So I've started to do a blog that updates regularly with Webcomics, since I don't have a life that's really any better than making jokes at my computer.
Literary Vaudeville
So there you have it. There's only one comic up there right now, cause I'll update usually around 12AM PST on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. You know; because MWF is a lame update schedule. Possibly could change to M-F, depending on how much I get done. Currently, I have 15 already set up to go, just not sure where we'll go from there.
PEACE.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
A few short things that I've come to like:
I do not find peace, and I do not want to make war,
And I fear and I hope, and I burn and I am of ice,
And I fly above the sky and I lie on the ground,
And I grasp nothing and I embrace the whole world.
Someone has me in prison who neither sets me free nor locks me in,
Neither keeps me for himself nor undoes the bonds,
And Love does not kill me and does not unchain me,
He neither wants me alive nor draws from the tangle.
I see without eyes, and I cry without a tongue,
And I long to die and I ask for help,
And I hate myself and love another.
I feed on pain, weeping I laugh,
Death and life displease me equally.
I am in this state, Lady, because of you.
-Petrarch; from Rime Sparse
"It is not too much to say that whoever wishes to become a truly moral human being (and let us not ask whether or not this is possible; I think we must believe that it is possible) must first divorce himself from all the prohibitions, crimes, and hypocricies of the Christian church. If the concept of God has any validity or any use, it can only be to make us larger, freer, and more loving. If God cannot do this, then it is time we got rid of Him.
-James Baldwin, from The Fire Next Time
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give back the sneer and say to them:Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
-Carl Sandburg, from "Chicago"
No matter what I'm reading, usually, it's good to be reading again.
Last night, in a fit of boredom and self-pity and sorrow, Amanda and I decided that, instead of talking about how lonely we are and how little we get out, that we should go somewhere and get drunk. We went to the Whip, an expensive yet delicious bar on Main and Broadway. Two whiskey sours and five beers between the three of us, with nothing but a slice of pizza per stomach, was enough to knock us out of the funk we were in, and it ended up being a good evening, in a sad sort of way. Of course, I left my credit card at the bar and had to come back and get it today, and I have a tiny bruise on my head from when, at 5 AM after getting some water, somewhat concussed myself and ended up passed out on a floor that I didn't even know was my own. Whoda thunk. I missed having blackouts, it brought out the best in me. Really. All those times of waking up in a pool of my own nose-blood, stars dancing in front of me, wondering if I was, perhaps, blind, or that my spine had given way and that's why I felt no pain. Searching the room with my hands, dragging my blankets to the floor with me because that was the most comfortable place I could possibly be, waking up in the morning in a tangle of sheets and drool to discover that during my time of no remembering, I had either placed or answered several phone calls from numbers I hadn't recognized, and also had the time to sketch a pretty accurate looking bird in charcoal that had since been spread all over my face, wondering how I had gotten into my room, because I was pretty sure that I was still in England, then exclaiming out loud "I didn't throw up at all!" before spilling water all over my front as the hand that held the water glass had fallen asleep due to me sleeping on the floor.
I've become better and better at handling hangovers. If they're hard alcohol, well, not so much; but still, I'm not knocked out or sick for a whole day. I wake up with a headache, put on my sunglasses if it's too bright and take a few Advil, and by the afternoon I'm right as rain, with the occasional ringing in the ears.
Now I know I have work to do, but I'd much rather write. Write what? No clue. I'll get back to you on that one.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Done done done done done done done done done done done done done done done done done done done done....
With chapter one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one.
And here's the first paragraph:
"His mouth was full of the salt in the air, he could feel sand rolling around in his shoes. The sun was violently bright, but no one else seemed to mind; they walked about with wide hats and dark glasses, lips held open in laughter. he hated all of them, simply for annoyance. It was early May, and Atlantic City was wearing short pants and a cap, while Michael Shea was wearing a gray suit with a black tie. He could feel his shirt sticking to his armpits. The air was damp and hard to breathe. His face was flushing. He was miserable."
