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18 July 2009 @ 03:06 am


Where is everyone? It's 3 o'clock in the morning, you silly wizards. Do you plan on sleeping the whole freakin' day away???

 
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17 July 2009 @ 11:33 pm

  • dancing
  • the sadness

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    18 July 2009 @ 01:09 am



    My family.




     
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    17 July 2009 @ 09:38 pm
    .


    ME: I think I'm going to have to wait to live my dream of working a dig in Kenya in my next life.
    HE: Why? You can still do it.
    ME: No, I can't. I don't like bugs or too much heat.
    HE: That does limit your options. The Yucatan is out, too.
    ME: It sounded so good when I was in the 5th grade.
    HE: You'll have to work an archaeology dig in Seattle.
    ME: I've already done it here. Near Mt. Rainier.
    HE: True.
    ME: And I had to put up with cows and rain and mud.
    HE: There you go, you lived the hardship.
    ME: My favorite part was cataloging the artifacts. I had to draw them, measure them, record the shape, size, color and material, like saying it was granite--
    HE: It could have been another type of rock and you took it for granite.
    ME: Don't make me stab you.



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    17 July 2009 @ 07:49 pm
    I'm going to be posting this a few places, but:

    Is anyone here going to Comic-Con, and if so, would they have any space in their room for Annie? She's looking to go, but doesn't have lodging. I won't be attending unfortunately, but she does take up very little space and splendidly tidy. In fact I could probably fit her in a backpack.
     
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    17 July 2009 @ 06:39 pm
    My niece on her 6th birthday.

    Originally posted on mystified13.vox.com

     
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    BPAL is going to make a line of Amanda Palmer oils?!?

    Must. Have. Some!

    (see [info]bpal_excathedra's latest post)
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    17 July 2009 @ 06:24 pm
    "and here the mixed breed, part man, part beast, the Minotaur--
    a warning against such monstrous passion."
     
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    17 July 2009 @ 06:07 pm
    "Down at his feet
    he flung his useless helmet, the one he donned
    when he played at war, acting out mock battles."
     
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    18 July 2009 @ 07:37 am
    609  
    a night of waking to my own wordless voice. a nightmare just before 3 a.m. - thinking i am awake, a bright flash of light, paralysis, someone in the room. i wake for good and lie frozen, thinking of my uncle, whose only sign of stroke was a bright flash of light causing him to drive his car off the road.

    *

    our flesh
    Surrounds us with its own decisions.

    philip larkin
     
     
    mood: your blood, your bones
    music: your voice, and your ghost
     
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    17 July 2009 @ 04:54 pm
    You know how generally some shows aspire to greatness or at least very goodness, and other shows are kind of bad and have trouble pulling it together, and some shows are in the middle -- as good as they need to be for casual entertainment?

    I keep thinking that Leverage should sit squarely in the middle, and from the episodes that I've seen, sometimes it does. But much too often, it slips into bad -- or falls distractingly short of good enough -- where it really doesn't need to. It's frustrating, because it feels so close to "as good as it needs to be" but can't quite consistently get there.

    I might have mentioned this before, but while I'm at it -- I love Aldis Hodge's Hardison, but I vaguely wish he were on one of those first category shows that have higher aspirations. Because as long as he's on Leverage, he can pretty much coast on his charm and charisma in the role. And Gina Bellman, who was so great in Jekyll, really needs better material than she's been getting here as Sophie.

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    17 July 2009 @ 04:11 pm
    Creating a trip hop soundtrack to the flick, turning the screen red when the Klan shows up and superimposing thin white animated lines to highlight and isolate certain images onscreen like the stitching on a hipster T-shirt do not a remix make.

    The kid gloves that critics seem to wear when dealing with this project says much more interesting and troubling things about where the intellectual/arty class is with Art and Race in this country than That Subliminal Kid’s freshman undergraduate treatment of the material.
     
     

    From a Racialicious post on a recent MoMA screening of DJ Spooky's Rebirth of a Nation, billed as a remix of DW Griffith's 1915 Birth of a Nation. One main theme in the critique is that the original source was insufficiently remixed; the result was, in effect, more a re-presenting of the film that reproduced its racism.

    The whole post, and further discussion in comments, is worth reading.

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    17 July 2009 @ 02:50 pm

    Julius Shulman died.

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    17 July 2009 @ 02:40 pm
    I really, really love this poem, California, written by my friend Jen Denrow. Go read it.
     
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    17 July 2009 @ 07:24 am
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    As we're nearly asleep, whispering in the dark while I rub his head:

    ME: I love you.
    HE: I really, really, really, really, really, really, really love you.
    ME: That was a lot of reallys.
    HE: Was it?
    ME: Yes. I think you used a whole box of them. You better buy some more.
    HE: Okay.



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    17 July 2009 @ 07:18 am

    ME: You're my caveman.
    HE: *growl*
    ME: So pull my hair. Now.
    HE: *laughs* I'll hit you in the head with my club--
    ME: And drag me to your cave?
    HE: Actually I don't think that really happened.
    ME: How come?
    HE: It wouldn't be very beneficial--
    ME: To their propagation?
    HE: Right.
    ME: But I bet that's where the saying, "Not tonight, I have a headache" came from.
    HE: *laughs* Not tonight, I have a fractured skull.



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    17 July 2009 @ 09:13 am


    "In A Haze" is an EP of lovely dark drones set to sparse, trancey beats.

    In A Haze at Archive org
     
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    17 July 2009 @ 08:20 am
    Fuck my butt. Sean had to work, so was napping. Decided to wait to drop my car off with my mom. Horrid idea. One minute too late, standby flight was full, luggage may already be in Atlanta. My flight doesn't leave til 10. Been waiting for hours. have more hours to wait til I depart there. Arrive in Kansas at 5pm.

    Isn't this my life? I am taking a nap. Fuuuuuuck.
     
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    17 July 2009 @ 02:16 am
    when i was young
    i very much enjoyed
    taking my head
    on top of my neck
    throwing it backward
    and slamming the rear
    of my skull into
    the nearest available wall

    and now i am accused of age
    am meant to divulge
    my appetite for shiny vehicles
    and the shapes of passing women
    who apparently wish to be teased
    onto the imaginary
    cocks of my eager equals

    but i'm neither amused
    nor entertained
    nor interested?
    as i respect their hunger
    for other flesh and to fit in
    but can't invoke
    the words to count the madness
    the music for the sin
    the dispositioned urge
    borne of youth enmazed

    can i help it?
    knowing wrong,
    tired, potent, disbelieving
    and charming all desire anyway?
     
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