3

0

2

0

1

1

1

0

2

8

Gmail doesn't seem to realize

that most of my e-mails are wildly unimportant and don't belong in the "Priority" Inbox, which as far as I'm concerned shows a striking lack of self-awareness on the part of Gmail.

I think at this point

I'm capable of breaking my own heart

(and I just need someone else for leverage)

ugh

ack

hmmph

hmm

hrmph

erg

meh

Finally, an HONEST review

Toy Story 3 is TERRIBLE


Also terrible:

sunshine
candy
baked goods
happiness
smiles

Tonight I asked some mimes

if they had to study hard in the 'mime field'.



And also I shook hands with Jim Gaffigan.

Serious Delirium

Bill Groundhog-Day-Ghostbustin'-Ass Murray

I just pulled

a little cow out of a big cow.

That is all.

If I knew you were capable of being mean

then I'd know you weren't 'just being nice.'

"Going to war without France

is like going deer hunting without an accordion."


This quote is a propos of nothing, and even said by someone I probably don't much like (Jed Babbin, former United States Deputy Undersecretary of Defensen under Bush Jr). Still, I just saw Hotel Rwanda, and I'm feeling negative about the French. I realize that's not the most obvious reaction (the most obvious reaction, of course, is general horror, which I am also feeling; if anybody has any lovely ideas for fixing the world's fundamental flaws, I'll be milling it over for the next couple of days at least). In any case, France is (or at least was, 15 years ago) deplorable, and I think that quote is hilarious, even though I though hating on France because they didn't support us in Iraq was, at the very least, entirely besides the point.

You know what else is entirely besides the point? Hating on France because of what happened in Rwanda. Let's all do something else because of what happened in Rwanda. In the meantime, I'm giving up on this blog post, which can only be made worth a damn if someone puts a generally interesting thought in the comments about Rwanda, what happened, what we could have done about it, what we can do to make sure things like that happen less frequently, what we can do, in general, to make the world a genuinely better place. Being a vegetarian and voting for NPR just isn't doing it for me anymore.

I meant 'donating to NPR' but I'm going to leave it the way it is.

This post is over.

Sub umbra sede

"The Seborghini responded with indifference, and that was that."

I went to the Rainbow

and it made me miss the Harkies.

Y'know, kinda.

One of them (though I don't know if she ever actually lived in Harkness) once told me, from her bicycle, to "watch out for rainbows".



While at Rainbow, I got pretty sick. Maybe that's what she meant.







A special thanks to Kat, who may never read this.

At 11:11 on 11/11

I put 11:11 on my mp3 player.

Not a big thing, but since it wasn't really intentional I thought it was kind of a funny happenstance.




Also, it's a really great album.

I have the blood

of a poorly-slaughtered chicken on my leg.

I don't feel very good about it.

If you see a giant squid monkey

in your toilet or sink, speaking German, you're hallucinating.

Now who wants to go to Pittsburgh?

2

7

...אני בישראל

.אבל עכשיו אני לא רוצה לכתוב

שלום :)

Overheard in line

for a free preview of the newest Woody Allen film, said by one high-schooler to another, lamenting how long the line was and the fact that we probably wouldn't get in:

"Yeah, man, I think he's gotten really popular recently because he's been doing all these serious films..."

for the record

Yes, I am done with that place.

No, it had nothing to do with previous post.

Yes, I am glad to be done.

No, I am not glad to be done.

Yes, it was not my choice.

No, it was going to be.

Yes, I learned something about the fairness of life.

No, it isn't.




Yes, by 'life' I actually mean 'some people'.



Yes, summer. Yes.

made a mistake

at work which, don't get me wrong, is not terribly uncommon, but usually my mistakes fall well within the general cloud of mistake that is my workplace. this mistake rose above, was noticable to one of the only reasonable people i work for/with, and is not good at all.

backtracking. feeling lousy. oh well.

if there is a god

a poem:

if there is a god
god probably doesn't care
if I think there is a god
but god definitely
DEFINITELY
cares if you do
so get on that

W Th F, indeed

bar·bar·i·an (bär-bâr-n)
n.
1. A member of a people considered by those of another nation or group to have a primitive civilization.
2. A fierce, brutal, or cruel person.
3. An insensitive, uncultured person; a boor.

Okay, I felt I needed to link to at least one of these. Not that I need a reason, but she's definitely among my favorite bloggers right now (and not just because she's the only of my actual friends who has managed to continue blogging, but also because it's actually quite good quite often). Also I really like what Thursday equals.

Anyway, Linda Harvey of Mission America (no, I had never heard of her before; yes, from what I can tell she is very very Christian; no, I don't think she realizes that 'Mission America' is probably too broad a title for a very very Christian organization) is deserving of a W Th F? Though Linda's not always wrong. She says, for example, that:

"Parents want something other than barbarians living down the street."

