This whole "all the boy bands everywhere from all time were molested" thing just gets me and makes me think:
1) The Backstreet Boys had to put out to get down.
2) Same as with the Michael Jackson trial, would a prosecutor ask if it was larger than life?
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Posted out and it's the weekend...
I'm posted out. The only material I have in my back-pocket is a long-ass post, and I've just been invited out for drinks, so that shit's going to have to wait through my usual Saturday hiatus till Sunday or whatever.
That said, I've been asking people all day if they know that Nick Carter was molested because of the casting room couch for boy bands, and when I tell them to google "Nick Carter molested New York Post", I don't mention anything about how fat the guy who molested him is, leaving them to be even more repelled by the story. The few people who googled it still had horrified expressions on their faces when I ran into them later, but I figure it's their own impulses punishing them and creating the horror, kind of like that one goldfish-in-a-blender art exhibit from a few years ago (loved it, some of the best modern art I've ever heard of).
That said, I've been asking people all day if they know that Nick Carter was molested because of the casting room couch for boy bands, and when I tell them to google "Nick Carter molested New York Post", I don't mention anything about how fat the guy who molested him is, leaving them to be even more repelled by the story. The few people who googled it still had horrified expressions on their faces when I ran into them later, but I figure it's their own impulses punishing them and creating the horror, kind of like that one goldfish-in-a-blender art exhibit from a few years ago (loved it, some of the best modern art I've ever heard of).
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Germs / Germans.
Today in my Hebrew Bible lecture class I was two minutes late to class, so instead of sitting with my friends towards the front, I had to slip in a desk next to this undergrad, a mousey-haired thing with a clunky wood-bead necklace and a couple ornate silver rings on her fingers. Within two seconds of my settling in, she started pulling out snotty tissues and blowing her nose in them, and then she started to chew with her mouth open the gum that she had been chewing with her mouth closed, and I could just feel the mouth germs floating everywhere. She also leaned her head into her hands a few times, like she was thinking, "I'm so sick, why did I ever come to class?" The entire class I leaned as far away from her as I could.
I guess like last week some grad students were sitting around talking about how when they were kids during the summer their parents used to send them to camp to get rid of them, and this one German ph.d. student who was with them got pale and sat back in his chair and gulped and was like, "Camp?!?"
I guess like last week some grad students were sitting around talking about how when they were kids during the summer their parents used to send them to camp to get rid of them, and this one German ph.d. student who was with them got pale and sat back in his chair and gulped and was like, "Camp?!?"
Close one, farting.
I was sitting outside the main library enjoying the last of the day's sun and having a coffee and a donut and doing some language homework, when a friend passed by and we ended up talking. After she left, I farted, and I felt something slip out, though after I finished up my homework and went to check, a couple probes of toilet paper between my ass cheeks turned up clean, fortunately.
The three times you can sleep with a college freshman:
1) When you're a high school senior.
2) When you're a college freshman.
3) When you're tenured.
2) When you're a college freshman.
3) When you're tenured.
Chapped.
My lips have been chapped this week, so I've been bitching, since I can't remember the last time they were chapped and it just annoys the fuck out of me. However, like two days ago, for some reason my chic black t-shirt was rubbing my nipples and chafing them and causing them to get hard which made them get chafed even more, so that put my chapped lips in perspective, especially when I took off my t-shirt and my nipples were sore and slightly hard and a bright red like a new sunburn.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Dance Dance Dance!!!: Hold / Harrass / Intimidate.
Two weeks ago at dance my friend who suggested lessons, who had been encouraging me to lead more strongly, was smiling her head off after tangoing with this shrimpy little blonde kid since he knew how to lead. When we danced right after that, she made me keep my frame pretty rigid around her, and it actually bothered me -- she's so small, and to dance properly her upper body really couldn't move the way I had her held, and the whole thing just seemed sexually violent, the way I would turn her that way and this way and it was like she had no life or will of her own.
