short leave of absence

Blogging from me will be light for the next couple of days, as I'll be on the road up to Wisssssccconssssin (that's the sound of me freezing my ass off) and once there, likely drinking a lot and catching up with old friends. And then I'll be on the road for two more days to come back down to Dallas, at which point I will immediately have to go back to teaching and being sober. I think I'm going to be a total wreck come January 4th, but it'll have been worth it. I'll try to get a post in edgewise once I get to Madison, to tell you how much fun I'm having without you (except that most of you who read this will also be in town, so perhaps you don't care), but until then, take care, have a safe and happy New Years, and have a fucking good story to tell me when I get back.

Jerry, Chris, Emily?, Davis?, Dan, Kathryn, Abby, Mikey, Beatriz, Grant and everyone else- see you soon, lovelies. Chai latte at Expresso Royale and warm Roti and mango lassi at Himal Chuli- just wait right there until I stop in to consume you. State Street- I'm going to be so happy to see you I will fucking skip from the Capitol to Bascom Hill. I swear it. I will hug the Humanities Building and breathe in the dusty, asbestos-ridden air within with joy and nostalgia. Oh, and Berghoff dark? I've missed you. Sure, I've dallied with other beers, but Shiner Bock is just a distraction and I love you still. Please believe me. This long distance thing is just so hard, I...I get choked up even thinking about it. Friends?

echo

It's so quiet in the blogosphere.

Come back and pay attention to me, everyone! If I were a Sims character, I'd be waving at you and cursing in Simlish with a little bubble over my head proclaiming my current state of dissatisfaction. Am I the only person who spends the holidays/long relentless hours of boredom glued to the computer?

Probably. See post below.

Remind never to come home for this long EVER AGAIN.

nuclear family

I'm sick of being an only child. Sometimes I feel like the weight and expectations of this family rest with me, and I want no part in them. They don't say it anymore, but I know they're thinking it. Marriage, kids. The things normal people do.

You're flying me home for X-mas? Okay, I'll brace myself for the guilt trip.

If I had a bigger family, don't you think I could get away with NOT doing all this bullshit?

But if I don't go home, it's just my parents alone. All their brothers and sisters 2000 miles away, doing the things that families do, and me off with my atheism and my fuck-all attitude. That makes me so unbelievably sad. I can't let that happen. I don't want my parents to be sad old lonely people. Sad old people are my kryptonite.

I almost lost it when we were opening presents. And then I thought, maybe I can make this easier on myself. So I planted the seed for family reunion. "Have you guys ever thought about going back to Wisconsin and celebrating with everyone else?" This doesn't bother me; with the exception of my terrorist prodigy cousin I love my extended family. I mean, if you have to identify me with any of them, I'll take the hippy blacksheep uncle any day (everybody's got one. Don't lie). They treat me with respect and dignity and don't expect me to be anything except myself. They want me to get drunk off my ass and waterski! I'm amusement to them! It's been done! Not in winter though. And I wasn't drunk. But they did make me waterski. Afterward I got drunk.

But this would really all be so much better if I weren't, on top of being an only child, the ONLY person my age in my entire family. Cousin Todd? 35, two kids. Cousins Rebecca and JJ? both under ten. Cousin ...oh, look, I've run out of cousins. What's wrong with my family? Why can't we reproduce in herds like everyone else? I think I've got some second cousins. I met them once. They ignored me.

But for once I'd just like to not have X-mas at all. What's the point, besides that my digital camera is the sexiest fucking thing on the planet? It makes me crabby, poorer, and the music sucks. Not to mention all the political, social, and religious reasons I hold dear that would prevent me from really making it what everyone else thinks it should be.

Can I not have Christmas next year? Just skip it entirely and maybe go for a hike or something? Pretend like it's a normal day? I would. I really would. But the guilt might kill me. Sad lonely old people.

In my opinion, the only important holidays are the ones you go out with friends on. See: St Patrick's Day, birthdays, Halloween, and New Years...

I'll be in Madison in four days.

oh jeff, you make me so sad sometimes

This is our last goodbye
I hate to feel the love between us die
But it's over
Just hear this and then i'll go
You gave me more to live for
More than you'll ever know

This is our last embrace
Must I dream and always see your face
Why can't we overcome this wall
Well, maybe it's just because i didn't know you at all

Kiss me, please kiss me
But kiss me out of desire, babe, and not consolation
You know it makes me so angry 'cause i know that in time
I'll only make you cry, this is our last goodbye

Did you say 'no, this can't happen to me,'
And did you rush to the phone to call
Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind
Saying maybe you didn't know him at all
You didn't know him at all, oh, you didn't know

Well, the bells out in the church tower chime
Burning clues into this heart of mine
Thinking so hard on her soft eyes and the memories
Offer signs that it's over... it's over

hell freezes over

I miss Dallas.

Can I go back now?

*blink blink blink*

Did I just write that?

oh, sergei

Prokofiev is still my favorite thing to happen to music EVER.

Act I Scene 2: Dance of the Knights from Romeo and Juliet? Hell fuckin' yeah.

First way to win my heart: Write music with loud, low bass trombone parts. Second way to win my heart: Write it dark, Russian, and slightly evil. If it plods and broods, even better. Use cluster chords. Hold them out until your teeth grit (this is the same philosophy I have about a good olive- if it doesn't hurt to eat it, it's not the kind of olive with which you want to be associating).