It's true. So, quick message to parents: read the above definition for the word 'barbarians' (especially 2. and 3.), and then, whatever you do, don't buy a house down the street from Linda Harvey.

Too easy?

Okay, so the other reason I decided to mention this here, instead of there...

I recently wrote my first ever letter to an editor, in this case the editor(s) of Salon.com. In their new feature, "Ask a Wingnut", they ask a wingnut questions. The wingnut is an anonymous former Bush official who goes by the name Glenallen Walken, a joyous reference to a West Wing character played by the great John Goodman.

He wrote, most-recently, about gay marriage. It's a topic I have a lot of thoughts about, and I'm always rearing for a good debate, so with a great furvor I began feverishly researching, rebutting, and churning out a letter which I'm actually pretty proud of.

The only problem is that, after I had edited the letter down to under 2000 words (twice the limit on Salon) so that I could post it in two parts, after the furvor died down and the sobriety of having clicked "Submit" set in, I realized that I was arguing into a void. Not just because I won't get a response, but also because Mr. Walken's article is not actually terribly good. So not just a void, a mediocre, somewhat vacuous void. Years ago, during a long discussion with my best friend, we both lamented the fact that there are no genuinely good, interesting, cohesive conservative arguments against gay marriage (that is to say, lamented that there are arguments against without there being any good ones). Recently, I searched around the internet (yes, the internet) for such an article, a good, cohesive argument, and to no avail. Some think there is not such argument, I think there might be; the one I responded to isn't it.

It was a mildly disappointing realization, though ultimately it was not a total waste of my time (I learned, for example, a bit about the intricacies of New Mexico Anti-Discrimination Law). Wingnut Walken isn't a barbarian, really, he's just a blowhard. Still, my realization leads me to this question, even though I kinda already know the answer:

When Linda Harvey speaks, why do we listen?

What do you do with a drunken sailor?

Put him in bed with the captain's daughter.

"Lust conquered shame,

audacity fear,

madness reason."

..

"love is a journey

life is a journey
social organizations are plants
love is war"

"Fifty keels

ploughed the deep."

I'm a genius

and so are you.

From a forward I just received:

"This Chinese Proverb Brings Luck.

It Originated From The Netherlands."

Also, apparently my luck "Will Arrive By Mail Or Via The Internet". All I can say is that, in my experience, luck of any kind coming through the mail or the internet is about as likely as a Chinese Proverb coming from The Netherlands.

Maybe a Chinese person moved to the Netherlands and then wrote the proverb...?

Why I am even still writing about this? Also, if 20 people read this blog, and I give the gist of the message ('money can buy you stuff, but not the really important valuable stuff, y'know like love and stuff') then do I get my luck?

Who am I kidding? If 20 people read this blog, then I will have already received my luck through the internet.

How Zen.




P.S. That thing about money is true; it doesn't buy you love or a real home or time. But it will buy you ice cream, which is extremely yummy.

one of them's got eyes

as big as jolly ranchers

re: Jim's comment

Exactly, Jim. Exactly.

And so...

...I don't know, something else happens.

ugh/oh

I feel this blog has lost steam. At one point, it had a little steam, and now it seems to have lost it. It has been reduced to the occasional complaint, even now about how occasional and pointless it is.

How sad. Well, not that sad...

How about I post a quote from a friend of mine I thought was funny? How about that? I don't think she'd want me to use her name, but she said:

"The default status of mankind is stupidity."

So there that is. I don't entirely disagree, which is to say I don't agree entirely.

Ripped off.

Poster bored.

Ugh.

P.S. Before things get better, they'll get worse. And after things getter better, they'll get worse. But also vice versa, so that's nice.

I realize this has not engendered comments, but go ahead and post one anyway.

I know what you're thinking: "But there's no topic. How can we post a comment with no topic? We're avid readers, but without some sort of a prompt, how can we react in a way that seems pithy and relevant?"

Well, I hear you. So....

PINEAPPLE or MANGO? Which is better?

(There is, by the way, a right answer to this question, and I will reveal it later.)

Here's a fun little game

If you're feeling something, especially something awful but for which there is a common phrase:

Google it. Then read all the trite and cliche remarks people have to say about it, all the opposing viewpoints and advices, all the WikiAnswers.

Feel like you are not special, and your feelings are not special, and you're just another stupid person with some stupid problem, even if it feels like it's filling your world and causing it tear at the seams. Feel pointless. Feel lost.

Feel better (or worse, I'm not sure yet).

Just in case

Hey out there. At this point, I doubt anybody still checks this. But if they do, if you do, I admire your tenacity, or your internet wanderings.

And hi.

Unfortunately I don't have much else to say at the moment. I'm not really feeling very bloggy, I just happened to think of it. When things are calmer, or just different, I bet I'll write some more stuff on here. Right now (and really, I do mean just right now) I don't really feel like it.

I'm a little sad.

