oh! sweet nothin'
01.25.04 @ 1:00 a.m.
It's fairly late. I copped out on going to Amy and Andrew's house in Corvallis in favor of staying here and 'doing homework' which amounts to reading this moderately dreary novel about a Native American woman and her half-Sioux, half-French-Canadian husband and their participation in an expedition to find a land route to the mouth of the Columbia river. Thrilling stuff, yeah?
Sacagawea is so thin. Sacagawea looks tired. She seems sickly. Have I mentioned that Sacagawea doesn't look well? Pierre got drunk and beat me again. Oh, I am a terrible mother to his children.
And so on.
What I actually accomplished this evening is the production of some excellent garlic chicken alfredo, fueling of my increasing, bizarre infatuation with Ardal O'Hanlon, and the creation of a killer sketch from "Sea & Sand." I do this a lot, sketching parts of stories I'm working on. I've described the photo I sketched in a couple of different synopses of the Elizabeth Parkrose (named for my all time favorite fictional heroine, Elizabeth Bennet) stories. I've even drawn it a couple of times in margins and things. One of the most interesting things about it (to me) is that I hadn't settled on a physical description of major secondary character Siobhan except that she had true Irish coloration: near black hair, pale complextion, and blue eyes. I hadn't realized until I drew this picture that she had short hair and a tiny stature. She looks like a pixie. And it totally suits her. Her counterpart, a photographer named Johannes, is looking surprisingly hipsterish for someone who lives in 1968. Shag blond hair and black frame glasses and all. Anyway, the picture is supposed to be a gimmicky magazine cover about the spread of mod culture, and I'm pretending (without doing any research or anything) that it hit Ireland rather than just skulking around basement clubs in London and damp bank holidays at Brighton and such. To symbolize that, the cover has a mod lad, ace face, etc, with Elizabeth and Siobhan on either arm, with dresses patterned on their respective flags.
I blame Townshend's Union Jack-et.
Seriously, what is it about Ardal that makes me laugh so much? Why do I think his show, of somewhat iffy quality overall, is 25 minutes of pure awesome? I have his episode of Comedy Central Presents on tape. Maybe his accent has set off my Irish genetics. "Oh, you say 'tink' instead of 'think'! Marry me!"
Haha, I'm a total dork.
Last few things:
-Fuckwit Landlord asked to come in to look at the window, wanting to blame us for the weird band across it, but I told him it was on the outside and it's always been there. Then I helpfully pointed out that it looked like water was seeping in between the panes of glass. This was possibly very stupid, as he might try to get the window replaced. It's a fucking big window, too.
-I bitched out Ena a little last night for not showing up until 9, but we watched Fellowship anyway and last night I had unremembered dreams about Gandalf and Aragorn.
-iTunes can encode an image of the album cover into an MP3. I have spent a bunch of this evening putting the appropriate images with several playlists. I have 699 songs in my iTunes right now, what with the Jet album I just loaded in. It's 3.23 gigs of my harddrive. I'm thinking of downloading Ryan Adams' Rock N Roll in prep for the concert, if Martha got the tickets. Or is she getting those next week? Can't remember.
-I put a striking photo of Martha and Andrew that I took last November in a cheesy frame my aunt sent me. It says "Amigos" in a really girly font. I think I'm going to have to dig through my big box o' magazine clippings for something more appropriate to glue over it.
-I'm tired and still have a bunch to read.
[title track: possibly mispelled Velvet Underground track, mine via the High Fidelity soundtrack.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
