Tavie blogs i like:
amy
dave foley
mark mckinney
e.mail
archive
andrew
anne marie
barb carr
barb
beth
boing boing
buddy cole
camille
caroline
cartoon brew
craig northey
crissy/alternate link
dave
disney blog
francis
polly mcaffable
gina
goose
jamie
james kochalka
Jersey City DFA
jordan
jim hill
kirsten
kithblog
liz
matt k/word du jour
mike t
passive agressive notes
patton oswalt
post secret
rule the web
rynn
sarah
sarah c
serra
soft communication
tea rose
terry
toothpaste for dinner
tilly
My Flickr account
Subscribe in a reader
my 'currently-reading' shelf:
i want:
wish list
i've read:
goodreads list
Saturday, June 29, 2002
On television right now: a show called Småstjärnorna, featuring small children dressed up as pop stars lip-synching to the popular songs of the day. Disturbing enough, you say, but there's more: right now three little girls are lip-synching a song by a group called Cleopatra. The three little girls are white, and are in complete, nearly eye-fooling blackface, with long extension-wigs.
You just don't see a lot of blackface on American tv.
Sweden, eh?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:41 PM | shower me with attention
You just don't see a lot of blackface on American tv.
Sweden, eh?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:41 PM | shower me with attention
Yesterday we picked up Kitana at the train station and came back here for a little 90210. Then the sightseeing stroll around Ye Olde Stockholm-- very picturesque, very glad Kitana has a good camera-- and dinner in a Chinese restaurant. That was odd enough. Swedish-Chinese menus. Lots of MSG. Mmmmmm. Then back to Linnvärld for cucumbers and caviar and Desperately Seeking Susan. What an exceedingly silly movie. We woke up this morning to-- no, really-- Lionel Ritchie's Hello on the radio. Hello.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:04 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:04 AM | shower me with attention
Thursday, June 27, 2002
We've left Linn's parents' house and are back now at her apartment. Kitana comes tomorrow. We're making taco salad, which makes me miss Gina. Taco salad is The Official Favourite Meal of Mint Manor. I wonder if Riley misses me at all.
The last two days were very lazy ones. I spent most of yesterday on Linn's parents' couch watching tv with Swedish subtitles (Psycho II and Father of the Bride II, for some reason-- I'm a little embarrassed at what the Swedish people must think of what appears to them to be popular American cinema... we're apparently sequel-crazy) and feeling slightly shy around Linn's sisters, both very friendly, vivacious, extraordinarily talented girls. (Linn snuck out to be with Oscar, who is leaving for a month in Italy tomorrow and was apparently too shy to meet me. ME.) Today Linn took me down to her mother's garden plot and we picked currants. Oh, currants. Beautiful currants. The most beautiful berry-- nay, fruit-- nay, plant-- I have ever seen. One of the outstanding memories of Amsterdam for me will be walking down a street with Matt and Kitana and Linn, sharing a fruit salad containing these tart little jewels. I'd never seen a currant before (I've probably tasted currant jelly and wine) and all I wanted to do was twine a stalk of them in my hair. And they just grow right there in the garden! What the! We picked them right off the stalk and I ate them right there. I want to eat them, wear them, paint them. I want to be one. They're exquisite. They delight almost all of my senses at the same time. They're very tart with just enough of a sweet edge to keep me thirsting for more of them. Why, why, why had I never encountered them before? They're food of faeries. I could go on and on about them. I won't.
News from home is that Kirsten's new laptop has arrived. This happens to coincide, apparently, with the demise of our iMac. Apparently something shorted out and it won't start up. I think it may be unfixable. That means I've lost a hell of a lot of files, not to mention a working computer at home. I've been told that Kirsten is very willing to share her laptop with me and even registered me as a co-user, which is a wonderful thing for her to do, but I won't be taking advantage of this piece of generosity. God knows I had to promise Tante Joan enough times that I understood that it is to be Kirsten's Computer and Not Mine (which I found more than a little insulting, by the by, as if I were just laying in wait to snatch it from my sister's hands, a greedy child unable to control myself-- but I promised, I promised until I thought my eyes may well roll out of my head). And, frankly, we have enough boundary issues when it comes to personal property, Kirsten and I. She needs something that is just for her use, and I need not to be treating all of her property as an extension of my own. (I also need not to be reminded that I'm on Borrowed Time when, say, a chat that I'm in runs a little long or an eBay auction is about to close when I'm in the middle of an email. I fully believe that Kirsten's generosity is purely intentioned and very real-- I bitch and moan but she has always been very willing to share, much more than I-- but I also know that we are both human and the temptation to play the Whose Computer Is It Anyway? card would be too great for anyone to bear in the last few seconds of a hot eBay countdown.)
Dinner is ready and I've gotten that out of my system. I hope that when Kirsten reads this entry she derives the appreciation underlying my bitterness, which is not directed at her but merely at that cold bitch, Circumstance.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:14 PM | shower me with attention
The last two days were very lazy ones. I spent most of yesterday on Linn's parents' couch watching tv with Swedish subtitles (Psycho II and Father of the Bride II, for some reason-- I'm a little embarrassed at what the Swedish people must think of what appears to them to be popular American cinema... we're apparently sequel-crazy) and feeling slightly shy around Linn's sisters, both very friendly, vivacious, extraordinarily talented girls. (Linn snuck out to be with Oscar, who is leaving for a month in Italy tomorrow and was apparently too shy to meet me. ME.) Today Linn took me down to her mother's garden plot and we picked currants. Oh, currants. Beautiful currants. The most beautiful berry-- nay, fruit-- nay, plant-- I have ever seen. One of the outstanding memories of Amsterdam for me will be walking down a street with Matt and Kitana and Linn, sharing a fruit salad containing these tart little jewels. I'd never seen a currant before (I've probably tasted currant jelly and wine) and all I wanted to do was twine a stalk of them in my hair. And they just grow right there in the garden! What the! We picked them right off the stalk and I ate them right there. I want to eat them, wear them, paint them. I want to be one. They're exquisite. They delight almost all of my senses at the same time. They're very tart with just enough of a sweet edge to keep me thirsting for more of them. Why, why, why had I never encountered them before? They're food of faeries. I could go on and on about them. I won't.