An old post made new

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

It is also worth noting that if there is to be or has already been a definitive tribute to the World Trade Center, to the buildings themselves, there are parts of this film which should absolutely be included. But I have already said enough; I think you should see this film.

Except I'll say it again about a different film. Odd but true nonetheless.

It's wonderful, really, truly. And it comes out next week.



And yes, I'm a time-traveller from the future, and this is the most important message I could think to bring.






A special thanks to Catherine Epstein, who may never read this.

I think I'll get rid of my back burner

too many things get burnt.

I seriously just wanted there to be another post

So now there is. And it's boring, and fairly pointless, and I'm not saying that to be self-depricating, it's just true. I'm okay with it.


For those who don't pay attention to details, I changed the sizes of the links on the side. This is because I was adding a link which I wanted there, but I wanted it to seem less important. So then I had to make others seem more important. In this case size does indicate importance, but that is basically just determined by, if the link is to a blog (which most of them are), how much that person seems interested in actually having a blog that is read and says something interesting and new. Or really just new, which is more than good enough for me.

Clearly.

Oddly Oberlincentric

I know that this Blog has become oddly Oberlincentric all of a sudden, when in fact it's not supposed to be centered on anything at all.

Have I been feeling nostalgic? Maybe a little, but not really more than usual. I swear, it was mostly a series of coincidences (or is Oberlin truly entering the realm of the popular...?)

Anyway, please listen to this.

So. The pin's out. I'm looking forward to that seventh-year explosion...

Review

"Still, there was a certain amount of suspense in the air at the screening of 'Made of Honor': Would Tom and Hannah realize they're perfect for each other at the altar, or would I burn down the theater first?"

-Kyle Smith concluding his review of the movie "Made of Honor"

Curioser and curioser

On 30 Rock tonight:

"After my Junior year at Oberlin, we road-tripped to South-by-Southwest"

I'm just saying, twice in one day? On the radio and on the television?

By the way, I believe it was spoken in the episode by Lutz, but the real John Lutz went to Valparaiso University in Indiana (Valparaiso, Indiana, in fact). I wanted to look at their website and say that Oberlin is clearly cooler, but alas I cannot. I'm sure that Oberlin actually is cooler, but Valpo's website (the site URL itself is even a cool abbreviate of the school's name) is actually much better than Oberlin's, what with their interesting building and their double-rainbow.

Damn you, Valpo.

I don't really remember what my point was. Well, anyway, here's something to listen to.

Sometimes I feel

like my past is being stolen by a burglar with a black-and-white striped shirt, a black mask across his eyes, and a waxed-straight mustache. Or maybe it's my future...

But I'm probably just being paranoid. Or nostalgic.


Also, I guess he's wearing a beret or one of those newsboy caps, but it's black. I think he might be French.







If this seems totally random you should probably click the post title.

"I can say 'agua' in Spanish"

Cram Raisin does it again.

In fairness, I am currently high (seriously) on caffeine (a co-worker, thinking he was doing something nice, gave me a coupon for a free Starbucks Fresh Roasted Coffee), so I know the feeling. But her only excuse for the quote above was a slight sugar buzz.

But Cram Raisin doesn't need an excuse to be hilarious.

Because it's funny

"Jason was born in Norway in 1965. Suddenly he spoke to a cat. Winter filled the room. They could see the ocean."

Also, I'm not sure if she meant this this hilariously. But it, too, made me laugh out loud, a little. Plus nothing like Blogging a Blog to, y'know, spice things up.

Once in a while...

Happy Leap Day everybody.

Because...why not?

2008

W000000000000008

Yeah, that's right, it's a New Jersey Fact of the Day

Today, New Jersey became the first state (in a generation) to abolish capital punishment. Beeeeyotches.

Because we're just that good.

Up yours, Texas.

fun.

Waste a little time.





(Play a little flash game).

I know you've been wondering

I was flipping through the TV channels, and I flipped to some action show on CBS just when a car's headlights turned on and it started to drive toward the camera, so that you couldn't really see the driver. And I thought, for a second, 'Man, I wish that car were driving itself, that would automatically make this interesting.'

And that, just to be clear, is what was so great about Knight Rider.

The number of times I have recently seen New Yorkers biking while smoking

is two. So I can say with a fair amount of confidence that I have seen at least two New Yorkers recently who may not realize how ironically crazy they seem. But it's probably a higher number.

Also, on wet pavement my bicycle tires sound like a record left spinning with the needle on.

Incidentally, though seemingly crazy, both smoking cyclists seemed to be very good, experienced cyclists, so in a way it is actually quite impressive.

Finally, the thought has not escaped me that biking in New York, especially during rush hour and on certain streets, is for everyone like biking while smoking, but that just means that those two people were basically biking while smoking two cigarettes at once.



(P.S. This random rant is brought to you by the fact that biking to work is fun.)