Yeaaaaah, boy. FINISHED. And satisfied. And FINISHED. Now I only have like....thirty-eight more to go. But seriously. HA. Screw you, actual schoolwork.
And here's the first paragraph:
"His mouth was full of the salt in the air, he could feel sand rolling around in his shoes. The sun was violently bright, but no one else seemed to mind; they walked about with wide hats and dark glasses, lips held open in laughter. he hated all of them, simply for annoyance. It was early May, and Atlantic City was wearing short pants and a cap, while Michael Shea was wearing a gray suit with a black tie. He could feel his shirt sticking to his armpits. The air was damp and hard to breathe. His face was flushing. He was miserable."
Yeaaaaah, boy. FINISHED. And satisfied. And FINISHED. Now I only have like....thirty-eight more to go. But seriously. HA. Screw you, actual schoolwork.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Splits apart like a jaw, like an eye
"Um, I'm thinking...that a lot of my internal conflict and malaise comes from the tension between the life i ACTUALLY want to live, and the stories I'd love to be able to tell?"
Thanks for that, Dino Comics. Thanks for saying what's true inside of me.
Writing is going so slow. It's like I care, but I get so distracted. I need, for instance, to not talk to people online, or be connected to the internet. And I know these things are bad for me, but I do them. Why? Why did I waste a whole weekend reading Anne Of Green Gables and Carl Sandburg and watching videos of Disney World attractions and episode after episode of "30 Rock" and "Carnivàle" and a little of the first season of "Mad Men"?
Okay, the books were for class credit. But the shows? The endless WikiHopping through articles about the films that I'm watching this year? Damned internet. Distraction.
Oh and I saw Okkervil River and it was amazingly good, and I feel like I'm five years younger and freaking out as a fan, but seriously, Black Sheep Boy changed the way that I listen to music and look at storytelling, and a pretty good portion of how I look at life, so when I was standing there in that crowd of Vancouver Hipsters and trying my best to be cool, I decided, fuck it, I love this band. So I was all crazy and singing along, like I was atmy very own version of what it must be like going to a Miley Cyrus show, only this cost twenty bucks and I had beer and I almost cried at certain moments.
Suck it, Hipster Vancouver. Stand there looking cool and talk about your bicycles and your organic choices and your cigarettes and what the next tattoo of a bird you're going to get, and enjoy the fact that you'll never be able to really enjoy something like a concert, because enjoyment comes from the heart, and you don't want to do that, because then you wouldn't be ironic. Go break up with your girlfriend and drink fake absinthe, go drop out of school and work at American Apparel and blow your money on shit you don't need. Call yourself a socialist, even though you're a cog in capitalism, and it gets you off.
That rant went nowhere. I need to get back to work.
Also, my American Poetry professor keeps pissing me off. And my landlord is insane. And there's not much I can do to help myself in either situation.
But I'm going home in about three weeks and can do lots of wonderful things. Swan Lake!
Thanks for that, Dino Comics. Thanks for saying what's true inside of me.
Writing is going so slow. It's like I care, but I get so distracted. I need, for instance, to not talk to people online, or be connected to the internet. And I know these things are bad for me, but I do them. Why? Why did I waste a whole weekend reading Anne Of Green Gables and Carl Sandburg and watching videos of Disney World attractions and episode after episode of "30 Rock" and "Carnivàle" and a little of the first season of "Mad Men"?
Okay, the books were for class credit. But the shows? The endless WikiHopping through articles about the films that I'm watching this year? Damned internet. Distraction.
Oh and I saw Okkervil River and it was amazingly good, and I feel like I'm five years younger and freaking out as a fan, but seriously, Black Sheep Boy changed the way that I listen to music and look at storytelling, and a pretty good portion of how I look at life, so when I was standing there in that crowd of Vancouver Hipsters and trying my best to be cool, I decided, fuck it, I love this band. So I was all crazy and singing along, like I was atmy very own version of what it must be like going to a Miley Cyrus show, only this cost twenty bucks and I had beer and I almost cried at certain moments.
