Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
Th' only album that ever gets me to really work is Mozart's Coronation Mass... I should have figured it out by now. Even those Nose-ring Nietzsche Swedes weren't the same. Ahhhh... so, now, fortified with six Maria biscuits and Marmite, four packages of instant maple oatmeal in last year's Reality cup (the one with Krazy and Ignatz on it) and hot tap water... OOOH... Kyrie eLEIson! Kyrie eLEIson! I LOVE IT SO BAD. Awright. Ten hours left. At the end of it, lab paper done. Yes.
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(6)
02:54:44 AM,Monday 10 December 2001
Ma, this was the song I was telling you about: Alma, by Tom Lehrer.
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(11)
11:29:03 PM,Sunday 9 December 2001
ANNETTE: Cook some potatoes in bouillon, cut them in slices as for an ordinary salad, and while they are still warm season them with salt, pepper, and a very good fruity olive oil, vinegar...
HENRI: Tarragon?
ANNETTE: Orleans is better, but that is not of great importance. What is important is a half glass of white wine, Chateau Yquem if it is possible. A great deal of herbs finely chopped. At the same time, cook very large mussels in a court-bouillon with a stalk of celery; drain them well and add them to the potatoes.
HENRI: Less mussels than potatoes?
ANNETTE: A third less. One should taste the mussels little by little. One should not foretaste them, nor should they obtrude. When the salad is finished, lightly turned, cover it with round slices of truffles; a real calotte for the connoisseur.
HENRI: And cooked in champagne?
ANNETTE: That goes without saying. All this, two hours before dinner, so that the salad is very cold when it is served.
HENRI: One could surround the salad with ice.
ANNETTE: No, no, no. It must not be roughly treated; it is very delicate anda ll its flavours need to be quietly combined.
Why are there so many novels about unrequited love from the perspective of the loving-one, but none from the perspective of the loved-and-not-loving back? Oh, and Katherine, you better get your bloglet novel primed and printed and posted in a hurry, 'cause I wanna read it BAD! Remind me to ask Moira if she'd take care of Rapelje for Christmas. Been listening to _Der Rosenkavalier_... guh. It's screechy and oozy and Viennese, and I like it. I turned down a waltz last night, 'cause I hate the Blue Danube, and I was in Birkenstocks, and I had to walk Sara to her car. I hope it didn't offend the offerer of it.
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(15)
04:44:17 PM,Sunday 9 December 2001
Gig's in the bag. Sucks, though, when you got brilliant latin solos running through your mind and your fingertips half an hour *after* you played moderately lame ones at the dance. Oh well.
Now I will write: "Your pedal extremities are truly colossal" on my door's board and try to do my Shroedinger.
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(7)
03:10:22 AM,Sunday 9 December 2001
And lots of wavy hair like Liberace!
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(3)
02:18:15 AM,Saturday 8 December 2001
Ok, y'know how I hate mint, right? I do. Not the plant. The plant's good; it tastes all fresh and mellow and juicy. The flavor. It gives me no pleasure. Then *why* did I just eat SIX Listerine Cool Mint Gel Strips in the last ten minutes?! GAAAAAA!
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(13)
02:53:47 PM,Friday 7 December 2001
D: "If she comes home for Christmas, and she's cross-eyed, then I'll know she's in love."
M: "Bob, she *is* cross-eyed."
D: "No, I mean _really_ cross-eyed; then it means she's in love."
M: "Well, then she's been in love all her life."
D: "Yeah, our little cross-eyed bear -- Oh! And especially if there's a little bit of drool coming out the side of her mouth?"
M: "Always!"
D: "And her tongue sticks out and her leg quivers!"
M: "Yeah, haven't you seen her play the violin?"
-- my parents, on my strabismus and my sex life.
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(3)
01:08:52 AM,Friday 7 December 2001
"The funny thing about these kids is, they're all tuned to the same TOTALLY INSANE frequency that nobody else can ever make any sense of!" -- my mother, on the blogledytes (specifically on the tritone/perfect-fourth conversations)
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(11)
12:46:33 AM,Friday 7 December 2001
I just sabotaged the hallway with a hundred un-popping bubbles.
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03:49:51 AM,Thursday 6 December 2001
Man, I've been resisting the urge to take any of those dumb-ass trendy internet fake-o tests, let alone post 'em. I slipped, sure, but for Hieronymous Bosch's sake. Now I'm all primrose path of dumb-ass net test dallianced up. But at least I'm the first one on my blogmass to have one. Here. And I didn't even find it a cool way, like trolling for it on obscure search engines such as Opentext or Pay-4-Inclusion. I got it offa Not My Desk, which most of y'all probably read anyway. But humph. And I had to cheatingly tweak it six times before I came up as Bubonic Plague.
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(4)
03:15:25 AM,Thursday 6 December 2001
A perfect day. We sang "And the Glory, the Glory of the Lord" in practica. I had mushroom, sausage, and pepperoni pizza for lunch, in a hospital cafeteria -- just like my 9th birthday party, except then we had macaroni. There was a false fire alarm at the doctor's office. AND OH MAN OH MAN --
I saw a baby delivered. C-section. His name's Joshua Joe. He had a silver caul over his head, and when he was born, his dad stroked his cheek. I saw all the stitching and I got to wear the blue crinkly clothes... it was much closer than the other time I saw a C-section. That one was clear across the room. This time they let me lift up the mother's feet to put her on the gurney. And the doctor was a lady doctor named Dr. Vigil (pronounced Vee-heel). OH MAN OH MAN!!!!! It was everything.
