blogger needs to behave.

I need to go get some lunch.

Think poetically,
act pathetically.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:08 PM | shower me with attention

Boing Boing is god, Part II: A really good Sorting Hat Test.

I got Gryffindor.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:09 AM | shower me with attention

There is a game plan for the week. Coach and Other Coach helped form it, to assuage my panic so that I could sleep without worrying that I would not see my sweet Kitana again after I left Mint Manor for work this morning.

The game plan is as follows:

Today, after work, I go home. I get my books and my notes. I immediately get back on the subway to the PATH to Mint Manor. Under Kitana's strict and watchful supervision, Gina and I study for our respective finals for two hours. Then we watch The Hedwig documentary as a reward.

Tomorrow, after work, I meet my pumpkin at the UCB Theatre to obey erin's commands to see whatstheirface before they get really famous and we want to kick ourselves. Then, I go home and sleep. Gina stays home and studies for her final.

Wednesday, I go to work and come home for writing my essays and cramming. Gina takes her final. Kitana stays home and cures world hunger.

Thursday, I go to work a jittery mess. I go to school at 5. I take my final. Afterwards, I meet both goils for a night of something-or-other involving Gina's work friends. I possibly get drunk and/or see The Lord of the Rings. I go home with the goils for one last night with my Kitling.

Friday night, I return to an empty Mint Manor to feed Riley and water Jeff, the Christmas tree. Kitana is gone, home to her parents. Gina is gone, to Florida with her parents. Jeff and I sit alone, contemplating our dry needles and split ends and short-lived glories.

This is the plan.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:20 AM | shower me with attention

Which Rocky character are you?

c/o, you guessed it, Steph.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:04 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, December 16, 2001

A cozy Mint Manor weekend; a cozy, lazy Mint Manor day. Tree bought; chili simmering; goils staring me down in attempt to wrest control of the computer.

Shall I succumb?

I shall.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:56 PM | shower me with attention

There's things to say, but I can't say them at the moment, pre-Gleemonex and pre-java. So I'll just ramble.

The only proper way to watch Hedwig is cuddled on the tufon surrounded by goils. And at the end, to turn on the subtitles (for mood rather than necessity) and have a rousing sing-along.

I think the ending and "Midnight Radio" will always make me weep, or want to weep, but last night was the most intense because it's all mixed up in a confused but emotionally vivid jumble of Miriam Shor's Yitzhak character, and her expressive eyes, and finally getting to be who she wants, and shine, and of burning paper, and exploding buildings and worlds changing, and the symbolic clashing dichtomies (twin buildings, one without its other half, crumbling/ twin personae, one searching for its other half, crushing tomatoes), and yesterday they took the last of the facade down at Ground Zero. And that hurt me. And more associations piled on top of it-- memories of meeting friends at the World Trade Center, and singing showtunes at dusk as we wander around the area, and looking for books about colleges and women's studies at the Border's which is now a blackened pile of rubble, and
the automatist's undoing
the whole world starts unscrewing
as time collapses and space warps
You see decay and ruin
I tell you "No, no no no"
You make such an exquisite corpse"...

and even further associations, of listening to Tear Me Down on the Tour, in the Sex Van, and singing at the top of our lungs, and the tour aftermath, and all of your friends together in the same place and nothing ever being the same again.

But mostly, Miriam Shor's eyes, and burning paper.

I'm so glad I have my goils.
You know you're doin' all right...
So hold on to each other
you gotta hold on tonight.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:03 PM | shower me with attention

Holy Mothra crap!!!!

To gloat, or cackle, or jump around with glee, or...????

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:35 PM | shower me with attention