This week we started waltz and cha-cha. I've always found it cute and not un-hot when older women hit on me, but there's a couple of them in the class that always seek me out to dance, and the firmness with which they grasp me makes me want to take a shower, since you just know they're going back home to think about me and touch themselves ad nauseam.
(It's interesting how dance class has taken me from being an abuser to being sexually harrassed... I feel like I can identify better with the range of human experience now, especially that of women. It's like on the days when I'm not quite hung over to the point where I have a headache, but I'm out of sorts all day, and it's almost like having a period, I imagine.)
I can take dance advice from the female dance instructor, but the male dance instructor I somehow feel competitive with and don't take advice as well from because I am somehow intimidated by him, though last night when everyone was waltzing in pairs he was just sitting back on the long laminate-wood folding table where the stereo equipment is set up, swinging his legs under the table and lip-synching to Sinatra's "Try to Remember" to no one in particular.
This week we started waltz and cha-cha. I've always found it cute and not un-hot when older women hit on me, but there's a couple of them in the class that always seek me out to dance, and the firmness with which they grasp me makes me want to take a shower, since you just know they're going back home to think about me and touch themselves ad nauseam.
(It's interesting how dance class has taken me from being an abuser to being sexually harrassed... I feel like I can identify better with the range of human experience now, especially that of women. It's like on the days when I'm not quite hung over to the point where I have a headache, but I'm out of sorts all day, and it's almost like having a period, I imagine.)
I can take dance advice from the female dance instructor, but the male dance instructor I somehow feel competitive with and don't take advice as well from because I am somehow intimidated by him, though last night when everyone was waltzing in pairs he was just sitting back on the long laminate-wood folding table where the stereo equipment is set up, swinging his legs under the table and lip-synching to Sinatra's "Try to Remember" to no one in particular.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Sexual two-fer: Stories.
A friend was saying her friend had a friends-with-benefits arrangement going with a meat carver who lived upstairs from her in her apartment building. I guess the guy used to occasionally tag along to barbecues and bring his knives along.
At the coffee shop Saturday this chunked-up Asian hipster chick was talking loudly about nothing at all, except that she said one interesting thing, that the previous evening she had run into two of her friends on the way to a party and she tried to wheedle an invitation from them, only they were like, "Well, it's actually more of a playful thing for couples..."
At the coffee shop Saturday this chunked-up Asian hipster chick was talking loudly about nothing at all, except that she said one interesting thing, that the previous evening she had run into two of her friends on the way to a party and she tried to wheedle an invitation from them, only they were like, "Well, it's actually more of a playful thing for couples..."
Nation of Islam dietary restrictions.
It's interesting -- the Nation of Islam's dietary restrictions included typical southern foods like catfish and crawdads and pork products like hogsfeet and chitlins, since it saw shedding southern black stereotypes as a key to uplift.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Dream: Return.
This afternoon when I was reading 1st Samuel for my Hebrew Bible class I got to thinking about Samuel raising Saul's spirit and then I suddenly remembered another dream I had last night.
Like five years ago a friend of my dad's died in a house fire, and me and my parents were standing in the living room with my dad's friend's family, only it wasn't the living room of their rebuilt house, it had just drywall and a few nondescript chairs and couch or whatever, though at the time I knew it was their house, and my dad's friend walks in with his wife. At first I didn't say anything since I saw him but somehow didn't notice him, and then after a silence everyone started talking calmly. It turns out that instead of going back into the burning house after making it outside -- he actually did this in real life because of confusion from smoke inhalation -- it turns out that he somehow had wandered off and wasn't the same, and had been living in a nearby town for five years and working menial jobs and not really using his name since he didn't really know it or think about it and somehow he never filed taxes and surfaced on anyone's radar or anything. Somehow he had come back to the family, only he really didn't remember anything. I remember he and my dad went to go to the basement and watch football on the rec room tv down there as they used to, and my dad's friend made some joke, only I could tell that his humor wasn't what it was, it was somehow less than it was and had a dull feel to it, and he really didn't know what he used to do, only he was reading cues from the situation and trying to make everyone think that he was this person everyone else was telling him he was. He and my dad went into the basement and I felt dead inside since everything was different.
