"A WOMAN OF FINER SENSIBILITIES"
2002-03-06 - 5:38 p.m.
Dearest fans and enemies alike,
To update you all upon my affairs of late, I must be perfectly honest and confess that I have indulged in a good deal of shopping that is hardly supported by my rapidly diminishing funds. However, passion overrules reason, sadly, and the dewy glow bestowed upons one's countenance after having purchased a particularly charming frock far outweighs more practical needs. A woman of finer sensibilities might not be susceptible to such illicit murmurings from plunging V-necks, but, alas, I am a weak woman and of loose moral standards in most regards, save for those concerning -- well, you all know to which acts I allude. I shall speak of it no more.
I have enjoyed dessert at Pastis on W. 4th and suffered a most insupportable attack of lady bugs in salads at Sophie's Cosmic Cafe. Why should one suffer such indignities on the pretense that a diner is full of bohemian charm and is therefore not subject to basic health standards -- or proper manners, for that matter? Perhaps I shall follow this up with a missive concerning the severe lack of appropriate behaviour from retaurant employees at some later date.
You must forgive me, but I plead a headache and will therefore end my entry thus. I trust you all are well and shall return to regale you with tales of intrigue involving the Prince of Wales, the Czarina of all the Russias, and a certain tea incident in the parlor of Bram Stoker's sitting room.
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"HATS WITHOUT SUNSHINE"
ReplyDelete2002-03-30 - 2:39 p.m.
I have a new hat. It is dainty and charming. It makes me feel as though I should be strolling along the Riviera, smiling to either side and admiring my tan. Then Rock Hudson will come up and profess his love to me. We will embrace for one heady moment -- then he'll run off with the cabin boy. That is all.
2002-03-14 - 6:13 p.m.
ReplyDeleteFrom LA BELLE OTERO, "MY DAYS AND NIGHTS":
Well, I say, December's here already and January, February and March are waiting for us and I'm one of those plants which can't stand the cold of winter. Would you like to see my legs? Then they say, Come along in. And indoors it's so snug and warm that one immediately wants to strip to one's chemise and stay like that. A fortnight later one's so completely forgotten the draughty street-corners up our way that the mere sight of a wet overcoat is enough to astonish us.
2002-03-14 - 6:17 p.m.
ReplyDeleteThe flowers bow their heads, tender green spines bent in sympathy. They are supposed to comfort me with their scent and softness, but only mimic the stoop of my shoulders as I, too, am weighed down by the rain. I do not want to step outside anymore -- I'll bury myself beneath frayed covers and the buzz of white noise instead.
"BLACK, BLACK, BLACK AND ALWAYS"
ReplyDelete2002-03-23 - 10:30 p.m.
A former e-mail signature:
"Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must cover Canada. A little light is filtering from the water flowers. Their leaves do not wish us to hurry: They are round and flat and full of dark advice. Cold worlds shake from the oar. The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes. A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand; Stars open among the lilies. Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens? This is the silence of astounded souls."
Sylvia Plath
"AND FREUD WOULD HAVE A FIELD DAY"
ReplyDelete2002-03-23 - 10:52 p.m.
Did you know that the Eiffel Tower was originally to be a giant guillotine to commemorate 100 years of the French revolution? Bloodthirsty French, indeed. Also, it was originally painted crimson. I love architecture. Most people do. It goes beyond awe, to THAT STIRRING, you know the one. There's a sensuality about architecture, a perfect math and sex and stillness to it --
"Ridicule ... only ever kills the weak and the false. The tower has continued to scribe the ever-changing sky with its gold-tipped silhouette and to hold its lacework calculus erect like a desire ..."
-- Raymond Duchamp-Villon
2002-03-25 - 11:32 a.m. (NOTE: An early post about my mild OCD)
ReplyDeleteThere's a wrongness to these objects. Slightly out of place or disturbingly cold. Sometimes they are so frozen and utterly devoid of feeling that I can't bear to breathe the same air that they occupy.
Imagine my surprise upon reading Sartre's "Nausea" some time ago and finding a passage that so thoroughly described my fear:
"Objects should not TOUCH because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts.
"Now I see: I recall better what I felt the other day at the seashore when I held the pebble. It was a sort of sweetish sickness. How unpleasant it was! It came from the stone, I'm sure of it, it passed from the stone to my hand. Yes, that's it, that's just it -- a sort of nausea in the hands."
2002-03-27 - 1:07 p.m.
ReplyDeleteAdult Swim sayings:
Adult arms and adult legs working with vigorous purpose. Lungs expanding at the apex of each stroke.
Man, it's good to laugh. With those expulsions of breath and contracting of facial muscles? Awesome.
"HELPFUL HINTS"
ReplyDelete2002-03-31 - 12:34 p.m.
When I am cold, I do something that makes me feel smart, because I like to bask in the warmth of my firing neurons.
"MEOW, MEIN FUHRER!"
ReplyDelete2002-05-08 - 11:48 a.m.
So, the question is, if a person reacts badly to the idea of mouse porn, what exactly does that say about them?
(Sing) "Hey there, Hitler Cat, flyin' through the sky so fancy-free --"
Hitler Cat: "I'm HITLER CAT!"
(All together sing) "It's Hitler Cat!"
Hitler cat was born at the turn of the century to a poor turnip farmer and his seamstress wife ...
Um, that's all I have to say for now.