michigan blackhawk
02.09.04 @ 3:28 p.m.
EDITED! IF YOU READ THIS BEFORE 8:30, THERE'S NEW STUFF AT THE BOTTOM!
From: Ellen
To: Martha
Subject: googleUm. My diary site got a google hit for "Ukelele
Hammersmith Palais." Can you imagine someone trying
to play "(White Man in) Hammersmith Palais" on
ukelele? I'm not sure that I can.
From: Martha
To: Ellen
Subject: RE: googleIt sounds like something Ryan Adams would do. Maybe it was Ryan Adams. Ryan Adams reads your diary! Ryan Adams is in love with you! He reads your diary and sometimes sends his friends links to it! Parker Posey is jealous!
Ah, delightful.
I've been listening to a lot of Monkees today, sparked by all the Nesmith listening I did yesterday. This is good. I had forgotten how much I loved songs like "Tapioca Tundra" and "Porpoise Song" and all that. Even Davy songs, a little. But mostly the grand, rollicking Nesmith country rock tunes or experimental semi-psychedellic.
Valentine's Day approaches. Almost no one I know is happy about this, except a few smug assholes in my Italian class who said things like "Andr� a San Francisco con il mio ragazzo." I'm going home. I'm going home to my parents and a dog show in Albany on Sunday. Fuckin' wooo. Actually, I don't mind. I'll be happy to see my parents, the dogs, and such. And not think about the hideous holiday. My first year in the dorms, there were two very considerate boys on the second floor who left two roses outside every door on the girls' floors and two boxes of Neko hearts with our names on them. Very considerate boys, indeed.
Anyway, I'm making a mix CD for my mom. It's something I've been meaning to do, anyway. I think it'll be Nesmith heavy now, mostly the less rocking stuff like "Some of Shelley's Blues." I also need to make a mix for Jessica.
I'm feeling very magnanimous and damnit, I want a project. So if anyone wants a mix CD, let me know at my hotmail email address (findable in recent entries, if you look), I will gladly send something. I feel like mailing things. (I like the postal service.) This mostly applies to people I know, including people I only kind of know, like via message boards. But if I've never even heard of you, I probably won't respond.
Well. Back to Kesey, I suppose, and endless things about rain. Things about not knowing if you'll survive here without spending a winter here. That seems preposterous to me, the rain doesn't seem that bad. But perhaps it's the growing up here that changes my perception. Anyway, it's not like it rains every single day.
We do know what the sun looks like.
*edit begins*
So, Ken Kesey. I'm about 200 pages behind on my reading, yes, but I'm already formulating a love-hate relationship with the man. The book is intriguing, yes, but it's also bloody confusing, with constant shifts in narration, up to three or four times in a single sentence. He overuses parentheses almost as badly as I do. Throw in liberal use of italics, and we have a bit of a mess. I'm told things pick up in about 40 pages, so there's always hope.
I tried to get to class only 15 minutes late. That, I'll admit, was quite deliberate. But then I missed the bus, and ended up being a little more than 45 minutes late. (This is because I spent some time in the hallway hoping he'd call break so I wouldn't have to participate in small class discussion. I bit the bullet and went in anyway. Turns out the people I sat down with hadn't read any further than me, and so we had nothing to talk about except my usual bitch about the way rain sits hulking in all these novels like a big, fat, smelly acquaintance from high school who insists on "catching up" when you just wish he would leave you alone. (Alternately, same big fat acquaintance who rides the bus with you in high school and spends all his time talking about Python, Hitler, and the Anarchist's Cookbook. Fucking hell, the people I used to know.)
I am jealous of the people over on the PC side of the lab (SEGREGATION! Call the ACLU!) (<--I am feeling particularly absurd just now, thanks.) who appear to have AIM on their computers. Not that I would likely start any conversations (esp. as in a couple of minutes I will be taking off for the bus), but I do enjoy just being online. Aim-stalking, reading away messages, killin' time.
When I get home I am murdering some chicken tortellini with garlic alfredo sauce. It is almost all I can think about. That, and Jiffy Apple Muffin Mix. I have a box of it and it is crying out to be made. I remember once my grandma made it like cornbread (I think she got the boxes mixed up--this is before her cataract surgury) in a pie pan and oh my lord it is delicious with margarine.
Interesting thing about me, which I am going to type realy fast as I should be getting going: I grew up in a house with someone eternally dieting, so I cannot stand the taste of real butter nor milk with more than 1% fat. It's fairly horrid. Mmm, food replacements.
Okay, must dash, the last thing I want is to miss yet another bus today.
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
