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


"Happy" is the most insufficient word... man. But. Well, come over here and look at my face. Then blog that, if you can. _
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12:05:01 AM, Friday 9 July 2004

Aschenbach is not a Mary Sue. _
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11:22:46 AM, Thursday 8 July 2004

"I wear what makes me look good."

"You don't look good. You look like a boy."

"Yeah! A smokin' hot boy!"

"You don't look like a smoking hot boy. You look like a nerd boy."

"Yeah! A smokin' hot nerd boy!" _
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07:54:42 PM, Tuesday 6 July 2004

So, to look at things bluntly and realistically, barring a miracle, I won't be able to afford my own apartment anywhere in New York City. That's fine; I just have to quit holding out hope for it. Either I'll get a live-in job, or I'll find some agreeable roommates. Jobs, jobs, jobs. I've got a phone interview with a lady set up for tomorrow, a call-us-back-when-you-get-to-town, and just today received a "your resume is impressive but the position has been filled" email from a place I applied to in May. Nice of 'em to write back, anyway; more than most do. But I'm keeping at it. One cool thing about it is discovering all these organizations I've never heard of. Of course, most of them are offering nightmarish fund-raising/organizational/management positions that, glurgh, I could do if I had to but I'd really really rather not. But check some of these out:

The Our Time Theatre Company, for teens who stutter.

The Jewish Foundation for the Righteous, which pensions non-Jews who rescued victims of the Holocaust.

The Robin Hood Foundation, which gives to the poor, though it's justifiably cagey about admitting to any stealing-from-the-rich action.

The Third Street Music School Settlement, which offers music programs to anyone, not only whether you're rich or not, but also whether you're talented or not. Awesome.

Anyway. I'm not so discouraged anymore. _
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05:51:27 PM, Tuesday 6 July 2004

Woo for RBL. _
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05:24:10 PM, Tuesday 6 July 2004

"Kjaert barn har mange navn."
"A dear child has many names."
(old Norwegian proverb) _
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05:11:03 PM, Monday 5 July 2004

"Regardez le ciel!" -- beautiful little French 8-year-old kid named Matteo, getting blissed out by the sunset in the mountains yesterday up at my mom's friend's ranch. All clapping and hollering at the fireworks and trying judo moves on my dad and turning cartwheels and then stopping everything to look at the sky. That kid's got it right. _
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03:46:22 PM, Monday 5 July 2004

I keep hearing fireworks go off outside my window. Now, I dig fireworks (I think tomorrow I'll go out and get some myself), but these particular ones make this very brief and gentle "Pfwoop!" noise that sounds exactly like the noise my alarm clock used to make a second before it went into its hideous "Nreet-Nreet-Nreet!" routine. I keep jumping and bracing my ears and then feeling like a tosspot. Oh well. _
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04:16:04 AM, Sunday 4 July 2004

Summer Reading Goal Update

Tuesday June 15 to Monday June 21:

Hours of Television: ~1 (an hour and ten minutes)
Books: 2 (I, Claudius by Robert Graves and The Variable Man by Philip K. Dick)

Tuesday June 22 to Present:

Hours of Television: ~2 (an hour and thirty-five minutes)
Books: 4 (Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson (ok, actually only the second half, but Julia said it could count as a whole book), Barrel Fever by David Sedaris, Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, and This Stranger, My Son by Louise Wilson. Every bit as godawful as it sounds, but hey; it's summer.) _
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03:57:30 AM, Sunday 4 July 2004

"As for 'words': are they perhaps less a means of redemption than a tool for getting emotions out of harm's way, putting them in cold storage? Literary language gets rid of feelings in a very quick and shallow fashion, and there's really something very icy and outrageously presumptuous about that process. If your heart is too full, and you're all too deeply moved by a sweet or sublime experience -- then nothing could be simpler! You go to a litterateur, and everything is taken care of in a jiffy! He will analyze and formulate your problem, identify it, articulate it, make it speak -- he will rid you of the entire matter for good, neutralize it, and not accept any gratitude. And you will go home relieved, cooled off, cleansed, and you will be amazed that this issue could have ever upset you with such sweet tumult. And you seriously want to champion this cold and conceited charlatan? His motto is: Anything that's articulated is taken care of. And if the whole world is articulated, then it's taken care of, redeemed, eliminated... all well and good! But I'm no nihilist."

-- Thomas Mann, "Tonio Kröger"

"'We had a kettle: we let it leak:
Our not repairing it made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe!'

This was none of the good Lord's pleasure,
For the Spirit He breathed in Man is free;
But what comes after is measure for measure,
And not a God that afflicteth thee.

As was the sowing so the reaping
Is now and evermore shall be.
Thou art delivered to thine own keeping
Only Thyself hath afflicted thee!"

-- Rudyard Kipling, "Natural Theology" _
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03:41:45 AM, Sunday 4 July 2004

Gotta stop feeling intimidated by smart people. _
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02:37:52 AM, Sunday 4 July 2004

I was reading in the bathtub when I heard three horrifying feline screams. Like something getting its eyes put out. I struggled wetly into my clothes and ran the hell downstairs to find my cat standing with his paws on the screen door and his tail like a bottlebrush growling low in his throat at the driveway. I touched his head, and he snarled. I turned the outside light on. Nothing. When I went to ask my dad if he'd heard it (he hadn't; his headphones were on. Plus, he's deaf as a Pohst.), and came back to show him, Mitya had dropped down and gone quiet and was just standing there. Then he curled up on my dad's chair and I went back to my bath. _
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02:10:39 AM, Sunday 4 July 2004

Saw Fahrenheit 9/11 tonight. Glad I did. Oof. _
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11:49:25 PM, Saturday 3 July 2004

K. found a feed of Martial's Epigrams! Damn, this girl rules. Damn. _
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08:01:52 PM, Saturday 3 July 2004

Not quite right. Not golden, and the singing bred more than singing. A zed insinuated itself alongside sometime during. And no fire, and no window. But still. Still. _
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10:30:41 AM, Friday 2 July 2004

Warkloom, n. A tool; an implement. [Scot.]
Stiriated, a. [L., stiria; an icicle.] Adorned with pendants like icicles.
Bois Durci, n. [F., hardened wood.] A hard, highly polishable composition, made of fine sawdust from hard wood (as rosewood) mixed with blood, and pressed. _
respond? (2)
10:05:32 AM, Friday 2 July 2004

I confuse:

Lilli Lehmann, Lotte Lehmann, and Ute Lemper. EDIT: And Lotte Lenya! Thanks, mein leetle Weill-whupper.
Rob Schneider, Rod Steiger, and Roy Scheider

Oh, and the two Winston Churchills, but they're hardly fair, are they? _
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10:04:51 AM, Friday 2 July 2004

{toddles off to work whistling "The Handsome Cabin Boy"} _
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12:42:01 AM, Thursday 1 July 2004

The Map of Tenderness. (La Carte du Tendre. Also available in cheesy tourist format.) _
respond? (1)
09:45:39 PM, Wednesday 30 June 2004

I'm cold. It's the end of June, the sun is shining, I'm under a thick down dyne, I'm perfectly healthy, and my knees are drawn clear up to my chest, but I'm cold. I think it's 'cause... well, I think it's 'cause I'm wanting heat, is what. But tush. _
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10:24:11 AM, Wednesday 30 June 2004


Mirabai Knight
(thomasaquinas@catholic.org)

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