The books were gone as of 2:30pm! When I went out for lunch at 12:30pm I moved them onto the free books cart, which had been put out since I had gone into the library in the morning, and that must have given them the necessary visibility for people to see them and pick them up.
I probably won't be posting again till Tuesday -- it's a long weekend, and I've got my walking shoes on.
Friday, August 31, 2007
More Maria Monk for the weekend...
Arno press reprint pp.20-21:
…when I first went to confession, which I did to Father Richards, in the old French church, (since taken down,) I heard nothing improper; and it was not until I had been serveral times, that the priests became more and more bold, and were at length indecent in their conduct when I confessed to them in the Sacristie. This subject I believe is not understood nor suspected among Protestants; and it is not my intention to speak of it very particularly, because it is impossible to do so without saying things both shameful and demoralizing.
I will only say here, that when quite a child, I had from the mouths of the priests at confession what I cannot repeat, with treatment corresponding; and several females in Canada have recently assured me, that they have repeatedly, and indeed regularly, been required to answer the same and other like questions, many of which present to the mind deeds which the most iniquitous and corrupt heart could hardly invent.
The way sections of this are phrased reminds me of parts of the late 19th-c. naughty-books a friend of mine collects.
…when I first went to confession, which I did to Father Richards, in the old French church, (since taken down,) I heard nothing improper; and it was not until I had been serveral times, that the priests became more and more bold, and were at length indecent in their conduct when I confessed to them in the Sacristie. This subject I believe is not understood nor suspected among Protestants; and it is not my intention to speak of it very particularly, because it is impossible to do so without saying things both shameful and demoralizing.
I will only say here, that when quite a child, I had from the mouths of the priests at confession what I cannot repeat, with treatment corresponding; and several females in Canada have recently assured me, that they have repeatedly, and indeed regularly, been required to answer the same and other like questions, many of which present to the mind deeds which the most iniquitous and corrupt heart could hardly invent.
The way sections of this are phrased reminds me of parts of the late 19th-c. naughty-books a friend of mine collects.
More on Toni Tennille...
I was thinking today that you can't really say that Toni Tennille's sassy -- "sassy" is a quality I associate more with black women -- but you can say she's got spunk. "That one's got spunk" can apply to white women, I think, and very appropriately, especially in the case of Toni Tennille, though saying that Toni Tennille's "spunky" makes you think that you just jizzed all over her face and pieces of it are caught in her hair and shit.
Pentefecta of trashy books left out for the weekend...
This morning like 10:15am I left out five hardcovers by Danielle Steele, Dean Koontz, Belva Plain, Sidney Sheldon, and Mary Higgins Clark, only the free bookcart wasn't there, so I just chucked them in the entryway on top of the free local newspapers people always pick up. I guess we'll see if they go.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Traffic direction: direct and helpful.
I went downtown for a movie yesterday and went down a bit early to read outside and relax, but it was getting overcast, so I walked over to the theater a bit early to set up in the zen coffee place there. Traffic was pretty busy, though, and when I went to cross a street the walk light changed to a flashing red "stop!" hand, so I hesitated, but all of a sudden this public transit employee I hadn't noticed before, a four-and-a-half foot tall dark black woman with a big potbelly, stepped out from the opposite curb in the middle of a car that was trying to sneak a righthand turn, stopping it in its tracks, and kept swinging her arm for me to cross and being like, "C'mon baby, c'mon baby."
She did this "c'mon, baby"-thing for some people who came up on the other side, too, but when this 60s-ish white woman with immaculate shoulder-length hair and a flowing, natural-fiber summer dress and an off-the-shoulder canvas beach bag stopped at the curb, she was like, "C'mon princess, you gotta get your [missed the word, something "-ggs" or "-ggers"] on home, there's a storm comin' on," and then she turned to the people behind the white woman and started up the "c'mon, baby"-thing again.
She did this "c'mon, baby"-thing for some people who came up on the other side, too, but when this 60s-ish white woman with immaculate shoulder-length hair and a flowing, natural-fiber summer dress and an off-the-shoulder canvas beach bag stopped at the curb, she was like, "C'mon princess, you gotta get your [missed the word, something "-ggs" or "-ggers"] on home, there's a storm comin' on," and then she turned to the people behind the white woman and started up the "c'mon, baby"-thing again.
Went to a black church near me this past weekend.