Suck it, Hipster Vancouver. Stand there looking cool and talk about your bicycles and your organic choices and your cigarettes and what the next tattoo of a bird you're going to get, and enjoy the fact that you'll never be able to really enjoy something like a concert, because enjoyment comes from the heart, and you don't want to do that, because then you wouldn't be ironic. Go break up with your girlfriend and drink fake absinthe, go drop out of school and work at American Apparel and blow your money on shit you don't need. Call yourself a socialist, even though you're a cog in capitalism, and it gets you off.
That rant went nowhere. I need to get back to work.
Also, my American Poetry professor keeps pissing me off. And my landlord is insane. And there's not much I can do to help myself in either situation.
But I'm going home in about three weeks and can do lots of wonderful things. Swan Lake!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
With a hey na nonny and a hot cha cha
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
For some reason I can't get myself in the mood to read anything, which is weird. Edmund Spenser? Meh. Geoffrey Chaucer? Blah. Walt Whittman? No, but thanks. L.M. Montgomery? Okay, but only because Anne of Green Gables is the most eager-to-please book I've ever read. Seriously, how did I go through my childhood without such happiness?
Oh. Right.
Watched Duck Soup this Monday in film studies, and I have to say that I was mildly disappointed. I was expecting subtlety and sarcasm, but what I got was puns and canned dialogue, and Harpo Marx giving me nightmares. Like, really, he's scary as shit. And I don't even know why Zeppo is there. Probably just to look hot. And all four Marxes seem, er, bored.
But apparently they were really mad at Paramount, so that might have something to do with it. Still, I can appreciate what it was going for, but as far as old Hollywood comedies are concerned, I prefer things like Some Like It Hot or stuff with Cary Grant in it. The thing about the Marx brothers, especially Groucho, is that they were great at one liners. The funny thing about one liners is that they are one liners, and having an entire movie of them is a bit like overkill.
The week before that was King Kong, which was the most fun that I've had in the movies in a long time; even though it is obviously dated, I was a bit astonished by the special effects (given that they looked so good for 1933) and, though the script was beyond laughable, it said a lot about what the climate was like then, between the film business itself and, perhaps, the real world. And oh my god it was sexist and racist, which oh my god was totally awful. But it also made me laugh.
And I now have a thing for Fay Wray that is a serious thing for Fay Wray.
In other news, I'm still trying–trying–to write a goddamn novel. I'm going like two paragraphs per night, and though it's good, it feels so sluggish. I think I want to take Saturday to myself for the most part to write and read in the evening, and maybe Sunday too if I have to; though I promised my mom I would go job searching at some point. Soon.
Concert tomorrow. The Book Of The Duchess tonight. Soon I'll be able to write a blog in Middle English (blogge? Blagge?)
Monday, September 8, 2008
We worship an awesome god in the blue states, and we've got some gay friends in the red states
I'll get this out of the way before this turns into the "Sarah Palin is the Worst Thing Ever Blog". Here's my ultimatum thought on the matter:
With the choice of Sarah Palin as his running mate, John McCain has finally shown what this election is all about: the true, honest-to-god intelligence of the American people.
Look, we can't agree on the same things with a lot of these issues. For example, I would say that investing in tons of solar and wind energy over the next ten years is the most important thing to lead to energy independence, others will argue that offshore drilling or opening up Alaska will immediately fix the problem, as well as lower the cost of gas at the pump. I could tell you that allowing a woman to choose what she feels is right for her body and the pregnancy that she might not want is constitutional and has nothing to do with whether you think that life begins at birth or conception, others would say without a doubt that allowing abortion is the same as allowing murder and perpetuating death. I say tax big business, they say cut taxes for the wealthy to boost the economy. I say get out of Iraq now, they say if we leave we surrender, and we are close to a victory. Fine. Whatever. We don't agree, and seldom do people change their minds about certain issues in a matter of months. And as much as I want an election to be about the issues, it's really about the people, sad as that is. I mean, the Democrats always stand for the same things, same as the Republicans. Boys will be boys.
