tavie.com

Although I need to be thinking about what poet I'm going to choose for my final paper (suggestions always appreciated; this one is ten pages and has to be based on a single volume of poetry, published in the author's lifetime--i.e. not an edited compilation-- and doesn't has to be a poet on the syllabus, although it has to be someone who published before WWII--wow, this was a long parenthetical), this week I am mostly going to knit, watch digital cable, wash Gina's dishes, and burn CDs. Oh, yes. I am going to burn CDs. (Thanks for the suggestions, by the by, and what a clever way of getting me to listen to Goose Music!)

By the way, anyone making me a mixtape, you know how I'm notorious for not actually listening to them for years and years? I've discovered the trick for getting me to listen right away. (Rather, Ade has.) The secret: don't provide a track listing. Apparently, I love surprises. Evidently, if I don't know what will be on it, I won't be able to resist.

Anyway. So, it's going to be a lovely, lazy spring break.

I'm also eating healthier and trying hard not to lie awake hating myself instead of sleeping. So this should be a healthy week, capped by a little mind-blowing comedy by my heroes. There's the news.

Scattered remains:

Gina let me go into a Borders today and buy a new book by Margaret Atwood even though I'm in the middle of three other books. She's bad.

We have been doing almost nothing for the past few days but watching DVDs of the first season of Queer as Folk. I am... oh god. This is like confession. I already confessed to my mother superior over the phone tonight, but I really need to come clean publicly on this:

I...

Idon'thateHalSparksanymore.

In... in fact... geez, this is painful...

He's FUCKING adorable. He's a PUPPY DOG. I KNOW he fucked up Talk Soup and I won't ever forgive him, but... geez louise, does he have to be so cute?

Shit. I'm such a loser. Whatever. Whatthefuckever. I like the cute gay boys in their cute gay wonderland. I like the cute lesbians with their slightly dull lesbian storylines. I like the imaginary world where everyone is pretty and life is a big bowl of candy waiting to be unwrapped. I have my problems with the show, sure I do. It's a little smug and can be painfully obvious with the dialogue, but I'm drawn into precisely its over-the-topness. The opening credits are godawful and they have a really fucked-up idea of "ugly"-- Ted? Huh? The ugly one? 34 is old? What?-- and Brian is a fucking asshole, and Lindsay and Michael and Justin are losers for loving him, but I also understand the appeal. Yes, let me talk about this show as if it was real life. I can't believe how much time I'm spending on this topic. Did I mention we've been watching for two days? I can't stop. And I'm starting to understand what my sister sees in the guy-on-guy stuff. Which is the most shocking part, of course. Well, but they're fucking hot.

Um. Anyway. So. Got that out of my system, right? Right? No, three more DVDs to go. Not even close. Shhhhhit.

So, I was thinking about this game my dad and I used to play when I was little. My dad has this amazing ear for and he taught himself the piano when he was a kid and can play anything after hearing it once, that kind of deal. So when I was little we used to play together and it was our thing, and we had a game where one of us would stand with our back turned, and the other one would play a note on the piano, and then the first one would turn around and pick out the note, the object being to get it on as close to the first try as possible.

There's no point to this story. I just miss that game.

What else? Oh. When I was ten I wanted to be a Keaton-- you know, from Family Ties-- so bad. Now I'm watching first season episodes every night on Nick at Nite and I'm remembering that and it's a little disturbing, but also kinda sweet. Kinda sweet.

(Tina Yothers is actually a fifty year old midget. Thank you, Weston.)

I guess I'll go to bed now.

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