After that, I don't remember any more of the dream.
Like five years ago a friend of my dad's died in a house fire, and me and my parents were standing in the living room with my dad's friend's family, only it wasn't the living room of their rebuilt house, it had just drywall and a few nondescript chairs and couch or whatever, though at the time I knew it was their house, and my dad's friend walks in with his wife. At first I didn't say anything since I saw him but somehow didn't notice him, and then after a silence everyone started talking calmly. It turns out that instead of going back into the burning house after making it outside -- he actually did this in real life because of confusion from smoke inhalation -- it turns out that he somehow had wandered off and wasn't the same, and had been living in a nearby town for five years and working menial jobs and not really using his name since he didn't really know it or think about it and somehow he never filed taxes and surfaced on anyone's radar or anything. Somehow he had come back to the family, only he really didn't remember anything. I remember he and my dad went to go to the basement and watch football on the rec room tv down there as they used to, and my dad's friend made some joke, only I could tell that his humor wasn't what it was, it was somehow less than it was and had a dull feel to it, and he really didn't know what he used to do, only he was reading cues from the situation and trying to make everyone think that he was this person everyone else was telling him he was. He and my dad went into the basement and I felt dead inside since everything was different.
After that, I don't remember any more of the dream.
Song / Song.
On Saturday I was at a hipster/yuppie coffee shop listening to the oldies station they had tuned in -- oldies are everywhere here!; I love it -- and as soon as it came on, I realized that Reunion's "Life is a Rock" would be the best karaoke song ever.
I also have been trying to think up dirty lyrics to Molly Malone. Here is my best shot, though I need help on the last line:
"In Dublin's Fair City/
Where girls are so pretty/
I first slipped it in/
To sweet Molly Malone.
"In the fishmarket alley/
On pavement so smelly/
I rammed my love-muscle/
[not sure what would come next]."
Ideally, the last lines would somehow have a euphemism for "vagina" that would be somewhat similar to "alive alive-oh".
I also have been trying to think up dirty lyrics to Molly Malone. Here is my best shot, though I need help on the last line:
"In Dublin's Fair City/
Where girls are so pretty/
I first slipped it in/
To sweet Molly Malone.
"In the fishmarket alley/
On pavement so smelly/
I rammed my love-muscle/
[not sure what would come next]."
Ideally, the last lines would somehow have a euphemism for "vagina" that would be somewhat similar to "alive alive-oh".
Dream: Graveyard.
Last night I dreamed I was in a fairly treeless graveyard standing in front of a grave and over to the right of me like two graves down and slightly forward were two mid-30s, tastefully-dressed white women with shoulder-length hair and those semi-circular things you use to hold your hair back, and they were talking about a campaign to have engraved on every gravestone the importance for American culture of genealogy and finding about your past, which measure had already been passed in Oklahoma. I looked over to my right and there was a grizzled cemetary caretaker in a down vest, and I told him that they were Mormons trying to further their pro-genealogy agenda, and when he said he didn't think genealogy was that big deal and that it was actually kind of nice, I started to explain to him how Mormons baptism the dead and that's why they research genealogy, not because of the schmaltzy reverence-for-the-past stuff they wanted engraved on the tombstones.
Then I woke up.
Then I woke up.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Clarification: Me and black people.
I hope no one thinks I'm making fun of black people. I take great pleasure in black culture, but I also really admire it. Even in the ridiculous parts of the A.J. Johnson interview, this deeply-felt idea of community responsibility and uplift pervades every word, something you just don't get in white culture (though is there such a thing?).
A whole heap of blackness (pt. IV of IV): Back at work.
I just saw my (black and in her 60s) friend who mans the guard station at the main library on campus, since she had fallen and broken her ankle and has been out of work for like a month and a half now. She asked me if I had gotten a haircut, and I told her a month ago, but she said the lines were clean, and I told her that I had been keeping the lines clean with a razor ever since she told me about clean lines a few months ago. I then asked her how her ankle was, and she was like, "Oh, it's doing fine, but it sure does mess up my switch."
