Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup --
Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup


NO INTERNET FOR FIVE DAYS

NOW, INTERNET.

INTERNET!

INTERNET!!!

FWAAAAAAAAAAAAH! _
respond? (5)
10:01:55 PM, Wednesday 22 May 2002

"Pull out the stopper! Let's have a whopper!
But get me to the [placita] on time!"

"Drug me or jail me, Stamp me and mail me.
But get me to the [placita] on time!"

"Feather and tar me; Call out the Army;
But get me to the [placita], get me to the [placita],
get me to the [placita] on time."

"Hail and salute me -- then haul off and boot me,
And get me to the [placita], Get me to the [placita] --
For Gawd's sake, get me to the [placita] on time!" _
respond? (4)
07:16:54 AM, Saturday 18 May 2002

Today at the dance Alana Hollingsworth said to me, "You have the most perfect nose. Sometimes when nothing was happening in class, I used to stare at it. Maybe it's only from one side, though." I stammered a bit, and said the only thing I could think of, which was, "Um... thank you. It's Italian." I would have thought with provocation like that I'd have been justified in telling her she was the cutest damn girl in our whole lab class, hands down, and when nothing was likewise happening on my end of the table I used to gaze at more than just her nose... but I bit my tongue and took a strawberry, and then Brett dragged me back to play "Night and Day" while Reighne sang. Flurgh. _
respond? (2)
07:09:45 AM, Saturday 18 May 2002

Can't sleep... graduation will eat me... _
respond? (1)
05:38:51 AM, Saturday 18 May 2002

Gah! Don't look now, but I think I might have found a ka-thumpity-thump. (Did the blogmass win the lovelorn lotto or something?!) She's cute as the dickens, immensely well-spoken, playful, silly, butchly, *digs* butchly types, (thinks I'm -- eep! -- hot), and is crazy for Bach's cello concertos. But of course there's a catch. She lives in Albuquerque. I'm leaving this gorgeous scrap of desert in two days. This sucks. Sucks sucks. Fooey. Maybe online personals *are* a tool of Satan. _
respond? (7)
07:26:30 PM, Friday 17 May 2002

T.I.A.I.L.W.: Atropos, the Inevitable. _
respond? (3)
06:19:29 AM, Friday 17 May 2002

Well put.

"No more. None. Nothing. Done."

I'm a...

Nothing.

The End. _
respond? (3)
02:41:19 AM, Friday 17 May 2002

I am unsanctionably interested in other peoples' ex-girlfriends.

What does it feel like to have poison poured in your ear?

I am about to tear it up and put it back together.

My entry in the little class of 2002 address book reads like this:

Mirabai Knight
242 E. Beckwith Ave.
somewhere in the US
(406) 549-0734
teticscetic@altavista.net
http://m14m.net/haberdash/

I am perturbed and mystified at this. My theory? Bug guts.

I sang The Battle Hymn of the Republic of Letters into a microphone at the dinner.

Storytellers' was cancelled. And I had good cookies, too. {sigh}

I watched a movie about a haunted house and an evil chauffeur, and part of a movie about evil yuppie aliens.

I am eager to see my parents, but I don't want them to get here when my room looks like this. It's all the fault of the pandering, as Mr. S-C would put it.

Spinoza has a lemon-yellow frond.

I want a sopranino recorder because it only comes in one piece and is very small so I can carry it in a pocket without worrying about it coming apart. Plus I could learn to play that kickass Vivaldi concerto for zipping fingers and steam out the ears.

I think I have a thing for miniature instruments anyway -- pocket trumpets, pocket violins, and, of course, jew's harps. I've started carrying a comb around with me nearly everywhere I go, too. If I just had some tissue paper... but, no, eek. I ain't gonna stoop that low. I'm not the biggest enthusiast of harmonicas, either.

Things which are good to eat: Charcoal, Borscht, Wood Pulp, Violet Pastilles.

Things which end in "ooo": Imbue, Horseshoe, Irish Stew, Gardyloo

Things which end: A long-playing record, A rattlesnake, Childhood

Things which are underestimated: Belgians, Forget-Me-Nots, Mothers

Things: Diamond Rings, Apron Strings, Hat With Wings

I'm not sleeping; I'm an off-duty somnambulist.