The rest of the day was real good too.
!!
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(1)
03:03:10 AM,Thursday 6 December 2001
Y'know the sorta disheartening thing about having a blog? It's knowing that anyone of your acquaintance could type your name into a search engine and find pages of you acting differently than you always hold yourself to act around them. I mean, you know what a drooling schlub I am, and I'm proud of it -- but around my relatives and certain tender-hearted friends, I conceal my baser instincts and act uniformly tasteful and upright. But if they discover that I'm _not_ uniformly tasteful and upright... what does that do to them? There's people who don't like crassness and lewdity, and think the worse of people who indulge in them. I mean, before the web, you could be a clean-cut young gentleman around your maiden aunts and a sordid ho around your friends and the one would never interfere with the other. Now, if I wanna even let on to certain people that I *have* an internet persona, they'll discover that it's not the same one as I've always had in their presence. It's not that I'm ashamed of any of it -- you know that. It's that I hate the feeling of having offended someone, by saying or acting or joking in a way they find ugly... but if I don't know who's going to be listening now or in the future, how can I determine what level of taste I'm going to write to? I mean, to myself, a few friends, and some specially-selected strangers, I'm a right... well, the word is unmentionable. And I'm proud of it, no fear. But I write this bloglet, for instance, to meet the standards of "what I would show my Mom"... which is different, understandably, from "what I would show the rest of y'all loony youths"... and also different (and more base -- my ma's a forgiving woman; she's lived with my dad for 40 years, y'know) from "what I would show my aunt", or "my nephew's mother", or "my first grade teacher"... I don't like the obvious alternative, which would be to sanitize everything out of my mouth so finely that it could go on _Mr. Rogers_, but I'm not sure about the current state of it now... I'm not talking about secrets, or gossip, now -- because in those cases, whatever you reveal to someone when you shouldn't, regardless of whether you think it's in confidence or not, will get you just as much blame in my book as if you put it on a bathroom wall. I'm talking about decorum. And I don't know what's going to go kablooey in the long run, but I figure I'll just keep it my old kinky weedy self, with cussing and dirty links and all, and honnit soit qui mal y pense?
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(3)
03:08:11 AM,Wednesday 5 December 2001
Listening to the Lord of the Rings Soundtrack (streaming off the official site). It's very Carl Orff-ish, which seems like a good thing. Lots of climactic boom boom and creepy choirs. Howard Shore is seriously the only movie composer I can think of that I consistently respect. His Naked Lunch soundtrack is still the best score for a film I've ever heard. I can't stand Enya, but hell. John Williams is, on the other hand, the composer I can count on to consistently raise huge hissing hackles on my neck. I hate everything I've ever heard by him. Randy Newman, too, does awful soundtracks, which is a shame. Still gotta give more kudos to his _Faust_, though. I've listened to that four times in the last week, and it always makes my lip curl. {listening more}. Yeah, I got to say that hearing huge bellowing echoing Dwarvish male choruses is impressive. I can't really tell when they're singing in Quenya or Dwarvish or Black Tongue, or anything, but it's sufficient to know that they do. It ain't a brilliant soundtrack, so far as I can hear, but it's nice and rich and complicated. Not something you can listen to without the movie, really, but that's not a requirement in soundtracks, if you ask me. But, so far, not something (except in a few maddening floaty-science-fiction sections that always sound the same and always make me want to spit) that'll annoy me enough to dislike watching the movie, which happened, horribly, a few times in Harry Potter. Damn. Ah well. I'm bouncing on my toes!
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(4)
02:49:44 AM,Wednesday 5 December 2001
Dude, Remedios Varo invented that scooter thing ages ago.
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(2)
07:53:08 PM,Tuesday 4 December 2001
I think it's Sex Day in Johnnyland. I woke up, put on my _Congenital Invert_ shirt, and went to class. Minkowski was suddenly full of cuss words and men in top hats with huge flashlights. Gus, at lunch, started telling me about "buttock-hooks". My Lab tutor started talking about how hot Eartha Kitt was and how he and his roommate saw New Faces seventeen times. Then Baudelaire, naturally -- we read Les Bijoux. In the immortal words of Tim Sparkman: "It's not often you get horny doing your homework!" Lordy... saints preserve us from what'll happen next. I think I'll get on a little innocence kick; special winter storytellers tomorrow with homemade cookies and eggnog. I'm borrowing from the library: _The Glorious Impossible_, _Owl Moon_, _The Polar Express_, _Stickeen -- John Muir and the Brave Little Dog_, _The Tailor of Gloucester_, and _Zlateh the Goat_. Yay!
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(2)
07:42:08 PM,Tuesday 4 December 2001
I think the college president, Mr. Balcom, just emailed a virus to all students. Can you put a virus in a screensaver?
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(5)
02:59:18 PM,Tuesday 4 December 2001
Don't you think it would be nice if, sometime, all the blogledytes got together in real time on this grand old internet and talked to each other boom boom boom, like a conversation or something? I think it would be. I mean, I know most of y'all see each other tangibly every day, but I don't see *any* of you (and won't, until Neil gets his #&#*& webcam up), ever! It could be just a rambling, or we could make it something formal, like a seminar, or cyber Baron Munchausen {chicka-bow!}, or anything. I just think it'd be cool, maybe. Maybe?
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(14)
01:39:56 AM,Tuesday 4 December 2001
Roll me over in the clover, roll me over, lay me down and do it again...
Hem.
I wanna tell our water polo captain that our team should be called the SJC Torpedo Fish.
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(7)
01:27:13 AM,Tuesday 4 December 2001