A whole heap of blackness (pt. III of IV): N'Sight.
From another article in this week's "N'Digo: The Magapaper for the Urbane" that was also unfortunately not put online, this one about a successful black publisher of poetry and literature:
Although it struggles to survive, the moderate success of TWP's authors has kept the company at the head of the pack. The "Covenant," Madhubuti says, has put the company in a position to publish two or three books a week. But he shuns publishing what he labels 'booty call literature,' the salacious paper back titles that mostly are self-published but are among the hottest sellers.
Never heard of that genre before. I wonder where I can get it.
Although it struggles to survive, the moderate success of TWP's authors has kept the company at the head of the pack. The "Covenant," Madhubuti says, has put the company in a position to publish two or three books a week. But he shuns publishing what he labels 'booty call literature,' the salacious paper back titles that mostly are self-published but are among the hottest sellers.
Never heard of that genre before. I wonder where I can get it.
A whole heap of blackness (pt. II of IV): Pulchritude.
From Bonnita Jones's "Pulchritude" column in this week's "N'Digo: The Magapaper for the Urbane":
Greetings & Style-u-tations,
You see her everyday — at work, waiting on the bus, dancing in the clubs, driving with the top down, living the fab life with the girls in Bronzeville, dropping off the kids at daycare, “Miss Popularity” at school, buying groceries or next in line to get her nails done… she may have it all together, but one thing you didn’t know… she’s hooked on weave!
That’s right, she’s a track addict…
Greetings & Style-u-tations,
You see her everyday — at work, waiting on the bus, dancing in the clubs, driving with the top down, living the fab life with the girls in Bronzeville, dropping off the kids at daycare, “Miss Popularity” at school, buying groceries or next in line to get her nails done… she may have it all together, but one thing you didn’t know… she’s hooked on weave!
That’s right, she’s a track addict…
A whole heap of blackness (pt. I of IV): N'Tertainment.
From this week's N'Digo: The Magapaper for the Urbane (oddly, no article up online so I have to type this shit out, though it's totally worth it):
A.J. Johnson is the Hollywood personality you would love to hate, but not hate in a vicious way. Nah. You hate her like you hate your girlfriend who seems to have it all together. And then, of course, there's your love for her. You love her because she's your girl--the one who has always been there, and you know it will always be that way. That's A.J. Johnson. She's as down-to-earth as the girl next door, but has the body of those envy-inducing magazine covers with airbrushed celebrities on them. (Her body isn't fake, though.)
...but the fitness guru and founder of the AJ Zone hasn't always been passionate about living a healthy lifestyle and delighting in its benefits. After losing a few family memeber (including both parents), prematurely to possibly preventable deaths, Johnson decided to make a lifestyle change, and she's encouraging you to do the same...
FOOD IS A MAJOR PART OF THE URBANE CULTURE. CAN YOU REALLY COOK SOUL FOOD WITH NO- AND LOW-FAT INGREDIENTS WITHOUT COMPROMISING THE TASTE?
What's our focus? Is our focus maintaining our culture and cultural habits, or is our focus trying to save our lives? Our cutlure is making us drop dead at 40! We're dying. Gerald LeVert shouldn't be dead.
It may taste different, but is it still tasty? Yes, it is.
Food doesn't have to be our culture. If our culture is killing us, let's start another culture. Let's make riding bikes a part of our culture.
WHAT ARE THE BIGGEST MISCONCEPTIONS OR EXCUSES USED ABOUT STARTING A WEIGHT LOSS PLAN?
"I don't have time. I can't afford a gym membership. My man likes me thick... I have other things to do..."
Because we're living such an unhealthy lifestyle, we're not seeing the signs of what's wrong. Take eating pork, for instance. Many people say when they eat too much pork, they get a headache, so they get used to having a headache. So what if you're having a headache because you have a brain tumor but you're used to having a headache? You won't even recognize the headache as something wrong. You're not heeding the warnings...