On In Rainbows (and Lucy in the Sky with Cubic Zirconia)

Do not wake up early on the morning the download of the new Radiohead album becomes available, hoping to burn it to a CD while you shower so that you can hear it at the first possible moment. Do not skip bike-riding to work, partly for other reasons but partly so that you can listen to the new Radiohead album on the train. Radiohead does not deserve that kind of pressure.

I have come to terms with the idea that Radiohead (new frontiers of marketing notwithstanding) will no longer change my life (as much to do with my life already having changed as with Radiohead), but they can put out a pretty solid album of pretty solid music.


Julie Taymor should have been able to put out a pretty solid movie capturing whatever it is that is so amazing about the Beatles, but instead she produced a sometimes-beautiful but often schizophrenic, overly-nostalgic, and myopic view of a decade that, in the way it is portrayed, probably never really existed. The Vietnam, war, for example, is too glossy, as are the roles of those most effected by it too easily oversimplified or dismissed when the time is right; much the same can be said of the whole plot of the film. The Beatles' songs are shoehorned in (as well as awkward in-joke references to other songs, such as when Saydee asks how Prudence got in, and Jude says 'She came in through the bathroom window.', and strange references to the 60's in general, as when a 'Hendrix' and a 'Joplin' break into the music scene via Beatles songs and then inexplicably reenact some version of the Lennon/McCartney feud), and the songs themselves are often sung (or, in the case of a well-meaning, funny-but-in-the-wrong-context Eddie Izzard, spoken) by the wrong people at the wrong time.

The most effective part of the movie, pretty much the only part which moved me, was that music, and I was quick to rush home and listen to the original, incomparably superior versions.

But maybe that's a little harsh. But maybe not.

I got uncomfortable with having the word 'rape' in the title of my latest blog entry

so I decided to...wait, damn it.

"I am trying to rape the viewer into independence"

-Filmmaker Michael Haneke, in the NYTimes Magazine Article about him, provides that very special Quote of the Day. I have not seen any of his films, but now I really want to (maybe...?), especially his American remake of his own Austrian film. Odd.

It's the good advice that you just can't take

(And who woulda thought, it figerrrs)



Good and obvious advice that I just can't take:

Just close your eyes and jump in.

Sometimes.


You?

Emily did not start a grassroots campaign

for this book her company is publishing, and I am not part of any such campaign.

I just thought it was funny.




A special thanks to Emily, who may never read this.

A Question of Grave Import

Have you ever noticed that often, when you're trying to tear open something in plastic packaging (like, for example, a mustard packet), it has a marker (a little black stripe, or even a 'Tear Here' indicator), but then it turns out to be easier to tear it open somewhere else on the package?

Have you?

Is it just me?

What's up with that?

Your comments are welcome.





A special thanks to "rachel", whose name, which more of my friends have than any other name, gives me so little clue as to which of my friends, if any, she actually is, but whose readership and encouragement I appreciate nonetheless.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we arrive at this moment by the unswerving punctuality of chance"

- By far the greatest Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest Play-by-Play
Announcer I have ever seen

A New Kind of Despair

I had a dream last night in which Barack Obama died. I'm not generally particularly in favor of people dying, but I was still surprised how upset I was. I felt a weird sort of despair regarding the effect it would have on the upcoming primaries. I wasn't upset that Obama wouldn't be the candidate, just that he wouldn't be one of the choices.

Dreams are odd.

Feeding the Machine

Work sucks.

But shredders are fun.




Happy Birthday Cram Raisin.

The 43 Staples

Today, the goal is to turn what is actually only a couple of hours worth of work into a 6 hour day. My boss isn't here and she left me with not really enough work to do, but I still want to have a reason to stay until 5pm.

And it is in that spirit that I have just removed 43 staples, and a few paperclips, from a bundles of papers, all with my eyes closed.

It is also in that spirit that, having completed my task, I counted the staples to find out that there were 43.

Spectacular.

Gee...chat?

Lee is busy. You may be interrupting.

"Kurt is up in heaven now"

THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC


If secular humanism had a Jesus, I think he would be it. Good thing it doesn't, though.

"If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."


RIP KV,Jr.


Hi Ho









A special thanks to Jeremy Medow, Theresa Noll, my mom, and Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., who may never read this.

You Know What I Hate?

Two posts in one day? Surely I must be drunk.

You know what I hate? When you're sweeping something up, and you use a dustpan, and there's a little line of dust that you can't quite get into the dustpan. And you keep sweeping the line up into a little pile, and then you try again, but every time you try there's still that little line of dust in the tiny space between the dustpan and the floor.

I hate that. Can nothing be done? Is the only recourse to just sweet away the tiny line, under a couch or out the door? Are these tiny lines of dust just accumulating everywhere, forever to plague us with a lack of fastidious, OCD-level cleanliness? Has the world gone mad (or was it always that way)?

Your comments are, as always, welcome.

On Principle

Well...

I don't usually comment on the news (this is not a 'political blog') but I feel compelled.