On Sunday I went to a big black church near me with the two Spanish academics I've met through the library. We were the only non-black people in the 3500-person congregation, except for an eccentric old white lady who was tucked away in the choir. Everyone greeted each other by saying "Praise the Lord," so people kept saying hi to us and being like, "Praise the Lord!, how are you folks doing today?", or saying hi to their friends and being like, "Praise the Lord!, why, I haven't seen you in forever!"
During the service, the one Spanish academic kept taking notes, and I thought it was about things he wanted to ask questions about later, but at one point he turned to me and showed me his list --
- Heal the World
- We are the World
(Michael Jackson?)
- My Heart Will Go On
He said he was trying to remember the cadences of the gospel songs for later. Both he and his wife were astounded at the altar call and how as everyone was processing out the people who had come up front were baptized by full-body immersion in this tub inset in the wall high above the dais where the minister and the choir, while dressed in white robes and the people who were dunking them wore white too.
Afterwards, we adjourned to the church cafeteria to get lunch, fried chicken with mashed potatos and creamed spinach; the Spaniards got fruit cups for dessert, but I chose the cheesecake. A lady in her mid- to late-60s from the choir who was in line and was talking to us bought us all our meals and we ended up sitting with her.
Right when the woman who treated us sat down, this one black lady ("Tonetta") came up to her and was like, "Hey there girl, you gonna roll tonight?" As it turns out, they go to this one weekly adults-only roller skating session at this rink about twenty streets south and a little west of the church. I asked why adults only, and the woman who treated us was like, "Oh, so you don't have to listen to all that hip-hop the kids listen to."
"Oh," I was like, "So you listen to disco?"
"No," she was like, "Contemporary R&B."
Also, after we had finished up the meal and the lady who had treated us to the meal was giving us a tour of the church offices, it came out in the course of conversation that she had just lost her job.
During the service, the one Spanish academic kept taking notes, and I thought it was about things he wanted to ask questions about later, but at one point he turned to me and showed me his list --
- Heal the World
- We are the World
(Michael Jackson?)
- My Heart Will Go On
He said he was trying to remember the cadences of the gospel songs for later. Both he and his wife were astounded at the altar call and how as everyone was processing out the people who had come up front were baptized by full-body immersion in this tub inset in the wall high above the dais where the minister and the choir, while dressed in white robes and the people who were dunking them wore white too.
Afterwards, we adjourned to the church cafeteria to get lunch, fried chicken with mashed potatos and creamed spinach; the Spaniards got fruit cups for dessert, but I chose the cheesecake. A lady in her mid- to late-60s from the choir who was in line and was talking to us bought us all our meals and we ended up sitting with her.
Right when the woman who treated us sat down, this one black lady ("Tonetta") came up to her and was like, "Hey there girl, you gonna roll tonight?" As it turns out, they go to this one weekly adults-only roller skating session at this rink about twenty streets south and a little west of the church. I asked why adults only, and the woman who treated us was like, "Oh, so you don't have to listen to all that hip-hop the kids listen to."
"Oh," I was like, "So you listen to disco?"
"No," she was like, "Contemporary R&B."
Also, after we had finished up the meal and the lady who had treated us to the meal was giving us a tour of the church offices, it came out in the course of conversation that she had just lost her job.
Dropped off 3 hardcovers around noon...
...including a thriller with the catch-line, "She prays for life. He preys on life."
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
A Maria Monk excerpt: her early education.
I started reading the famous 1836 pseudonymous anti-Catholic work "The Awful Disclosures, by Maria Monk, of the Hotel Dieu Nunnery of Montreal". It's trashtastic. I'm like a 100 pages into it and I can't put it down, which is more than I can say for any book I've ever read from the first half of the 19th century. Here's about her early education (pp. 13-14, 1977 Arno Press Reprint Edition):
I have a distinct recollection of my first entrance into the Nunnery; and the day was an important one in my life, as on it commenced my acquaintance with a Convent… There were about fifty girls in the school, and the nuns professed to teach something of reading, writing, arithmetic, and geography. The methods, however, were very imperfect, and little attention was devoted to them, the time being in a great degree engrossed with lessons in needle-work, which was performed with much skill. The nuns had no very regular parts assigned them in the management of the schools. They were rather rough and unpolished in their manners, often exclaiming, “c’est un menti,” (that’s a lie,) and “mon Dieu,” (my God,) on the most trivial occasions. Their writing was quite poor, and it was not uncommon for them to put a capital letter in the middle of a word. The only book on geography which we studied, was a catechism of geography, from which we learnt by heart a few questions and answers. We were sometimes referred to a map, but it was only to point out Montreal or Quebec, or some other prominent name, while we had no instruction beyond.
