Messages and collaborations

Consider the chances of what kinds of music videos will seem better as more voices get heard and time goes on. Will fantasy or truth be more powerful? 3 guys and one girl made this I'll Do Whatever U Like video; it does not thrill me, because I cannot buy into the fantasy. I hate the first 30 seconds, especially. To me, this shaky Me and a Gun video, or even this one of Tori and "Pip," while not most suited for some people, is better.
In this version of Cruel, she makes the Nine Inch Nails concert that I attended in highschool look like a tranquil experience. This too.

For future reference

because I will be able to listen to them on another computer:
"las mujeres" playlist
sexy christmas music
F--- you, flash player non-compatible with Mac OS X 10.3.9

Also, you know

Kind of in my mind over the last 24 hours or so:
Fire To Your Plain
Invincible-Metro Times
Sledgehammer

What was rustling in the woods tonight?

A: Magnificent winter deer with incredibly huge antlers.

Hopefully still around...

I need to find my old childhood photos. I just realized that they are not in the tin that I thought they were in. This gave me kind of a bad butterfly, icy-feeling-in-the-chest feeling. But surely they are still around!

Strangest 4 of an album

(To me, on Monday morning.)
Give, Fast Horse, Lady In Blue, Starling

It's like, one of those cool songs...

Found one today! Ropes (Invincible feat. Tiombe Lockhart)

Yesterday & tomorrow & today

Yesterday my roommate and I saw Bob Dylan. Dear god, his voice. I didn't want to be one of those people who get negative...however, at one point I thought that labor would be less painful. Not that I know. Maybe I thought that because all these women I know are having babies lately. Anyways. The man contributed much to our culture. Probably he was too stubborn to ever do anything to preserve his vocal cords. He is also still very good on the harmonica. And those were usually my favorite parts on the setlist. Despite my nose telling me that someone was smoking at some point, I didn't see any lighters but people held up cellphones and took pictures. Also as the voice was getting to me, I kept feeling like I was looking at a bunch of guys who wanted to be like the Blues Brothers and having a feminist moment, because whenever I've gone to a show, it's almost never for a female performer. My friend and I made a list on the phone of all the successful women in music and now I have to go to one of their shows.
Tomorrow night I have tentative plans to go to DC and not work.
Today I bought the proper kind of premixed engine coolant and will pour it into my car at some point. I also bought pfeffernuse and ate some dipped in wine, per the directions on the box.

The cold season

"The cold season was the correct time for telling stories."
(Page 5 of The Last Algonquin, a library book I read a few years ago when I was living in Michigan.) A little known book, it has 15 reviews on amazon.com and each one gives it 5 stars. How often does that happen?

Saturday evening events

Watching my friend's youtube channel. Carrying either a spice cake or marzipan stollen with candles stuck in it into a livingroom and singing Happy Birthday. Singing/reciting "I'm On A Boat" on autotune like karaoke. (The best line was I f***** a mermaiiiid.) Finding out that there is something called "Four square" which is like some kind of community city exploration thing. Too much cake, drink and food consumed. Single but impressively long tear running down cheek. Tired. Body needs to sleep.

Not shorter

Then I watched Jon Stewart and was like, hmmmm, what is up with the drawing of Glenn Beck's internal organs. And, I am not fooling my pancreas. I consumed a lot of a sugar-laden chocolate product in a very short amount of time, then tried to make up for it by eating an apple. Earlier, I'd waxed all rhapsodic to myself about drinking the last dregs of a bottle of cheap wine as I ate a chili-like concoction that did not delight my tastebuds. I admired the clouds and stars of the night sky on a balcony. There is still a record store in the suburbs where kids burn patchouli and act too cool but are (I just know! I just feel!) still so naively (and beautifully!) open to life experiences in a way that people my age who are obsessed with mortgages do not seem to be. Maybe they are the childish ones, and the youth and mid-life crisis people actually have more in common with each other and are in a wiser zone? I thought. Eh, maybe.

Short

Last night I woke as if from a very scary dream, but all it was about was one girl saying about another "I think she is scary." Maybe I am sensitive to some things. I was running around today with an abnormal amount of stress. I also think that Thanksgiving will be interesting with my new bro-in-law (a veteran), very hyper guy who sometimes seems to have a different sense of humor. Like the time he pretended to run me down in his car in a parking lot. I did not at all find it funny. Maybe it is due to a childhood in foster homes, or being sent to a war overseas and picking up the body parts of his friends. I suppose that might mess with your sense of reality. I also hope people will contemplate the mental health issues of human beings who deal with war. However, my belief is that this one should not get more press than all the copious instances of violence against women on bases and overseas that are connected with war.

Hoy Dia

Kind of me duele mi cabeza right now... I participated in a little dance recital for the first time since I was like, two or something. My friend called me while she was driving to say she put in a tape and heard her voice talking to me on it; she made it for me years ago because an Oprah show on past lives had come on, and then she drove by a sign for my old college. So she just had to call to tell me. Today I began reading a new book, Falconer on the Edge. A woman in my dance class who teaches English to 8th graders told me that Jean Craighead George, who wrote My Side of the Mountain (funny, I was thinking of that book lately), knew something about that topic. Thinking, thinking, thinking... Hmmm. On the other hand, perhaps it is good to indulge in other things? Oh, that word. "Indulge." Scratch that. It sounds like eating a bunch of chocolate. Right now, I'm talking about doing things to take care of oneself mentally and physically, and perhaps steering clear of too many doctors' bills in the winter. How about starting out with doing nothing but lying quietly, breathing, and maybe a simple head massage. Bye, glowing headache screen. Bye, rambling hodge podge, mish mish of words!!! Good. Night.

It was a dark and stormy night...

Maybe if I get one soon I will post a photo or two. After I drove out to Prince William Forest in an intimidating rainstorm, I arrived at the mess hall with a disco ball. Spent the obligatory 1st hour of shyness, sitting in the corner, playing with beads, consuming edibles and punch. Then I talked to a dude who went to a "rival elementary school" of the elementary schools I went to in Renton. I told him to read I'm Down. And he will! He so totally will. The friend he came with met my friend (who came dressed as a tsunami) in Malcolm X park and is Mr. Nadar's assistant or something. Also, I discovered: I am pretty good at hula hooping! Many of us slept in bunks that night and had lunch together at the twins' parents' house the next day. (Where the fiestas are usually held.) On the way home, the clouds over Manassas were white and flat, yet just a bit bunchy in some areas, like upside-down snow covered hills. Ah, Nordic saga weather...

Plants and stuff

Whoa, it was sort of crazy that when I typed "spearmint tea" in the search engine, this article was the first to come up. And then reading the ensuing Tragic Chorus of comments below it, many seeming to come from teenage girls. And wondering, does it make any difference in certain individuals if now there are more pollutants in the environment. And will it continue, and what to do? I think I'll go reread Behaving...

Me, my song misreadings

For Liquid Diamonds, towards the end, I'd sing: "I go inside a shell."

Les movies

My two most favorite are probably Central Station and Howards End. But yesterday, the TV was on, and I was sort of getting into Catch Me If You Can. I remember how, when I first saw it, I could NOT stop thinking of Bill Schroeder. (Sometimes--actually it happened this weekend--when people ask about the pronounciation of my last name, I start to say I don't know why, but sometimes "oe" is pronounced like "a" and I cite the name "Schroeder" as an example.) Such were the impressions, somehow imprinted on my funny little brain, at an early, early age. Oh, B.S., how like and yet unlike ol' Thoreau (at least, later I came to think) you were. Absolutely transfixed by accounts like these, I once was.