this, um... this might not be very interesting.
i don't have much of
anything to say today.
like that'll stop me.
i do understand that arafat did some rather unpleasant things in his day. maybe i was sad about something else and projected it onto him. i could say he's a man who needs to be taken in his own context and that it's impossible for me to understand what growing up in that context can do to a person, but the evangelical american midwest is its own context, as well, and i don't understand it, but i'd never make excuses for it. let's say i made an emotionally informed judgment and leave it at that.
i've just watched "inside the actor's studio" with johnny depp and i'm thinking two things:
1. it should be "actors'," shouldn't it? perhaps it is and i don't remember. if it is, excellent. if it is not, someone should get on that this instant.
2. johnny depp is a truly lovely young man. i generally adhere to the advice given me as a young girl by Voice of the Beehive, which is that little girls shouldn't treat little boys they happen to meet like little gods, but i think that in his case that simply doesn't apply. i hope his wife makes ritualistic sacrifices in his honor at least twice a month.
and since we're nearly on the subject, you can buy the director's cut of ed wood's "necromania" from fleshbot. probably from amazon, too. i think you should, but we all know i'm a bit biased towards freakish filth.
i'm starving. i'm not kidding, people, we're talking ravenous. these past few days i can not get enough food in me. i had to get out of bed at 11:30 last night for a snack because i was too hungry to fall asleep, and it's not like i'd denied myself during the day. an hour ago i ate an entire pound of spinach, half a pound of tofu and a bell pepper, and right now i feel like it's been weeks since my last meal. i don't know what to do. is there something i can eat that will expand in my stomach? besides gorilla glue, i mean, because that stuff is sort of dangerous. flour? caulk? i'm so distraught by my unappeasable insides i'd maybe eat some sponge if i didn't know where all of my sponges had been.
so here's cirque du soleil. i know about cirque du soleil because when i was in high school my best friend was psychotically obsessed with the tour guitarist from nine inch nails. his name was robin finck, and at some point in the 1990s robin finck stopped touring with trent reznor and joined the cirque. my crazy beautiful friend momentarily considered dropping out of school and finding a job as a stagehand before discovering that mr. finck no longer wore dredlocks or a bondage collar while performing, at which time her interest began to wane. you know what they say about love which alters when it alteration finds. or some such guff. whatever, we were seventeen. i would have run away from home for twiggy ramirez if an opportunity had presented itself. i'd still beat someone up for one of his dresses. never mind that. i occasionally scan one of the perpetual offerings of cirque du soleil on bravo for a glimpse of robin, but i haven't found him yet. maybe she was wrong about it the whole time.
people make mistakes. it's all good.
sleep SO well, chickens. really, do. and don't catch my cold, it's a bitch.
anything to say today.
like that'll stop me.
i do understand that arafat did some rather unpleasant things in his day. maybe i was sad about something else and projected it onto him. i could say he's a man who needs to be taken in his own context and that it's impossible for me to understand what growing up in that context can do to a person, but the evangelical american midwest is its own context, as well, and i don't understand it, but i'd never make excuses for it. let's say i made an emotionally informed judgment and leave it at that.
i've just watched "inside the actor's studio" with johnny depp and i'm thinking two things:
1. it should be "actors'," shouldn't it? perhaps it is and i don't remember. if it is, excellent. if it is not, someone should get on that this instant.
2. johnny depp is a truly lovely young man. i generally adhere to the advice given me as a young girl by Voice of the Beehive, which is that little girls shouldn't treat little boys they happen to meet like little gods, but i think that in his case that simply doesn't apply. i hope his wife makes ritualistic sacrifices in his honor at least twice a month.
and since we're nearly on the subject, you can buy the director's cut of ed wood's "necromania" from fleshbot. probably from amazon, too. i think you should, but we all know i'm a bit biased towards freakish filth.
i'm starving. i'm not kidding, people, we're talking ravenous. these past few days i can not get enough food in me. i had to get out of bed at 11:30 last night for a snack because i was too hungry to fall asleep, and it's not like i'd denied myself during the day. an hour ago i ate an entire pound of spinach, half a pound of tofu and a bell pepper, and right now i feel like it's been weeks since my last meal. i don't know what to do. is there something i can eat that will expand in my stomach? besides gorilla glue, i mean, because that stuff is sort of dangerous. flour? caulk? i'm so distraught by my unappeasable insides i'd maybe eat some sponge if i didn't know where all of my sponges had been.
so here's cirque du soleil. i know about cirque du soleil because when i was in high school my best friend was psychotically obsessed with the tour guitarist from nine inch nails. his name was robin finck, and at some point in the 1990s robin finck stopped touring with trent reznor and joined the cirque. my crazy beautiful friend momentarily considered dropping out of school and finding a job as a stagehand before discovering that mr. finck no longer wore dredlocks or a bondage collar while performing, at which time her interest began to wane. you know what they say about love which alters when it alteration finds. or some such guff. whatever, we were seventeen. i would have run away from home for twiggy ramirez if an opportunity had presented itself. i'd still beat someone up for one of his dresses. never mind that. i occasionally scan one of the perpetual offerings of cirque du soleil on bravo for a glimpse of robin, but i haven't found him yet. maybe she was wrong about it the whole time.
people make mistakes. it's all good.
sleep SO well, chickens. really, do. and don't catch my cold, it's a bitch.
Labels: confessional, tv
posted by juniper pearl @ 8:08 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home