Wednesday, September 29, 2004
www.xanga.com/dirtypeaches
Seriously, everyone. www.xanga.com/dirtypeaches. The future is now.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
"Roseofsharon—stop breastfeeding that hobo!"
Well, the time has come, ladies and gentlemen. This Okie is making the trip out West. Figuratively, of course.
Like the Joad family, I've found that peaches over at Xanga—over yonder, just past the sated beggar and the recently bludgeoned Messianic icon—are just a little sweeter. More sugar for your shilling, to be crude about it.
See you there?
www.xanga.com/dirtypeaches
Like the Joad family, I've found that peaches over at Xanga—over yonder, just past the sated beggar and the recently bludgeoned Messianic icon—are just a little sweeter. More sugar for your shilling, to be crude about it.
See you there?
www.xanga.com/dirtypeaches
Sunday, August 08, 2004
You could float an ark in my lungs.
The fluids vaulting from my nose and mouth aside, today has been a today of pleasant surprises. The most recent surprise is that I've found the motivation and time to write another disptach, even if it is relatively low in content. Truly, I am God's gift to the internet and to...you?
Which reminds me: if you read this site, particularly if you read this site regularly, I'd love to hear from you. I'm always looking for feedback and suggestions and admonitions. And, as I've already got bronchitis, it should be clear that I'm not doing this for my health. Email me at jsgx@optonline.net. All letters, provided they're neither licentious nor psychotic, will receive a response. Come to think of it, licentious letters might receive a response, depending on my mood. But there you have it—I didn't make it to Provincetown this weekend.
More to come. Kisses, my bitches.
Which reminds me: if you read this site, particularly if you read this site regularly, I'd love to hear from you. I'm always looking for feedback and suggestions and admonitions. And, as I've already got bronchitis, it should be clear that I'm not doing this for my health. Email me at jsgx@optonline.net. All letters, provided they're neither licentious nor psychotic, will receive a response. Come to think of it, licentious letters might receive a response, depending on my mood. But there you have it—I didn't make it to Provincetown this weekend.
More to come. Kisses, my bitches.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
I can't think of a title. Fuck off, you fucking cocksuckers.
Just as I eat twice a day, take Effexor twice a day, smoke at least 12 times a day and wash my hands at least 13 times a day, I seem to update this site once a month. Each dispatch begins with an apology for, or callous and hypomanic defense of, my infrequent posting. I don't know. I just thought I'd bring it up.
It's 10am, Saturday. I'm supposed to be hungover in Provincetown, picking hairs out of my teeth. But no—I'm in my parents' Connecticut house (zing!) with bronchitis, spitting something awful and flipping channels. Perhaps you've heard it before, but there's nothing sadder than a randy gay smoker with bronchitis watching Leslie Nielsen's Mr Magoo. Oh, and did I mention that I'm updating my blog and wearing my mother's terrycloth bathrobe?
Move over, Phaedre.
I am the Saddest Sister alive.
As ineffably hideous as Mr Magoo is, it has revitalized me somewhat--which is to say, it's sharpened my arrogance and my inverted schadenfreude, letting me enjoy the knowledge that inferior people enjoy a movie I find so rankling. Right now, Leslie Nielsen is, well, sandpapering a chicken. I don't know how else to describe it. The temptation, of course, is to compare Mr Magoo to Leslie Nielsen sandpapering my 'chicken.' But it's not a terribly tempting temptation, mostly because it negates my earlier (and paradoxical) claim of ineffable hideousness.
One channel up is Pleasantville. Perhaps the best 'awful' movie to come out in the last five years, with a premise so dull that the movie can only get more interesting. And so it does.
Pleasant(ville) or not, I am convinced that the moguls of Hollywood think I'm retarded. I'm not sure if they're wrong, as I just sat through 50 minutes of sandpapering.
I'm not sure what else to write. I'm in good mood these days, though I'm unemployed and living at home. I'm lonely. If we used to talk regularly and we don't anymore, call me. I miss you.
Time to cough. And smoke. And wash my hands.
It's 10am, Saturday. I'm supposed to be hungover in Provincetown, picking hairs out of my teeth. But no—I'm in my parents' Connecticut house (zing!) with bronchitis, spitting something awful and flipping channels. Perhaps you've heard it before, but there's nothing sadder than a randy gay smoker with bronchitis watching Leslie Nielsen's Mr Magoo. Oh, and did I mention that I'm updating my blog and wearing my mother's terrycloth bathrobe?
Move over, Phaedre.
I am the Saddest Sister alive.
As ineffably hideous as Mr Magoo is, it has revitalized me somewhat--which is to say, it's sharpened my arrogance and my inverted schadenfreude, letting me enjoy the knowledge that inferior people enjoy a movie I find so rankling. Right now, Leslie Nielsen is, well, sandpapering a chicken. I don't know how else to describe it. The temptation, of course, is to compare Mr Magoo to Leslie Nielsen sandpapering my 'chicken.' But it's not a terribly tempting temptation, mostly because it negates my earlier (and paradoxical) claim of ineffable hideousness.
One channel up is Pleasantville. Perhaps the best 'awful' movie to come out in the last five years, with a premise so dull that the movie can only get more interesting. And so it does.
Pleasant(ville) or not, I am convinced that the moguls of Hollywood think I'm retarded. I'm not sure if they're wrong, as I just sat through 50 minutes of sandpapering.
I'm not sure what else to write. I'm in good mood these days, though I'm unemployed and living at home. I'm lonely. If we used to talk regularly and we don't anymore, call me. I miss you.