The uneducated state of Catholics is a standard point, as well as their veneration of objects and their strict obedience to priests. Maria Monk is all made up, though, but I love the details, like how the nuns who were teaching wrote capital letters in the middle of words.
I have a distinct recollection of my first entrance into the Nunnery; and the day was an important one in my life, as on it commenced my acquaintance with a Convent… There were about fifty girls in the school, and the nuns professed to teach something of reading, writing, arithmetic, and geography. The methods, however, were very imperfect, and little attention was devoted to them, the time being in a great degree engrossed with lessons in needle-work, which was performed with much skill. The nuns had no very regular parts assigned them in the management of the schools. They were rather rough and unpolished in their manners, often exclaiming, “c’est un menti,” (that’s a lie,) and “mon Dieu,” (my God,) on the most trivial occasions. Their writing was quite poor, and it was not uncommon for them to put a capital letter in the middle of a word. The only book on geography which we studied, was a catechism of geography, from which we learnt by heart a few questions and answers. We were sometimes referred to a map, but it was only to point out Montreal or Quebec, or some other prominent name, while we had no instruction beyond.
The uneducated state of Catholics is a standard point, as well as their veneration of objects and their strict obedience to priests. Maria Monk is all made up, though, but I love the details, like how the nuns who were teaching wrote capital letters in the middle of words.
2 of 3 gone!
When I came back from lunch an hour or so ago, 2 of the 3 books I set out were gone, including the one by the national bestselling author of Secret Sins.
Trying out some karaoke on Friday.
There's this one bar right off the main shopping district downtown -- right in the shadow of Nordstrom's, practically! -- that no one ever goes to because it just looks like a filthy gyros place down a backstreet, but if you look very carefully at the sign, it says "gyros and lounge", and if you go back through the front gyros part (no seating), you emerge into this dingy bar with a hard-bitten waitress named Patrice and a killer dish of chili mac served up fresh.
Anyways, I've gone there a few times, and when I was there this last Friday, it was even more wonderful than usual; the owner was in, this Greek guy, so he was sending around pieces of cheese on toothpicks and devilled eggs for free to everyone drinking beer, which I wasn't aware that he did, though it makes perfect sense since Greeks are like that. I guess he does this every night around a certain time when he comes in, only sometimes it's not just cheese and devilled eggs, but also little cocktail weiners or wingdings.
When me and my friend didn't order a third beer, Patrice asked us why, and we said because we were going to see the Hairspray remake, and she started saying how her daughter had to go to that to see Zac Efron and her husband took her that week, but she's not going to go because she loved the original so much. "You just can't replace Warren Beatty," she was like, which confused everyone. Then, though, after a few seconds and a thinking look on his face, the regular sitting near us was like, "You're thinking of Shampoo," and Patrice thought for a second and was like, "Yeah, you're right. I guess I haven't seen Hairspray."
After that, I talked with the regular some more and he started talking about how the good bars downtown got eaten up by tourist places and yuppies and said bar was "a cozy little nest in the middle of all this bullshit." Not only was he trying to get me to call Patrice "Pat Rice", but he also told me that the bar has karaoke on the last Friday of every month, and he gestured to this fat pale guy with a ponytail on a stool down the bar and was like, "See him?, he's a specialist in Jethro Tull."
Anyways, I've gone there a few times, and when I was there this last Friday, it was even more wonderful than usual; the owner was in, this Greek guy, so he was sending around pieces of cheese on toothpicks and devilled eggs for free to everyone drinking beer, which I wasn't aware that he did, though it makes perfect sense since Greeks are like that. I guess he does this every night around a certain time when he comes in, only sometimes it's not just cheese and devilled eggs, but also little cocktail weiners or wingdings.
When me and my friend didn't order a third beer, Patrice asked us why, and we said because we were going to see the Hairspray remake, and she started saying how her daughter had to go to that to see Zac Efron and her husband took her that week, but she's not going to go because she loved the original so much. "You just can't replace Warren Beatty," she was like, which confused everyone. Then, though, after a few seconds and a thinking look on his face, the regular sitting near us was like, "You're thinking of Shampoo," and Patrice thought for a second and was like, "Yeah, you're right. I guess I haven't seen Hairspray."