LET'S TALK ABOUT A TYPICAL AMERICAN WOMAN: SHE HAS A COUPLE OF CHILDREN, A FULL-TIME JOB, VERY LITTLE PERSONAL TIME, AND A LIMITED BUDGET. SHE CAN'T AFFORD A PERSONAL TRAINER, BUT SHE'S REACHED A POINT IN HER LIFE WHERE SHE KNOWS IF SHE DOESN'T DO SOMETHING, SHE'S LIKELY TO START HAVING MAJOR PROBLEMS. WHAT ARE SIMPLE THINGS SHE CAN DO TO CHANGE HER LIFE?
...Instead of driving to the fast-food place on lunch break, she can walk and get a low-calorie, low-carb, low-fat lunch.
Bad health is a domino effect. It starts with what you feed your system. If my body is trying to deal with a bad relationship and digest a big, juicy steak at the same time, that's a lot. That takes a lot of energy.
Healthy living has a look and a feel, and it's contagious, and it's sexy!
A.J. Johnson is the Hollywood personality you would love to hate, but not hate in a vicious way. Nah. You hate her like you hate your girlfriend who seems to have it all together. And then, of course, there's your love for her. You love her because she's your girl--the one who has always been there, and you know it will always be that way. That's A.J. Johnson. She's as down-to-earth as the girl next door, but has the body of those envy-inducing magazine covers with airbrushed celebrities on them. (Her body isn't fake, though.)
...but the fitness guru and founder of the AJ Zone hasn't always been passionate about living a healthy lifestyle and delighting in its benefits. After losing a few family memeber (including both parents), prematurely to possibly preventable deaths, Johnson decided to make a lifestyle change, and she's encouraging you to do the same...
FOOD IS A MAJOR PART OF THE URBANE CULTURE. CAN YOU REALLY COOK SOUL FOOD WITH NO- AND LOW-FAT INGREDIENTS WITHOUT COMPROMISING THE TASTE?
What's our focus? Is our focus maintaining our culture and cultural habits, or is our focus trying to save our lives? Our cutlure is making us drop dead at 40! We're dying. Gerald LeVert shouldn't be dead.
It may taste different, but is it still tasty? Yes, it is.
Food doesn't have to be our culture. If our culture is killing us, let's start another culture. Let's make riding bikes a part of our culture.
WHAT ARE THE BIGGEST MISCONCEPTIONS OR EXCUSES USED ABOUT STARTING A WEIGHT LOSS PLAN?
"I don't have time. I can't afford a gym membership. My man likes me thick... I have other things to do..."
Because we're living such an unhealthy lifestyle, we're not seeing the signs of what's wrong. Take eating pork, for instance. Many people say when they eat too much pork, they get a headache, so they get used to having a headache. So what if you're having a headache because you have a brain tumor but you're used to having a headache? You won't even recognize the headache as something wrong. You're not heeding the warnings...
LET'S TALK ABOUT A TYPICAL AMERICAN WOMAN: SHE HAS A COUPLE OF CHILDREN, A FULL-TIME JOB, VERY LITTLE PERSONAL TIME, AND A LIMITED BUDGET. SHE CAN'T AFFORD A PERSONAL TRAINER, BUT SHE'S REACHED A POINT IN HER LIFE WHERE SHE KNOWS IF SHE DOESN'T DO SOMETHING, SHE'S LIKELY TO START HAVING MAJOR PROBLEMS. WHAT ARE SIMPLE THINGS SHE CAN DO TO CHANGE HER LIFE?
...Instead of driving to the fast-food place on lunch break, she can walk and get a low-calorie, low-carb, low-fat lunch.
Bad health is a domino effect. It starts with what you feed your system. If my body is trying to deal with a bad relationship and digest a big, juicy steak at the same time, that's a lot. That takes a lot of energy.
Healthy living has a look and a feel, and it's contagious, and it's sexy!
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