baby's first byt-e

clicky clicky.



people are already getting mean.

no one belongs here more than you and david foster safran lethem eggers

went to a book talk last night at olsson's. it was a biography of the guy who wrote peanuts by someone who writes for the nytimes. didn't read the book, didn't really know anything about the guy, never really considered myself a fan of the strip even. the episode where linus waits for the great pumpkin kinda gets me nostalgic. but i like books and it was free and, save applying for food stamps or taking up drugs, i really had nothing better to do. plus, i hate to think that i'm falling into a rut of only doing things that are hip and ironicly uncool so it makes me cool but not if i admit that i liked it vomit vomit vomit.

but it honestly was so boring. and like so many of my generation raised on matrix pikachou myspace telefurbys, after 5 seconds without immediate visceral stimulation, i lost interest and began to doodle. here is what i found myself scribbling on the back of a pay stub i found in my purse:

talks too fast
went to schulz's house, studio, found dandruff on back of his chair (gross)
posthumous biography - scary prospect -> who knows you when you're alive, and after death? (who cares?)
still boring
art imitates life - and the reverse - its true
seriously what is the point of this book?
gnarly split ends on girl (page?) seated in front of me
floral bag-dress and dusty stockings on senior next to me (old. people)
maybe i don't know enough about peanuts
f scott fitzgerald was from Minn. - really
wawawawawa (teacher, all adults)
i'm surrounded by true dc elite of the styleless and fug

happy halloween (almost).

losing my vieiners

can this day drag on longer?

i got shit to do, namely, gotta find a wig for saturday.



mash here for the end of my dignity.

the question no one seems to be asking

ohmygod when is the sequel to stomp the yard coming out?!

according to the chris brown forum... people all over the world can't spell right.



too much drama in the lbc for just one.

is it me or does wonkette kinda blow now that pareene left?

anyone?

tweakin into a whole new era

the leaves turn, the rats pick clean the chicken bone on my front stoop, and i can now leave the house without dowsing myself in deet. its fall, or it will be soon, maybe, which makes me thankful for one thing. r kelly.



the summer of pussy rock thus endeth. let the winter of the endless grind begin. real talk!

or not

so the camping didn't happen, sadly. what did happen was a lot of searching in vain for the ultimate dance party. all i wanted was a little soulja boy, or maybe some wipe me down, or a bit of same girl remix. instead i got disco 2000 and guitar hero. and a hangover.



sunday was spent with dos gringos, pistaccio ice cream, green tomato curry, and a whole lotta buffy.

we finally made it to the singing episode and nearly had an aneurism when spike and buffy got together at the end. it was magical, there were birds and rainbows and unicorns.

morning jorge

going (ice/car) camping this weekend. don't know where. i'm imagining somewhere in apalachia. remember that movie wrong turn where they take a (what?) wrong turn (no!) off some backwoods highway and the car breaks down and they become hunted and picked off one by one by these mutant hobos that, from being so very, very inbred, have these superpowers like they eat people and they can't die?




i do. the sequel (dead end!) stars henry rollins too.

i can't stop

they played this at the wedding. and we did the dance. and everything was ok in the world. wipe me ooooooooh. i don't know the words.

this is bat country

leaving for vegas tonight for my best friend from high school's wedding. i have rented a car instead of a hotel room, the former being cheaper, as a security measure for the possibility that i may end up passed out in the parking lot after the reception. i like to be prepared for all contingencies. and by 'contingencies' i mean open bar and the fact that my best friend from high school is getting the fuck married.

you know what they say.








when in vegas... i become a hobo.

geeks like me

ira flatow spoke at politics & prose last night and it was awesome. i sat in the back row taking down notes on my tiny flip pad with a clicky pen like i had a real scoop while my friends pointed and laughed. he talked about the 'dismal state of science journalism today' and how 'smart people are on the internet, while stupid people are on tv.' then he mentioned dinosaurs and my companion shat a brick and i missed a bit, but caught back up as he went into how scientists, if they're the real deal, should and will argue amongst each other. he made a comparision to a press conference with scientists versus politicians and how at a scientific press conference, people will read a report, ask for the facts to back it up, and try to tear apart the argument to see if it holds up. can you imagine saying to a politician, 'just give me the facts, Senator.' why doesn't that ever happen?

then he explained how a plane flies. its really simple = air goes down, plane goes up. write it down. seriously, why couldn't ira flatow have taught my first two semesters of college science? maybe then i wouldn't be trying to explain a marijuana-induced GPA against my subtle yet superior intellect in my grad school essays.

my friend bought his book and we stood in line to have him sign it. she asked if dinosaurs really hallucinated themselves into extinction because the proliferation of angiospores in the environment fucked them all up. i really wanted to ask if he was in that movie 'crazy people' with dudley moore and darryl hannah where he played the one mental patient who only ever said 'hello.' i chickened out and later looked it up on my bberry while we ate pizza at comet.

it wasn't him. it was this guy.





i love that movie.

how it feels

a few quick words about animal collective. from someone else. a long time ago, a friend of mine had a dream where she gave birth to an alien baby that was wrapped up in a head of lettuce like a cabbage patch kid. but in her dream, it was totally normal and all she could think was "you're weird, leaf baby, but i love you." that's pretty much what i thought of the show.

the opening act was the girl from the ring*










who is now apparently going by the name 'tickly feather.'


*not really, its a metaphor.

tonight! science friday!
tomorrow! house of leaves!
thursday! portland pop!
the future! wide open!