(I haven't had a mad scene in who knows how long.) _
respond? (3)
04:54:20 AM, Thursday 16 May 2002

I had my last music class. Mr. Fasanaro bought us carrot cake. He also bought me a present -- an incredible present. It's a glass pen. It looks a bit like these, only more beautiful -- there are thick and thin patterns of spiralling blue and white on mine. It's intricate and light. It's perfect. He also gave me ink, with a built-in inkwell. Then he played jazz, and I drew a trumpet in blue ink with my pen and put the words to St. Louis Woman above it. Some other kids brought in music, too -- some sort of silly pretentious heavy metal music, some good rap, some sampled stuff that was a little dull -- and I played Min Bröllopsdag. Susie Vlcek liked it so much that she said she was going to Candyman to buy the album during lunch. Afterwards, he gave me a hug. Man. Freaking hell. No more music, ever. Damnit. I'm going to write something with my pen and then fall asleep. I slept a bit in the bath today. In lab we watched a movie about macaques. In seminar we talked about To The Lighthouse. I'm not sure what to think of that book, but I admire its skill. Both Mr. Van Luchene and Mr. Thompson like it a lot, though. Mr. Thompson, since it was the last time he was allowed to ask an opening question, said that he was honored to be in the the last year of seminar we would ever have, because he could imagine what it felt like. He said he saw our band when it played on the balcony during Reality. He's a jazz pianist. I'll miss him too. I'm going to make a list of all the tutors I had at SJC, because I don't want to forget. I doubt if I will, but still.

Mr. Blaustein
Mr. Sterling
Ms. Paalman
Mr. Goldberg
Mr. Kress

Mr. White
Mr. Pastille
Mr. Harrell
Mr. Ludwig
Mr. Grenke

Ms. Adam
Mr. Franks
Mr. Stickney
Mr. Stickney
Ms. Otsuki
Mr. Fasanaro
Mr. Cohn

Mr. Thompson
Mr. Van Luchene
Mr. Richardson
Mr. Steadman
Ms. Dougherty
Mr. Taylor
Mr. Fasanaro

Last lab, math, and language class tomorrow. No more, never. _
respond? (2)
06:03:28 AM, Tuesday 14 May 2002

"...she did in her own heart
infinitely prefer boobies to clever men who wrote dissertations..."

"For her own part, she liked her boobies. Paul must sit by her. She had kept a place for him. Really, she sometimes thought she liked the boobies best."

-- To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf _
respond? (2)
12:54:57 AM, Tuesday 14 May 2002

T.: Patricia Racette A.: Beth Clayton A.I.L.W.: Each other! And they live in Santa Fe! With a poodle! And I might have seen them on the street and not known who they are! And they're playing sisters (kinky!) in Eugene Onegin this summer! In Santa Fe! God! Damnit! Real life dyke opera couples are! worth! exclamation! marks! Especially when they're in (#*&(#*! Santa Fe! Right! Now! _
respond? (1)
05:49:32 PM, Monday 13 May 2002

Item one: I should have been a goat.

Item two: It's monkey Monday!

Item three: Last music class ever? Aieeee! _
respond? (4)
12:32:58 PM, Monday 13 May 2002

So Blog Once More, So Blog Once More, dee dum diddle dum de la la, deedle dum de dum.

Jeff Johnston told me that one of the reasons Nietzsche broke it off with Wagner is because he played him some of his compositions, and Wagner said, "These suck". And Nietzsche was like, "Fine, then! Screw you, Dickie!" And the Anti-Semitism was pissing him off anyway, and he got all the chicks, including hot famous chicks like Lizsts and Wesendoncks, so Freddy blew him off and went home and wrote nasty things about his music and his dorkitude. And they lived happily ever after. _
respond? (3)
05:27:08 AM, Monday 13 May 2002

T.I.A.I.L.W.: Alison Bechdel! (Did I beat him? We shall see!) _
respond? (1)
02:08:31 AM, Monday 13 May 2002

Co. Si. Fan. Tut. Te! _
respond?
05:43:32 PM, Sunday 12 May 2002

My mama is perfect. I love ya, Mama. _
respond? (1)
02:34:21 PM, Sunday 12 May 2002

It's light outside. _
respond?
07:54:06 AM, Sunday 12 May 2002

Tritone Police are looking through your folders. Tritone Police are talking to your niece. _
respond? (1)
07:10:57 AM, Sunday 12 May 2002

Um, so I'm putting together a sheet of lyrics for my blogswap CD (to be linked to shortly), and I get to "St. James's Infirmary". I notice that the last line is, "So the boys will know that I died standing pat." Now, I've heard this phrase before, but I didn't know precisely what it meant. I typed it into google, naturally, and got: "'Standing pat' means to compute the static evaluation score of a node in order to test it against the upper search bound for a possible fail-high beta cutoff without further lookahead." Well, good for you, Louis. I'm sure I'd do the same. _
respond? (5)
06:28:00 AM, Sunday 12 May 2002

I am happy.

I am merry. _
respond? (4)
04:36:59 AM, Sunday 12 May 2002


older entries
bloglet script by Moss Collum