After that, I talked with the regular some more and he started talking about how the good bars downtown got eaten up by tourist places and yuppies and said bar was "a cozy little nest in the middle of all this bullshit." Not only was he trying to get me to call Patrice "Pat Rice", but he also told me that the bar has karaoke on the last Friday of every month, and he gestured to this fat pale guy with a ponytail on a stool down the bar and was like, "See him?, he's a specialist in Jethro Tull."
Celeberity facial symmetry: Efron, Aguilera.
I've been fascinated by how celebrities overall have more symmetrical faces than normal people, which statistically feeds into their being perceived as more beautiful.
Anyways, when seeing the Hairspray remake last week, I didn't notice Zac Efron's face as being noticeably asymmetrical, but this week's People magazine show Zac Efron's eyes askew (you can see asymmetry in the eyes most easiest, I think).
Interestingly enough, that same issue of People also had a photo that made me notice the malformed eyes of Christina Aguilera (incidentally, a huge fan of Naked Sundays!).
I find it interesting that camera angles and film can make you not notice facial asymmetry.
Anyways, when seeing the Hairspray remake last week, I didn't notice Zac Efron's face as being noticeably asymmetrical, but this week's People magazine show Zac Efron's eyes askew (you can see asymmetry in the eyes most easiest, I think).
Interestingly enough, that same issue of People also had a photo that made me notice the malformed eyes of Christina Aguilera (incidentally, a huge fan of Naked Sundays!).
I find it interesting that camera angles and film can make you not notice facial asymmetry.
E-mail from my mother: Trying so hard to be an involved parent.
Back at the beginning of the summer I wrote up this approx. 1500-word book review for myself that summarizes my take on this one book that seems to cover the topic I might do dissertation work in but is actually pretty darn inadequate, since I always found myself having to go over and over again with people why the book's argumentative framework was seriously flawed.
Anyways, after I did this, I sent the book reviews to my mother, who coudn't get through it past the first page. She told me as she has before that she's happy that I'm happy but she really has never cared for the study of religion ever since she was a kid and her eyes glaze over just thinking about it and she really doesn't want to hear about my studies. But, I was surprised, because in an e-mail last month she said she was going to try to read the book review again. I reminded her of this last week and asked her what she thought, but she didn't know what I was talking about and asked me what book review, so I reminded her which, and she just e-mailed me this:
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....that book review. Actually, I just put it, last nigh [sic], into my bag to take to the cabin. I think I'll tackle it after a few Seagram's.
Anyways, after I did this, I sent the book reviews to my mother, who coudn't get through it past the first page. She told me as she has before that she's happy that I'm happy but she really has never cared for the study of religion ever since she was a kid and her eyes glaze over just thinking about it and she really doesn't want to hear about my studies. But, I was surprised, because in an e-mail last month she said she was going to try to read the book review again. I reminded her of this last week and asked her what she thought, but she didn't know what I was talking about and asked me what book review, so I reminded her which, and she just e-mailed me this:
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....that book review. Actually, I just put it, last nigh [sic], into my bag to take to the cabin. I think I'll tackle it after a few Seagram's.
Will drop off some books shortly...
I forgot to drop off on the way in to the library this morning my two paperbacks (including one by Jasmine Cresswell, "national bestselling author" of Secret Sins) and one hardback. I'll def. drop them off on the free bookcart when I go out for lunch in a few minutes.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
As of 2:15pm, gone!
As of 2:15pm, those books were gone! They might have been gone earlier, but I forgot to check when I left around 12:30pm for lunch.
Met a guy who used to work in public health over the weekend.
He said there was no topping money for AIDS research during the Clinton years. If you were part of any program whatsoever, you were glamorously jetted all over the country for unnecessary meetings. He was part of a CDC program where he had to survey men who had sex in public places and so he used to have to hang out around coin-operated theaters and make himself run nonchalantly into guys and ask them leading questions for survey information like, "So, you come here often?", and, "So, what are you into?". He used to have to try also to find out if they were married or if they knew by sight the other guys that would come to the theaters, and he used to have to gauge by eye their ethnicities for the questionnaires he would fill out afterwards.