News from home is that Kirsten's new laptop has arrived. This happens to coincide, apparently, with the demise of our iMac. Apparently something shorted out and it won't start up. I think it may be unfixable. That means I've lost a hell of a lot of files, not to mention a working computer at home. I've been told that Kirsten is very willing to share her laptop with me and even registered me as a co-user, which is a wonderful thing for her to do, but I won't be taking advantage of this piece of generosity. God knows I had to promise Tante Joan enough times that I understood that it is to be Kirsten's Computer and Not Mine (which I found more than a little insulting, by the by, as if I were just laying in wait to snatch it from my sister's hands, a greedy child unable to control myself-- but I promised, I promised until I thought my eyes may well roll out of my head). And, frankly, we have enough boundary issues when it comes to personal property, Kirsten and I. She needs something that is just for her use, and I need not to be treating all of her property as an extension of my own. (I also need not to be reminded that I'm on Borrowed Time when, say, a chat that I'm in runs a little long or an eBay auction is about to close when I'm in the middle of an email. I fully believe that Kirsten's generosity is purely intentioned and very real-- I bitch and moan but she has always been very willing to share, much more than I-- but I also know that we are both human and the temptation to play the Whose Computer Is It Anyway? card would be too great for anyone to bear in the last few seconds of a hot eBay countdown.)
Dinner is ready and I've gotten that out of my system. I hope that when Kirsten reads this entry she derives the appreciation underlying my bitterness, which is not directed at her but merely at that cold bitch, Circumstance.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:14 PM | shower me with attention
Someone is trying to scare me by posting Pennywise in my guestbook below.
It worked.
If you say "silver eyes like coins" I will scream so loudly.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:17 AM | shower me with attention
It worked.
If you say "silver eyes like coins" I will scream so loudly.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:17 AM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
I need to share a line from Seymour: An Introduction that made me tear up a little on the plane ride back from Amsterdam. I should probably talk more about the trip itself, but duckling got so many of the highlights down so well that I fear I'd just be repeating her, so I'm going to... stop being so self-aware and just post the damn quote.
...our sister Boo Boo. Seymour was wild about her. Which isn't saying a great deal, since he was wild about everybody in the family and most people outside it.
Earlier on, I had underlined,
But from watching the guests for some three hours, from grinning at them, from, I think, loving them, Seymour--without asking any questions first-- brought very nearly all the guests, one or two at a time, and without any mistakes, their own true coats...
Seymour loves everyone.
So it's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
I think I have a very simple mind and I think I don't care right now.
...and I want to add that it doesn't invalidate my love, this fact that I'm dancing around. Just because I appear to love everyone doesn't mean that my reasons for loving you (most people reading this) are somehow cheap or false or showy. I'm incredibly intelligent when it comes to love and I know very well that everyone I love is simply the most spectacular person in the universe. Each one, the one and only. My mind accepts this doublethink, and yours should too, for my mind is not as keen as yours.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:07 AM | shower me with attention
...our sister Boo Boo. Seymour was wild about her. Which isn't saying a great deal, since he was wild about everybody in the family and most people outside it.
Earlier on, I had underlined,
But from watching the guests for some three hours, from grinning at them, from, I think, loving them, Seymour--without asking any questions first-- brought very nearly all the guests, one or two at a time, and without any mistakes, their own true coats...
Seymour loves everyone.
So it's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
I think I have a very simple mind and I think I don't care right now.
...and I want to add that it doesn't invalidate my love, this fact that I'm dancing around. Just because I appear to love everyone doesn't mean that my reasons for loving you (most people reading this) are somehow cheap or false or showy. I'm incredibly intelligent when it comes to love and I know very well that everyone I love is simply the most spectacular person in the universe. Each one, the one and only. My mind accepts this doublethink, and yours should too, for my mind is not as keen as yours.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:07 AM | shower me with attention
I've lost over 20 pounds since April. I'm throwing a gigantic party for me inside my head. You're all invited. Bring crudite and frukt.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:11 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:11 AM | shower me with attention
Oh, god. Happy Mark Day, darlings. He's 43 today and I'm at Linn's parents' house today. I'll sing for him as I take my shower. Songs from Hedwig in a gravelly Tom Waits voice, I think. As fitting a tribute as I can muster currently. Currantly. (See below.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:24 AM | shower me with attention
Why did no one tell me before about currants?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:19 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:24 AM | shower me with attention
Why did no one tell me before about currants?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:19 AM | shower me with attention
It was my face reflected in a window, superimposed over the belly of a prostitute, framed by her chain of rhinestones, smiling the wholesome and close-lipped smile of the tourist. Mental snapshot. Everything else is just sweet smoke, wooden tulips, mosquito bites, cheese and belly laughs.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:14 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:14 AM | shower me with attention
Hello, is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart for I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you
Slug!
Oh, we're back from Amsterdam. Well, darling boy is still there, but darling girl is back in Berlin and other darling girl downstairs watching Anastasia in Swedish.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:10 AM | shower me with attention
'Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart for I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you
Slug!
Oh, we're back from Amsterdam. Well, darling boy is still there, but darling girl is back in Berlin and other darling girl downstairs watching Anastasia in Swedish.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:10 AM | shower me with attention