Luckily, I don't really think too much commentary is necessary. Here are three stories I heard, all in a row, on NPR News. I feel there is a theme developing...

President Bush has promised to veto a Congressional funding bill because it requires troop withdrawal by August 2008. In his comments, he expressed his outrage that the Democrats are delaying important emergency funding to the troops who need it.

There is a defendant up for the death penalty in Georgia whose trial is being delayed, for the second time (the first time was one month, this time was six), because the Georgia public defender system is running out of money. The case has so far cost them $1.4 million, and is projected to exceed $2 million.
Relatedly: the Colorado House Judiciary Committee recently voted to replaced the death penalty with life sentences, and will use the money saved (Colorado has spent an estimated $40 million in the last 30 years, and the death penalty has been sentenced thrice in that time) to try and solve the 1200 or so cold-case homicides in that state. It has been suggested that the same could be done in Georgia, but many continue to defend the death penalty.

In Colorado, due to recent measures restricting illegal immigration, there is a shortage of farm workers this season. There is a plan to offer the work to inmates in Colorado prisons, a controversial notion; an alternative, proposed by Bush and others, is a program that would bring in immigrants during the farming season and then, when the seasons ends, remove them.

So: Bush won't let the Democrats let the troops have what they need, unless he can keep them there longer. Georgia will continue trying to kill people who kill people, even if it costs Georgians a whole lot of money (which could actually be used to stop other people from continuing to kill people). And we've gotten rid of a bunch of foreigners who are the only ones willing to do the work we need done (except, of course, for the prisoners we don't want doing the work), and so maybe we'll invite those foreigners back in but then politely ask them to leave when the work gets done.

It can at least be said that many of us here in the US are sticking to our guns (an expression which, unfortunately, I use quite literally).

Okay, so maybe that's a little bit of commentary; I couldn't resist.


P.S. One of my favorites: My favorite people right now: the people who answered the question in my last post. Fewer than I expected, but clearly the best of the best.

I'm feeling bloggy, so I'll blog.

"I wanna frollic scientifically."

How true.

That's a Quote of the Day, and it's Number 4.

I think it's funny, but it's definitely funnier if you know Maggaggie and can imagine her saying it (she was complaining that a friend of hers gets to go do something cool, while she doesn't really know what to do).

Maggaggie is one of many people who, I'm quite sure, don't read this blog. It is my impression that the group of people who don't read this blog is quite large, but how large exactly? How about, just this once (and any other time I feel like it), you post a comment if you are reading this? You don't actually have to say anything, just indicate your name somehow.

Until recently, I was under the impression that these, our little 'network' of 'blogs', were only being read by the people who have blogs (which if true, might I add, makes the whole thing seem slightly solipsistic), but now Cram Raisin's commentacious last entry (yes, that's right Jimijimjim, two can play at that game) has proven me wrong. And that got me wondering.

If you do feel like telling me something, tell me your favorite of something in a unique category. By which I mean, pick a category of things (favorite letter of the alphabet or something) that you think noone else would think to pick (so, for example, not 'favorite letter of the alphabet'), and then tell your favorite of that thing. It's a game I just invented because I'm bored and tired all at once, and, as I mentioned, I'm feeling bloggy.

This is especially ridiculous because I am really just talking about (or I think I am just talking about) one person. So this is the equivalent of if I thought I was talking to someone behind me, but instead of turning around I just shouted everything I had to say while facing away from that person, only to find out that there was nobody there and I was shouting at myself. I like the word solipsistic, so I'll use it again. But go ahead, surprise me.

And now, Quote of the Day (#3), in honor of Cram Raisin's very special day.

"When the cow drinks water, it turns it into milk. When the snake drinks water, it turns it into poison."

Today, Crammy probably thinks she's a snake, but I'm pretty sure she's really a cow.

Of course, she actually hates milk. So the whole metaphor is probably lost on her.

How ironic.

"Only you can change your life. Noone can do it for you."

A Quote of the Day* (#2) to you, from me, from a fortune cookie, from a Chinese restaurant, from a small village in China (presumably).

Now you can stop asking other people to change your life and go do it yourself, already.



*There should be no implicit assumption that there will actually be a "Quote of the Day" every day. I mean, come on, what are the chances of that actually happening? Whichever days have quotes are meant to have quotes; all other days are automatically quoteless, and should be treated as such.

Vive la Fonz.

And now, a Quote of the Day* (#1):

"No, he's evil. There are only two things you can do with that: kill it or jail it."

Today's Quote of the Day (#1) is from some soap opera (don't ask me which one).

Tomorrow's Quote of the Day (#2) will be some fortune cookie wisdom from an actual fortune cookie.



*Quote of the Day, a moderate effort by me to start actually posting to this blog, partly because I feel like it, and partly based on a probably-misguided idea that anybody might still be looking.

Vive la France.

They say you can never go home again.





Well then what the hell did I just do?


