• I finally watched Children of Men. Wow, what a depressing film. And yet, it was gorgeous. Alfonso Cuarón has a remarkable talent for making abject despair and urban decay seem achingly, surreally beautiful. I had initially expressed concern that the film would be a reactionary piece about underpopulation (based on today’s popular anti-immigrant fervor), but I’m happy to report that it’s actually much more complicated than that. Amanda Marcotte wrote an interesting post about…
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Check out how he sniffs out just the perfect spot to sink his teeth into. This is how he flushes out the ferociousness from his system. A couple of bites on my arm a week, and he’s good and sweet.
It’s like make-up work, in blog form. • I hadn’t seen Jimmy or Theresa in several months. In fact, I think the last time might have been last spring or summer. Anyway, it had been too long. Theresa and I hung out in the kitchen for way too long and girl talked. We watched old videos of the guys answering random questions posed by their friends. We laughed as Phil winced at his silly accent…
I just got back from a walk to Burke’s to return the book I got for my dad’s birthday, which — as I suspected — he already owned. That little transaction will help out with the budget situation this week, but it means that I have to keep hunting for something the man doesn’t already own. Which is fricking impossible; this makes at least the third or fourth time I’ve bought him something he already…
I went to bed at a whoppingly early 12:30, and here it is, nearly three hours later, and I’m up and about, pretty much wide awake. Not sure what woke me. I think it may have been a train. The windows are open, so it’s a little louder than usual out there. Blaaaaaah. Too late for Nyquil or Benadryl, warm milk sounds disgusting (and I’m out of milk anyway), reading does the opposite of put…
• I burnt the ever-loving shit out of my left thumb and forefinger today, getting Texas Toast out of the oven with what are, apparently, completely decorative pot-holders. It has taken me, like, fifteen minutes to type this many letters. • My neighbor has three big dogs living in her apartment. It’s sweet in theory, but really annoying in practice. • Perfect pre-spring sipping wine: Viognier. Mmm, apples and honeysuckle. • I’ve spent more time…
Days like today were made for tank tops, wet hair, Billie Holiday, a freshly swept floor, the hum of lawnmowers, the smell of cut grass, the taste of orange juice, and the thought of hope tucked somewhere just beneath the heart.
(click to biggie size) Better than the Thunderstick Pro, better than the Jack LaLane Powerjuicer, better than any ol’ stupid Ronco shit: THE AEROGARDEN. Look at this thing. The hosts are so completely excited about the prospect of growing tiny tomatoes and lettuce and take a look at this time-lapse footage and all you need is water and nutrient pills administered when prompted by the digital readout and don’t forget the pre-planted seedling pod that…
Yawn. Lazy week. I just laughed out loud at the bit on the Daily Show about Daylight Saving Time. I’m sitting here listening to Regina Spektor’s first album, wishing I had kept taking piano lessons when I was a kid. And thrown in singing lessons for good measure. I just want to sit around and warble about random shit I see. Which is kind of what I do here, but I think I’d rather do…
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