But whether red or blue, old hat conservative or young liberal, we can all agree on one thing: liars in public office suck. They do. Nixon sucked. Bush sucks. And yes, for a little while there, Clinton sucked. They lied on television, they lied to the American people who (at least the majority of which) elected them, they lied to the fucking constitution. Liars. Suck.
And it's not so much that McCain has been a serious liar. True, he's a hypocrite and no longer deserves that pretty little "Maverick" label that's got people so jazzed for god knows why. True, he won't really change anything, and he hasn't really said that he would change anything except getting those damned do-nothing congress people out...despite the fact that he's been part of the Republican filibuster that's been blocking anything from being done in the past two years. But I mean, he's not that bad. He's old, cut him some slack, he forgets things about, you know, policy. But he could still be president!
Palin, though. PALIN. There's a liar for you. Like really, she lies about things. Not just in her attacks on Obama. But in her commendations of herself: the bridge to nowhere. Being anti-earmarks. Being a reformer. Being progressive. Getting rid of the old boy's club. Lie lie lie lie lie.
And it goes beyond that. Look: I want terribly to see a woman in the white house. But this is what I stand for, as a woman (and, god knows, a feminist):
Pro-equal pay, pro-choice, anti-assault weapons, pro-gay, anti-war, pro-first amendment, pro-public education, anti-big business, green, environmentalist.
Here's what the McCain/Palin camp seems to spout so far:
No mention of equal pay for equal work, pro-life, pro-gun, anti-gay rights, war hawking, censoring, vouchers instead of public school, tax cuts for big oil and big business, more drilling for oil, less plans for efficiency and green energy, and drilling in the environmentally threatened Alaska Wildlife Refuge and off the coast of Florida.
So there you have it: having a woman on the ticket doesn't really seem to be doing anything for women.
Also she's a liar. Outright.
So here's what I say it comes down to: if McCain, after his pick o' Palin, wins, then Americans are stupid. If he loses, then they're smart. Not because of the issues, but because of the people that they would be voting into office. That's my final worrrrrd.
With the choice of Sarah Palin as his running mate, John McCain has finally shown what this election is all about: the true, honest-to-god intelligence of the American people.
Look, we can't agree on the same things with a lot of these issues. For example, I would say that investing in tons of solar and wind energy over the next ten years is the most important thing to lead to energy independence, others will argue that offshore drilling or opening up Alaska will immediately fix the problem, as well as lower the cost of gas at the pump. I could tell you that allowing a woman to choose what she feels is right for her body and the pregnancy that she might not want is constitutional and has nothing to do with whether you think that life begins at birth or conception, others would say without a doubt that allowing abortion is the same as allowing murder and perpetuating death. I say tax big business, they say cut taxes for the wealthy to boost the economy. I say get out of Iraq now, they say if we leave we surrender, and we are close to a victory. Fine. Whatever. We don't agree, and seldom do people change their minds about certain issues in a matter of months. And as much as I want an election to be about the issues, it's really about the people, sad as that is. I mean, the Democrats always stand for the same things, same as the Republicans. Boys will be boys.
But whether red or blue, old hat conservative or young liberal, we can all agree on one thing: liars in public office suck. They do. Nixon sucked. Bush sucks. And yes, for a little while there, Clinton sucked. They lied on television, they lied to the American people who (at least the majority of which) elected them, they lied to the fucking constitution. Liars. Suck.
And it's not so much that McCain has been a serious liar. True, he's a hypocrite and no longer deserves that pretty little "Maverick" label that's got people so jazzed for god knows why. True, he won't really change anything, and he hasn't really said that he would change anything except getting those damned do-nothing congress people out...despite the fact that he's been part of the Republican filibuster that's been blocking anything from being done in the past two years. But I mean, he's not that bad. He's old, cut him some slack, he forgets things about, you know, policy. But he could still be president!