Stupid they.






Okay, so maybe they weren't totally wrong.




Stupid they.

To those who loved the old don't-ever-mention-anything-about-my-actual- day-to-day-life format, look away.


Ever see a movie that everyone had said was terrible, and then you actually watch it and it's not that terrible, or at least there were some things about it you really liked? Well, that seems like a good metaphor for the very place where that movie was probably made, Los Angeles.

Yes, there's smog and sprawl, and maybe at least a hint of superficiality and materialism and unfortunate economic disparity. And traffic. Oh my god, traffic. Seriously. Traffic traffic traffic. And you never know when; it seems to follow you around, like you must be going where everyone else is going, even if you can't for the life of you figure out why your destination would be so popular. Yet, there it is, car after car being passed by pedestrians (the few that there are in LA). And you look in the opposite lane and it's clear, but it doesn't matter if you're going into the city or out of it or at what time of day or on what day of the week. It's just cars, everywhere.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Despite all that, there have been some truly amazing things about this city. Do not underestimate the power of a place that has lodged itself permanently into your psyche from the time you could watch a screen. It is truly amazing how much here is oddly familiar; it's like revisiting a place for the first time.

Standing on Bugs Bunny's star on the Walk of Fame (where he, himself, probably once stood) was cool. Visiting The Dude's house (maybe), Walter's security building (well, we drove by it I think), the cafe where Walter tells The Dude he could get him a toe (by 3pm today, with nail polish). Eating pancakes at the very same place as the Nihilists (and yes, they were lingonberry).

And yes, watching that film in the city that made it.


Today I walked to the beach, five blocks from the apartment where we're staying. The sun was setting, but there was a large, concentrated crowd on the beach. My first thought was a beached whale, but it turned out to be a drum circle. It went on well into the night.


Yesterday we went to the Museum of Jurassic Technology. Wow. It is not to be missed (though also not to be described).


It's also amazing how you can just wander (assuming your car can move fast enough to call it 'wandering'; yes, I do really hate the traffic), and see cool, interesting, weird things.


If you're anything like me, you've heard some pretty bad things about LA. Well, it seems like most of them are true. But that's all part of the charm.






Oh, and by the way: all you MadTV fans out there should keep your eyes peeled; you might see someone you know in the audience of an upcoming episode. Because SNL is for losers.

Cram Raisin thinks I should blog more.




No way, man.

A footnote (that's why it's so small):

By an utter coincidence, ZeFrank is featured in this week's movie-themed New York Times Magazine. I would make that blue with underlining and have it change your arrow to a pointy hand, but a NYTimes account is needed to read the article online (sorry, buddy, you'll have to change your arrow to a pointy hand somewhere else).

Anyway, ZeFrank is, I think, one of those things the design of which is to make you feel like you're the only one who's heard of it (him?), and so you get really excited to have discovered something so sincere and private and neat. But then it turns out that, according to the Magazine, each installment of "The Show" is viewed by 200,000 people, which is a lot of people. Still, his very ability to create that false sense of intimacy (which, despite the potential paradox involved, may still not be as false as the numbers would seem to indicate) is quite impressive and also quite enjoyable.

I figure I might as well enjoy the "false" intimacy while I can, but not get used to it; the problem with "discovering" a gem is that if it's really that good, then it's unlikely to stay a secret (though of course, this is true in some cases even if it's not really that good). ZeFrank did, after all, just have his face published in the New York Times Magazine.

For the moment I can still think of myself as one of the few, the proud, the little duckie-in-the-pond-liking hard-charger-hating sportsracers. Granted, "few" would seem to include hundreds of thousands of people, but the feeling is still there, and I hope it lasts. Then again either way, since The Show will apparently only run for a few more months, I guess it won't.

Incidentally, I knew him when...by which I mean, before he started doing The Show, a few years ago, I used to visit his website. So I was probably one of the first in tens of thousands, rather than hundreds of thousands, to have 'discovered' him. Yay.





The feeling of intimacy aside, he's funny. I'm now wondering if you (the slightly less than 200,000 who read my blog) have all already heard of him. If you hadn't, check him out. If you had, why didn't you ever mention it? You probably thought it was just your little secret. Or maybe you just didn't like him.

Back to my old ways again...

Cram Raisin, this one's for you.

Yes, that's right, I'm blogging another blog. But it's a video blog. Plus, I've decided that the world should become all-blog. All communication should soon transform into blogging, so that the word blogworthy (having been so popular) will be reduced to obsolescence, because there will be nothing communicable that isn't blogworthy. Blogging about blogs will be known, simply as "blogging" (which will have replaced the word "living").

Or maybe it's not a blog, maybe it's a show. It's called "The Show", so that might be a hint. (It's actually called "The Show with ZeFrank".)

Anyway, he (Ze Frank) is cool. His site is cool, his "show" is cool, his video blog is cool. And he lives in Brooklyn, so we should all become his best friend.