Time to cough. And smoke. And wash my hands.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Because You're Evil and You Lie
A month goes by and then I remember to update this site. If I had a pet that needed feeding, it would surely die of neglect.
Had an interesting, which is to say uneventful-though-pleasant, birthday. You know, I think "23" actually brings some wisdom...which I'll share next time.
Cheers to NRC, who not only called me on the night in question but who will, undoubtedly, appreciate the allusion made by this dispatch's title.
Had an interesting, which is to say uneventful-though-pleasant, birthday. You know, I think "23" actually brings some wisdom...which I'll share next time.
Cheers to NRC, who not only called me on the night in question but who will, undoubtedly, appreciate the allusion made by this dispatch's title.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Dustbunnies are stuck to my love-handles (Blood on the tracks)
It's 430am and I'm taking a break from packing up my room. I'm leaving Providence. And no, I'm not happy about it. I love this city—and while I shouldn't assume that my love is reciprocated, I can say with some objective certainty that we've had our moments. Driving off, I'm sure I'll have some sort of anxiety attack. If you see a black SUV on the side of the highway with its vaguely effeminate driver flapping his hands and sobbing, say hello. If you're a mental health professional, or simlarly equipped, offer me some Ativan and remind me how anxious I'll be once my parents start calling, asking why I'm not home yet. To be truthful, the discussion of my parents will only make me more anxious. But at least you'll have given me the Ativan. I mean, that's what counts. Don't flatter yourself.
I'd say that I have another 2 solid hours of packing and cleaning in front of me--and so I'm stalling. I'm prolonging the trauma, looking for that envelope marked "OXAZEPAM: FOR URGENT AND RECREATIONAL USE ONLY."
But on a more pleasant note, I'm also prolonging my early-early morning television exposure. To be specific, my exposure to ABC News. Now, we can joke about ABC all we want—how the network reached new cultural lows with the appearance and then disappearance of Urkel—but they know their news. Or, rather, they know the sort of news I like to watch. Here are some of the topics they covered tonight, as individuated by ABC:
Fat people
Health risks posed to fat people
The material concerns of fat people and the fat-contending professions
Tornados in the midwest
People dying in Iraq
Kids overeating
It might surprise you that the four stories pertaining to persons of girth were presented without transition. Aside from the big fat similarity, they really had nothing to do with each other and they were presented by different correspondents. We have an increase in the number of fat people in the US; fat people are more likely to suffer from death; how hospitals are going bankrupt in their efforts to physically house their fat people; and how kids are eating too much--and how eating too much, coupled with the absence of exercise, can lead to a serious case of fat people.
The story that caught my interest, though, was about the material concerns of the fat and those that care for the fat. With the subtlety of a rodeo clown, ABC reminded its viewers that fat people are consistently fatter than non-fat people--and that material goods marketed specifically to the fat are becoming more commonplace, emphasizing the dual-enabling nature of these products. Without editorializing, ABC referred us to the following site:www.amplestuff.com/.
At first glance, you really want to buy stock in this company. If you're not fat and you've both 1) noticed how many fat people are around these days and 2) never realized that fat people need larger umbrellas,www.amplestuff.com/ will transmit to you the cloying urge to become a successful investor. But then you notice that the site sells things like full-body bibs and has ad copy like:
"Several years ago a nationally syndicated television show featured 'people who hate fat people.' And one complaint voiced was that big people do not have good hygiene. Is this true? The answer is sometimes." (Ref: http://amplestuff.safeshopper.com/8/cat8.htm?391)
God, it's honesty like that makes you want to immolate yourself in front of the UN--or pull your black SUV to the side of the road and cry just a little.
I'd say that I have another 2 solid hours of packing and cleaning in front of me--and so I'm stalling. I'm prolonging the trauma, looking for that envelope marked "OXAZEPAM: FOR URGENT AND RECREATIONAL USE ONLY."
But on a more pleasant note, I'm also prolonging my early-early morning television exposure. To be specific, my exposure to ABC News. Now, we can joke about ABC all we want—how the network reached new cultural lows with the appearance and then disappearance of Urkel—but they know their news. Or, rather, they know the sort of news I like to watch. Here are some of the topics they covered tonight, as individuated by ABC:
Fat people
Health risks posed to fat people
The material concerns of fat people and the fat-contending professions
Tornados in the midwest
People dying in Iraq
Kids overeating
It might surprise you that the four stories pertaining to persons of girth were presented without transition. Aside from the big fat similarity, they really had nothing to do with each other and they were presented by different correspondents. We have an increase in the number of fat people in the US; fat people are more likely to suffer from death; how hospitals are going bankrupt in their efforts to physically house their fat people; and how kids are eating too much--and how eating too much, coupled with the absence of exercise, can lead to a serious case of fat people.
The story that caught my interest, though, was about the material concerns of the fat and those that care for the fat. With the subtlety of a rodeo clown, ABC reminded its viewers that fat people are consistently fatter than non-fat people--and that material goods marketed specifically to the fat are becoming more commonplace, emphasizing the dual-enabling nature of these products. Without editorializing, ABC referred us to the following site:
At first glance, you really want to buy stock in this company. If you're not fat and you've both 1) noticed how many fat people are around these days and 2) never realized that fat people need larger umbrellas,
"Several years ago a nationally syndicated television show featured 'people who hate fat people.' And one complaint voiced was that big people do not have good hygiene. Is this true? The answer is sometimes." (Ref: http://amplestuff.safeshopper.com/8/cat8.htm?391)
God, it's honesty like that makes you want to immolate yourself in front of the UN--or pull your black SUV to the side of the road and cry just a little.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
The ground beneath her feet
And suddenly, motion isn't relative any more.