I asked him about the ethics of doing this since it didn't seem like they were aware he was a researcher, and he said that according to the government it was all right since it was an ethnographic study and he was doing participant observation, and besides it's not like any guys would ever be cited by name or in an identifiable way in the research.
I asked him about the ethics of doing this since it didn't seem like they were aware he was a researcher, and he said that according to the government it was all right since it was an ethnographic study and he was doing participant observation, and besides it's not like any guys would ever be cited by name or in an identifiable way in the research.
Odd dream chant.
I was to wake up at 6:45am today but after my alarm rung I put it for an hour later, and when I rose out of sleep at 7:45am I had this chant running in my head:
Delicious
Delicious
Kentucky-Fried Nutritious
Honestly.
Delicious
Delicious
Kentucky-Fried Nutritious
Honestly.
It's 10:40am, I put more books out...
A hardcover thriller and a paperback copy of Joann Ross's "A Woman's Heart: a love story inspired by the haunting beauty of the West Irish countryside".
Monday, August 27, 2007
As of 3:30pm-ish...
...the books I put on the bookcart this morning were gone! It heartens me, that serious students can have a love of trash.
Attacked by dogs.
On Friday when I was heading home this black woman from the neighborhood was out walking her two dogs, only instead of having them on a leash that she'd hold, she had them leashed on a three-foot leash connected between their necks and not in any way connected to her.
(I think the idea of it is that they can only run away if they coordinate well, which dogs almost never do.)
A squirrel came down a tree behind me, though, and the dogs bolted for it, one to each side of me, so I threw up my hands and was like, "I'm going to get clotheslined!", and the woman whistled sharply to her dogs and called them back and was like, "They's gonna get a whumpin', that's what's happening."
(I think the idea of it is that they can only run away if they coordinate well, which dogs almost never do.)
A squirrel came down a tree behind me, though, and the dogs bolted for it, one to each side of me, so I threw up my hands and was like, "I'm going to get clotheslined!", and the woman whistled sharply to her dogs and called them back and was like, "They's gonna get a whumpin', that's what's happening."
Was at a hipster bar on Saturday night.
I was at this one hipster bar in a neighborhood that's thankfully far away from me on Saturday night, thankfully far away in the sense that I couldn't stand to live among the hipsters, though not in the sense that I couldn't stand to live among their kindly neighbors, who happen to include many Puerto Ricans, some of whom are given to running reasonably-priced and even quite tasty restaurants.
Anyways, at the hipster bar they served cheap beer in $6 small pitchers that people would buy and drink straight out of -- it's pre-packaged fun! -- but the chunky pierced waitress with dyed pink hair was a space cadet and didn't bring me mine, and when I asked after ten minutes she didn't seem to remember I had ordered anything and they were temporarily out and she made me buy the smaller size, though within two minutes she was brining out small pitchers for other people. I guess they have slightly larger small pitchers that they give to their favorite customers, who mostly seem to be other hipsters who go along with all the posing of the waitresses and their hipster friends without blinking an eye.
Anyhow, there was this live band playing in back, and they opened up with Neil Diamond's "Solitary Man" before going into their own stuff and then doing "Solitary Man" again towards the end of their set. (Neil Diamond has quite the hipster following, which ruins him for me -- it's about the only thing that could.) A bunch of Asians were in the bar for some reason, and my friend noticed it to, and I kept wanting him to ask "Why do you think they're here?" so I could be like, "I don't know, to rock 'n' rorr?", but he never asked me that, saddly.
Anyways, at the hipster bar they served cheap beer in $6 small pitchers that people would buy and drink straight out of -- it's pre-packaged fun! -- but the chunky pierced waitress with dyed pink hair was a space cadet and didn't bring me mine, and when I asked after ten minutes she didn't seem to remember I had ordered anything and they were temporarily out and she made me buy the smaller size, though within two minutes she was brining out small pitchers for other people. I guess they have slightly larger small pitchers that they give to their favorite customers, who mostly seem to be other hipsters who go along with all the posing of the waitresses and their hipster friends without blinking an eye.
Anyhow, there was this live band playing in back, and they opened up with Neil Diamond's "Solitary Man" before going into their own stuff and then doing "Solitary Man" again towards the end of their set. (Neil Diamond has quite the hipster following, which ruins him for me -- it's about the only thing that could.) A bunch of Asians were in the bar for some reason, and my friend noticed it to, and I kept wanting him to ask "Why do you think they're here?" so I could be like, "I don't know, to rock 'n' rorr?", but he never asked me that, saddly.