Never heard of Ze Frank? Now you have.

Heard of Ze Frank? Now you have some more.

Just a taste. Yum.






Duckies?

"I am cruising because I have dedicated myself to all that is creative and destructive in my life right now, and I am equally in love with every aspect of my life and all the ingredients that have caused me turmoil and all the ingredients that have caused me glory. I am the living whispered warning in the Roman general's ear: 'Glory is fleeting', and in that verb, that active verb, 'fleeting', there I live, there I reside in this moment. I have dedicated myself to the idiom, 'I don't know', and am in love with the frantic chaos of this limitless universe."


If you live in New York City, if you want to live in New York City, or if you don't want to live in New York City, I think you should see this film.

Surely this is not the best film I have ever seen, but it is one of the most elegant and simply enjoyable films I have seen in a while; I think you should see this film.



It is also worth noting that if there is to be or has already been a definitive tribute to the World Trade Center, to the buildings themselves, there are parts of this film which should absolutely be included. But I have already said enough; I think you should see this film.


Incidentally, this is apparently the only movie that Bennett Miller directed before he directed Capote. I have not seen Capote, but I would still make a significant wager that, at least in some significant way, this is a better film. I don't really know, but perhaps you should just see this film.





A special thanks to Mary Wegmann, who may never read this.

Where'd Lee go?

Was this an elaborate test to see if you would still be checking his blog after three weeks of silence? Has nothing even remotely blogworthy happened to him in that time? Or has Lee, failing to take care of himself, finally succumbed to a fainting spell from which even the prayer of a devout Christian could not save him?

No. But it turns out, the only thing worse than blogging everything that happens is thinking about blogging everytime something happens. And then blogging about that. When everything seems so blogworthy, does that mean everything's terrible or it's great? Can I tell, anymore? Maybe I can by blogging.

And then I'm wondering, "How good can a blog be if it talks so much about being a blog?"

Yeah, that's right. This good.



Also:

Today I saw a large sign next to the highway which said in bright red neon letters: "Jesus Christ cares about you".

This makes me worry about what the word "cares" actually means.

I care about you.

Hi Mom.

Ah, hello. In the past two days, there have been two coincidences in my life, close together both chronologically and in general cause, which were a bit strange, fun, and totally blogworthy (yes, that's right, blogworthy. One word, no hyphen. I am hereby declaring that blogworthy is a word. Googling "blogworthy" gives 151,000 results, yet it is recognized by neither dictionary.com nor wikipedia.org (nor even its bastard cousin wiktionary.com), and having perused the first three search results, I am quite confident that there is not yet a campaign to put this word into full use. I am thus, in this over-long parenthetical note to an otherwise blogworthy entry, declaring that blogworthy should be used not only when directly referring to blogs (i.e. "Everything Lee writes in his blog is so damn blogworthy. Damn.") but also in everyday language (i.e. "Wow, that story is so blogworthy", "So, anything blogworthy happen to you lately?" or "Oh man, the most blogworthy thing just happened", etc.) It bears noting that I have just used parentheses inside my original parentheses, and that I'm only even pointing that out in order to avoid doing this: "))", which is totally ridiculous.).

So, two blogworthy coincidences in the past two days. No foolin'. First: for the past week I've been staying at Becca K-S's house with Rachel K O. Becca was away for most of the week, but I stayed an extra night to hang out with her. My next destination was Seattle, and my friend Jarret's mom Fran's friend Candis is living in Seattle, so I am staying with her. I had told her I was coming, and then, in order to see Becca, told her instead it would be the next morning on the 9am bus. For some reason, in conversation, Becca mentioned her mom's best friend Nancy who she then remembered I had met at Jarret's little brother's Bar Mitzvah, where I found out that Nancy knew Becca. Because I knew Nancy was a friend of Fran (since she was at the Bar Mitzvah) I mentioned in passing that maybe Nancy and Candis know each other. To which Becca replied "you're going to stay with Candis?" As it turns out, Nancy had visited a few months ago, and she brought Candis down to Olympia to visit Becca, so they know each other. This was a bit odd.

Because I stayed an extra evening to see Becca, I took the 9am bus on Saturday (that in itself, those who know me will attest, was wildly unlikely). As I was riding the bus, a guy got on who I thought I recognized, and so I kept sort of awkwardly glancing at him, and by the time we were approaching the end of the line I thought he was actually someone I knew, decided I would ask him, and, having assumed I was probably wrong, had also decided that he already thought I was extremely crazy and creepy (and possibly attracted to him). So we both got off of the bus, and he actually turned to me and said "Lee?" at which point I said, "Will?" Between 11th and 12th grades, I did a Jewish youth trip to Montana to do Habitat work. Will was pretty much my best friend on the trip, but I hadn't spoken to him or heard anything about him since the trip, which was about 6 years ago. He was from New York, but we ran into each other at 10am on a Saturday in Tacoma, WA. We chatted for a while, and there were a few other coincidences as well. He has known our good friend Avi K since he was in elementary school. Also, I had gone hiking with him and our trip leader in Glacier National Park during the program, and we both ended up writing college essays about the experience. We determined that we might hang out in Seattle or somewhere else on the west coast, but that either way we'll keep in touch through the magic of Facebook.

