tavie.com

And the band played on
As the helicopters whirred
Drunk on the lawn in a nuclear dawn
My senses finally blurred.

Ha ha, never show people your iPod. They'll see all those showtunes and Chipmunks and Moxy Fruvous and Barenaked Ladies songs (pre-Stunt, no one in Hipsville knows the difference, bah) and they'll feel very sorry for you. Hell, even I feel sorry for me.

Where are you, my music mentor? Teach me the ways of the music snob, for I would know it, and know it very well. I still won't know a good song when I hear one, but I'll know what the common wisdom is.

Paradox: the more time my sister and I spend together (and it's a lot, it's a fucking lot), the more I like her. She's a cool chickie, people. I think it will be even better when we no longer live together...

She made me go see Team America, which was funny when there were parody songs and vomit, but went on too long.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:24 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Hey, it's not as if I'm not thinking about what's happening in the world at large. I'm all kinds of furious, horrified, frightened and stupefied by the re-election of a man who's possibly been the worst president in the history of my country (although, fuckin' Jackson man, fuckin' Jackson...)

It's just that my perspective is all out of whack. Shit happens and the small stuff looks huge because it's right in your face, right between your eyes. It's shock, but nothing's broken. Ten minutes ago I was walking barefoot across the room to get a nail clipper out of my purse and I slammed my little toe into the piano. I couldn't breathe for half a minute, it hurt so much. But a minute later the pain was gone and nothing was broken. It was just shock. That's all my financial problems are, shock. As for the country, it's a bigger problem, and my tendencies towards escapism come in nicely at that point. I don't let it all stay out, though. I can't help but read the free newspaper in the mornings-- not in depth, but just tastes of what's happening-- and I watch The Daily Show and listen to Air America and hear people talk and sorta know what's going on and I'm scared. 'Cause stuff might end up being broken for a real long time, and it's not just shock.

What am I saying? I'm vacillating between willful ignorance and frightened anger. Nothing's good so I join Roland and his quest for the Dark Tower. I'm afraid because this monster of a book is more than halfway done now, and what will I do then? Go back to Prydain, maybe.

Escape, escape. Today at work we were talking about how The Big Lebowski is possibly the second greatest movie ever. (No one agreed on the first; everyone has their own first.) So it pleased me when I saw that Patton had referenced The Big Lebowski on his blog today.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:42 PM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Scroll down to the middle of the page or so to read Patton Oswalt and David Cross fighting over the keyboard last night as it began to go to hell.

In case you wanted to join me in my dream-world of denial where it's okay to laugh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:57 PM | shower me with attention

The funny thing was, I saw Bluebeard this morning. I hadn't seen him in months; he's this dad who lives in my building who's always taking his little daughter to the bus stop, and he looks like a completely run-of-the-mill working dad in dress and demeanor, save for the fact that his goatee is dyed a bright electric blue. (The rest of his hair is black.) I used to consider seeing him good luck, for some reason. Part of my made-up superstitious collection of obsessive compulsions, no doubt.

Who knew it would turn out to be one of the worst days of my entire life? Not Bluebeard, I hope; I hope he didn't know that.

I certainly hadn't expected this to be the least of my worries today.

I don't mean to be cryptic, but this blog isn't the place for me to get into specifics. Crampy the Wonder Dwarf is taking a bath and getting into bed with the ka-tet from The Dark Tower and forgetting that the rest of the world exists.

I love you, family and friends. I'm much luckier than I'm giving myself credit for right now.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:17 PM | shower me with attention

It never rains but it pours. I'm so royally fucked right now, financially, that I feel like I could throw up. It came on like a tsunami, but out of nowhere, and knocked me flat. I can't even be upset about the outcome of the presidential election, because this new shit so very in my face that I can't breathe.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:59 PM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

I can't stop cursing at everything. I wish I had Tourette's as an excuse but I'm really just a foul-mouthed, low-class, trashy sort of broad who ain't never gonna be a lady.

I wish I could stop swearing at work though. Maybe I'll start a swear jar. Save some money. Because one of these days someone who's not as nice as J-Dawg is gonna be standing at the fax while I'm muttering swill at the computer, and then there's gonna be trouble. For me.

Anyway, the coverage is already making me crazy. I've retired, having left instructions to be woken up if someone wins.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:16 PM | shower me with attention

Sometimes I wonder if, when people hear that I've lost 30 pounds on Atkins, they think, "Jesus God, what did you look like before?"

I know it's not good to wonder these things.

I wonder if some day I won't hate myself.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:42 PM | shower me with attention

I'm a mildly pissed-off voter. This is the second election in a row they've not been able to find my name in their book, and I've had to vote on a paper stand-by ballot. The lovely lady at my polling place advised me to register again, and that it might take more than a year for me to show up in the book. (I hope to be living elsewhere by then, but neverthemind.)

Argh. I wanted to vote in the booth. I used to vote in the booth, in almost every primary and election since I turned 18, but not for the last two times. I don't know where they put me, but it's not fair.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:13 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, November 01, 2004

Oh yeah: I bought myself a jew's harp (they call it "jaw harp" but they's crazy, it's a jew's harp!) and I'm going to teach myself to play it properly. Line up now to audition for Spazzy Spazzerson's All Spaz Band! I have openings for washboard player, jug blower, banjo picker...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:50 PM | shower me with attention

The most exciting thing that happened all weekend was that I shunned Atkins for exactly 24 hours and consumed ginger cookies, Sally Lunn bread, biscuits, muffins, and cornmeal coating.

24 hours later I am back and I do not regret it. Unless I end up gaining all my weight back, in which case I will regret it. But since I don't want that to happen, it won't. I like to get what I want.

The second most exciting thing was that during a lecture tour called "The Other Side", as a woman was urging us to visit a website about present-day slavery around the world, a couple behind her walked by with their great Dane, who was dressed as Superman. With a cape and everything: Superdog!

There were tons of dogs in Williamsburg. Everyone had their dogs out for Halloween weekend. I hear the weather in NY was pretty great; the weather in Virginia was fucking spectacular. The colours of the leaves blazed even in the dark. We celebrated our parents' 34th anniversary at the Kings' Arms tavern, where I had my peanut soup.

I got the following letter:

Dear Tavie,

Please stop staring at me.

Love,
The Moon

We left at 5 am this morning with moon and stars still bright and got into work just, ah, 15 minutes late or so.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:41 PM | shower me with attention