Saw Hairspray on Friday.
The Hairspray remake completely underwhelmed me. The only bright spot was Penny Pingleton's mother; reviews have tended to like Penny Pingleton and said she stole every scene she was in, but I think her mother was the one who really did that. She captured the serious camp-vibe of the original, which the movie failed to do. The great part about the original Hairspray was not only that it revived all these now-campy dances and songs that were actual dances and songs from the early 1960s, but also that it showed the seriousness which teens and people took these extremely local shows before the advent of cross-country teen danceshows like American Bandstand. Since the Hairspray remake substitued shitty Broadway songs for the former and stuck in shittier songs for the latter, which was straight-up acting mixed in with straight-up dialogue in the original, it had no hopes of recreating the vibe of the original and was the worse-off for that.
As a friend was telling me, all Broadway shows about popular music fail on some level since their music is never as good as the popular music of the time, which shows in how no Broadway music ever crossed over on a big way into the contemporary pop charts. The one exception to that, though, I was thinking, might be three (four? three-and-a-half?) songs from Hair -- the Cowsill's "Hair", Three Dog Night's "Easy to Be Hard", Oliver's "Good Morning Starshine", and the Fifth Dimension's "Age of Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In".
As a friend was telling me, all Broadway shows about popular music fail on some level since their music is never as good as the popular music of the time, which shows in how no Broadway music ever crossed over on a big way into the contemporary pop charts. The one exception to that, though, I was thinking, might be three (four? three-and-a-half?) songs from Hair -- the Cowsill's "Hair", Three Dog Night's "Easy to Be Hard", Oliver's "Good Morning Starshine", and the Fifth Dimension's "Age of Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In".
It's 12:30-ish on Monday: books, bug, profanity.
I just dropped off four paperbacks to the free bookcart in the front of the main library, including Stephen Kings "Eyes of the Dragon" ("Eye of the Dragon"?).
Last night in my Danish Haven when I was sitting on my chrome-and-black upholstery 1950s dining room chair at my brown, tan, and black-formica laminate table with chrome accents and went to open up Jan Shipp's "Mormonism: A New Religious Tradition", which I had had sitting on my lovely dark green 1950s sectional and then on my yellow-and-brown with dark-wood accents chair, in turn, I saw something skitter over the edge. I flipped it over, and saw a baby silverfish, which I then crushed with my thumb. The binding was falling apart, so it might have been eating the glue in there, but I don't know how it ascended all the furniture to get at the book; all the silverfish I've ever seen my entire life have been skittering on the floor.
One day I hope to steal myself enough to insects to be able to crush roaches with my bare hands.
On that note, that reminds me that I once read about this guy in LA who used to put ads out in papers to have women come crush cockroaches with their bare feet or while wearing high heels so he could film them doing that. He called them "crush films", and liked to imagine that he was the bug underneath their feet, and when he'd so identify with the roach and think about his brains coming out the top of his head, he'd blow his load all over the floor, even while filming.
This morning, too, I used the word "wussie". I realized for the first time that it's probably a taboo deformation of "pussie", much like "shoot" is of "shit".
Last night in my Danish Haven when I was sitting on my chrome-and-black upholstery 1950s dining room chair at my brown, tan, and black-formica laminate table with chrome accents and went to open up Jan Shipp's "Mormonism: A New Religious Tradition", which I had had sitting on my lovely dark green 1950s sectional and then on my yellow-and-brown with dark-wood accents chair, in turn, I saw something skitter over the edge. I flipped it over, and saw a baby silverfish, which I then crushed with my thumb. The binding was falling apart, so it might have been eating the glue in there, but I don't know how it ascended all the furniture to get at the book; all the silverfish I've ever seen my entire life have been skittering on the floor.
One day I hope to steal myself enough to insects to be able to crush roaches with my bare hands.
On that note, that reminds me that I once read about this guy in LA who used to put ads out in papers to have women come crush cockroaches with their bare feet or while wearing high heels so he could film them doing that. He called them "crush films", and liked to imagine that he was the bug underneath their feet, and when he'd so identify with the roach and think about his brains coming out the top of his head, he'd blow his load all over the floor, even while filming.
This morning, too, I used the word "wussie". I realized for the first time that it's probably a taboo deformation of "pussie", much like "shoot" is of "shit".
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