Neither was really a big deal, I know, but putting them together in such a short timespan, my mind was sufficiently boggled.



Here's something else:

In their bathroom, Candis and Ted have a book called The World's Shortest Stories which are the winning results of a contest asking authors to write a fiction piece of 55 words or less. The stories are okay, but I really like the concept. So here's the first one; it's from the "With Murder in Mind" section and it is a pretty good example:

BEDTIME STORY by Jeffrey Whitmore

"Careful, honey, it's loaded," he said, re-entering the bedroom.

Her back rested against the headboard. "This for your wife?"

"No. Too chancy. I'm hiring a professional."

"How about me?"

He smirked. "Cute. But who'd be dumb enough to hire a lady hit man?"

She wet her lips, sighting along the barrel.

"Your wife."

---------

That has nothing to do with anything, but I don't know, I guess it's blogworthy.

Yeah.

Rules are stupid.

Especially self-imposed rules about blogs (which are also stupid).

Well, y'know, sometimes. Anyway, I guess I'm starting over, if I'm starting at all.

Let me just say this: "you could at least be honest about lying to me." Brilliance (and I mean that unsarcastically) from Cram Raisin.




A couple of days ago, I was riding a bike to a Sprint store here in Olympia, WA, and I was going quite fast because the technician was leaving at 5pm and it was already 4:45, and I think the bike may have had little air in its tires, and I haven't biked much in a while, and Olympia has a bunch of difficult hills, and for some reason I hadn't had anything to eat or drink that day...

Anyway, I got to the store, stood in line, had a short conversation with a Sprint employee, and the whole time I felt a bit light-headed, like everything was a little far away, like I had cotton-balls in my ears (and the metaphorical equivalent in my eyes). I then, as far as I can figure, collapsed. Not totally, not unconscious on the floor, I caught myself on the counter. I didn't even think it was a big deal, I tried to collect myself and continue finding out what I could do about my broken phone, but then it happened again. And the gentleman with whom I was speaking quickly sat me down and got me some water, which he did partly because he was kind, and partly because at this point I was making a scene in this Sprint store.

But this is not about that. This is about the short, mid-40's black woman who came over and asked if she could pray with me. Largely confused, and having no particular to say no, I agreed. So there I sat, with my eyes closed, and she placed one hand on top of my head and another on the back of my neck. And she began to pray. She had asked me my name, and so she was able to ask Jesus "to watch over Lee and help him to feel better" and affirm her knowledge that "Jesus will help Lee to be okay". Some of her prayer was in English, some in a language I did not recognize. She prayed for me for about five minutes, while I sat there, with my eyes closed, listening, regathering myself.

She finally stopped, and for a moment we just sat there and smiled at each other. There was a young man with her (probably her son) and, when the aforementioned kind and concerned Sprint employee brought another cup of water, the son took it from him in order to give it to me. And so we sat, and I smiled and drank and smiled, and then finally she got up and went about her business (whatever he reason for having been in line at the Sprint store in the first place).

I will admit that, at first, I felt a little weird. I wondered whether, as a Jew, there was a problem with silently allowing her to pray, with my name, to a god a don't believe in. Also, the physical contact with a total stranger was a little surprising, her hands on my sweat-soaked head. But really the overwhelming feeling was just how sincere it was. How her religion manifested in a concern for me, a total stranger, to the point that she felt the need to appeal to her faith to help me, and her son felt the need to be the one to hand me the water. I think that there are a lot of problems caused by religion, and I think that recently I've been exposed to a lot of cynicism toward faith, but right then, I felt good about it, like sometimes it's as nice as anything.



So, there. Jesus inspired me (to Blog).

If I use the name Rachel Dominguez-Benner in this post, will my site will show up when she is Googled? I wonder...



...My latest research indicates that it may become so in time (the Google spider is working). And so we wait. While you're waiting, look at this.


Special thanks to Rachel Dominguez-Benner, who may never read this.

Don't picnic.


a special thanks to Winterthorn, who may never read this.

this american life: like it or not. (act one.)

"We are going to stay with this chase so stay with us, there is another hour of news ahead..."

(Boston's first album, by the way, was "Boston")

"If you're coasting...you're going downhill.

Raise da roof!!!"

I want a lady who hangs from a cloud.

All you do all day is bitch (and animal)

"Isn't that a beautiful, mysterious, wonderful thing?"

Lee's Just Trying...

...to figure out how to make links. But don't stay here, go to http://cmraz.blogspot.com

It's cooler there.

But also...

this is nice.