Palin, though. PALIN. There's a liar for you. Like really, she lies about things. Not just in her attacks on Obama. But in her commendations of herself: the bridge to nowhere. Being anti-earmarks. Being a reformer. Being progressive. Getting rid of the old boy's club. Lie lie lie lie lie.
And it goes beyond that. Look: I want terribly to see a woman in the white house. But this is what I stand for, as a woman (and, god knows, a feminist):
Pro-equal pay, pro-choice, anti-assault weapons, pro-gay, anti-war, pro-first amendment, pro-public education, anti-big business, green, environmentalist.
Here's what the McCain/Palin camp seems to spout so far:
No mention of equal pay for equal work, pro-life, pro-gun, anti-gay rights, war hawking, censoring, vouchers instead of public school, tax cuts for big oil and big business, more drilling for oil, less plans for efficiency and green energy, and drilling in the environmentally threatened Alaska Wildlife Refuge and off the coast of Florida.
So there you have it: having a woman on the ticket doesn't really seem to be doing anything for women.
Also she's a liar. Outright.
So here's what I say it comes down to: if McCain, after his pick o' Palin, wins, then Americans are stupid. If he loses, then they're smart. Not because of the issues, but because of the people that they would be voting into office. That's my final worrrrrd.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
laugh, for life's not a paragraph
Okkervil River tickets: CHECK. Finally going, and it's next Thursday, and I'm excited excited excited. Also, I'm fully moved into my place, meaning that there is stuff on my walls and I'm mostly settled in. Always do your dishes, clean the bathroom on Tuesdays, keep the door open to let in light. All that and a few other things.
I'll get by.
Classes! I haven't gone to Hollywood cinema yet, but I know the prof, so it's going to rule. Other ones: Chaucer yay, American Poetry meh (prof is dry), Children's lit yay, Ovid meh (again, prof is dry). Here's what my reading is looking like right now:
Chaucer: Troilus and Crysede
Am. Poetry: Walt Whitman: Song of Myself
Chil. Lit: The Secret Garden
Ovid: Metamorphoses, Book I
Haven't really read a lot of any of those. Luckily, the classes are big enough that I don't have to push myself to get all my reading done by a certain time. Also, the schedule seems put together well enough that I won't have any Weeks of Death this semester, so far as I know. Of course there will be stuff for film, but I enjoy writing that so dang much that it really doesn't worry me. Hell, I wrote like 15 pages for my final last year. This is gonna be enjoyable pie. A la mode.
Oh yeah, E.E. Cummings:
if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one
one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one's everyanything so
so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now
now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we
we're everything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one
I don't know if I've put that one up before, but there you go. My second favorite poem ever (my favorite being "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot, which is too long to post here. Enjoy! Goodnight!
I'll get by.
Classes! I haven't gone to Hollywood cinema yet, but I know the prof, so it's going to rule. Other ones: Chaucer yay, American Poetry meh (prof is dry), Children's lit yay, Ovid meh (again, prof is dry). Here's what my reading is looking like right now:
Chaucer: Troilus and Crysede
Am. Poetry: Walt Whitman: Song of Myself
Chil. Lit: The Secret Garden
Ovid: Metamorphoses, Book I
Haven't really read a lot of any of those. Luckily, the classes are big enough that I don't have to push myself to get all my reading done by a certain time. Also, the schedule seems put together well enough that I won't have any Weeks of Death this semester, so far as I know. Of course there will be stuff for film, but I enjoy writing that so dang much that it really doesn't worry me. Hell, I wrote like 15 pages for my final last year. This is gonna be enjoyable pie. A la mode.
Oh yeah, E.E. Cummings:
if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one
one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one's everyanything so
so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now
now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we
we're everything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one
I don't know if I've put that one up before, but there you go. My second favorite poem ever (my favorite being "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot, which is too long to post here. Enjoy! Goodnight!
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