the cats have decided to come downstairs. they’ve staked out opposite couches and are intently grooming themselves. it’s like duelling tongues.
and yes, i’m still working on that brief. haven’t moved much from the dining room table all day.
a fever haemorrhagic
with consequences tragic
liquefying tummy
internal organs runny
skin with gooey bubbles
and other icky troubles
grosser than schistosomiasis,
the plague or oncocerchiasis,
ebola’s nasty
as diseases go,
but you’re probably safe if you stay away
from reston, gabon, or congo
*ahem* amazing what you dig up when you start deleting e-mails from the sentmail folder. (this ditty was dated 12/28/01)
You are the French knights. A crazy bunch with
outrageous accents, you enjoy hurling strange
insults at others and throwing various items at
whoever may be outside the castle.
Which Monty Python’s Quest For the Holy Grail character are you?
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i first heard a rollins spoken word performance ten years ago this month, traveling across europe during spring break of my senior year with a college friend and two acquaintances.
the boxed life was probably one of the only things that kept us from killing each other, four people and all their gear smashed into gina, a peugeot 3-door hatchback.
he was angry. he was raw. he was 32.
the man onstage at the 9:30 last night was not angry, not really. oh, he’s still got issues — his mortality, fear of abandonment (specifically from women), etc. but over a decade of spoken word therapy in front of adoring audiences has softened him. anger didn’t seem to spew from him as it did a decade ago; rather, he tapped into the well and presented it to the audience with practiced irony. “i’m not angry at you,” he said. “i’m angry for you.”
has been brought to you by jay’s twisted goth mind.
i’m tellin’ ya, if this keeps up, i’m making him into mittens for my roommate.
patrick mcdonell must have one of porter’s littermates.
love ‘em. what can i say. especially mooch, who bears a striking resemblance to my cat porter. right down to the completely dumb look in his eyes.
so all of y’all out there who don’t particularly care for mutts, suck it up. they’re the best thing since calvin & hobbes.
now if only they could make maimed snowmen…