Mvt 2, Allegro marcato, from Symphony No 5? That shit makes me quiver inside.

So you were kind of an ass to your first wife and kids, Sergei baby, but you came around when you shaped up for that young'un you married. I know it was tough being an artist in a Soviet world, I know it honey. You did a good job though. Thanks for all the musical orgasms.

friday random ten

With bonus extra five. Merry Christmakwaanakahadan.

(The drill, which you know by now: Open your music player of choice, put on random, write down first ten songs that play)

1. Nachtmusik-Allegro moderato (Mvt 2) from Symphony No 7- Gustav Mahler (Berlin/Abbado)
2. Disillusionment- Torben Floor
3. "Stereophonic" Futurama theme song- Billy West and John DiMaggio
4. I've Got You Under My Skin- Frank Sinatra
5. Nicotine and Gravy- Beck
6. Shy (from the Atlanta bootleg)- Ani DiFranco
7. Andante- Allegro eroico (Mvt 1) from Symphony No 4- Sergei Prokofiev (Berlin/Ozawa)
8. Daria- CAKE
9. Glorification of the Chosen Victim from The Rite of Spring- Igor Stravinksy (London/?)
10. Introduction to Romeo and Juliet- Sergei Prokofiev (Cleveland/Maazel)
11. Meant to Be- Squirrel Nut Zippers
12. Fierce Flawless- Ani DiFranco
13. Gonna Make You Love Me- Ryan Adams
14. The Man in Black- Johnny Cash
15. Camoflauge- Youngblood Brass Band.

There are new pictures up at my photoblog. :)

grinch

What's the matter, Lorn? Why so grumpy? Where's your Christmas cheer and holiday spirit? Can't anything crack your hard cynical exterior?

Yeah, Elf was pretty funny.

"Not now, Artic Puffin!" *snerk*

night of truths

If I told you all the shit that went down tonight, you wouldn't believe me.

What else would happen when you mix people you used to hang out with in high school and haven't seen for two, maybe three years?

Como cambien la gente, in-fucking-deed.

See, let me explain. My friends and I grew up in Rancho Bernardo, a suburb of San Diego that has the reputation of being bourgeois and snobby. North County. Good schools, good neighborhoods, few minorities or challenges. Kids here grow up in a bubble. And everyone finds their own special way of rebellion.

If you don't find it in high school, you get the fuck as far away from RB as you can possibly go and you rebel like crazy in college. If you rebel or you want to rebel in high school, you're not so much hiding it from your parents; you're hiding it from your friends. Everyone is shocked if you've smoked pot/slept with someone/gotten drunk. Everyone is naive and innocent...at face value. There are no challenges here- except for maturity.

All I've ever needed to know about living I learned in college.

All I've ever needed to know about keeping secrets I learned in Rancho Bernardo.

Which is why, to buy a pack of cigarettes and drive drive drive out into the as yet untouched (but certainly plotted and sold) wilderness of RB with two friends who've got shit on their minds and they can't hide it any more, at 3 in the morning, coming home is such a big fucking deal.

It's good to dwell on the past, sometimes, but only if you know what you're going to do with the future.

What do you do with the knowledge that someone you went to Europe with summer before your senior year had every intention of a fling with you- and the truth is, you felt the same? Why didn't it happen? Why were we so clueless and hopeless about living? Are they joking when they say, 'how about a threesome?' now, in the present, and are you joking when you say you're sorely tempted? How is it possible for people to be so seemingly close, grow apart in college, and then realize that maturation is only a parallel zigzag with a detour at the end?

Honesty is a fucking powerful thing.

And there's nothing like alcohol and an at-odd-hours drive into deserted country to bring the best out of people.

Ask me about it sometime, and I'll tell you the story.

Winter in San Diego? 

My digital camera brings all the boys in the yard
and they're like,
it's better than yours
damn right it's better than yours.

Welcome me into the world of digital technology.

i. am. such. a. dumbass.

You know what? I deserve whatever crappy grad school's gonna let me in, because I obviously just don't care this time around.

Case in point: Left my Minnesota application lying on my bedroom floor. In Dallas.

Which means I can't give Sean the recommendation letter form, nor can I send copies of said form to Smith and Richardson in Wisconsin (although I might be able to give it to them when I visit). I'm not so worried about the actual application, but jay-sus, you'd think I'd have more concern for the people who are kind enough to help me out on this one.

What the hell is wrong with me?

just when i was starting think, well, okay...

Gay teen expelled from Dallas private school.

I'm so tired, I just can't deal with this intolerance anymore. And there's no end to it in sight...I need a hug.

[link from Pamie.]

do you remember?

Speaking of the passage of time, did any of y'all ever have Prodigy Internet way back when?

It was very purple and yellow, and it wasn't so much the internet as it was a collection of things all related to this Prodigy enterprise. I was pretty clueless at the time so I don't remember if you had to pay a monthly fee or if you just bought the program and that was it.

You could get news and weather and stuff, but all I ever did was play the games.

They had madlibs (this summer cleaning out my closet I found some that my friends and I had done and printed out. Such dirty little heads we had), puzzles, mazes, and this one strategy game with black and white boxes. I always lost to the damn computer.

And don't forget, "Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?"

Our printer back in the day? Let's just say I'm thankful for these days of inkjet and laser.

Of course, I'm not one to talk as the computer I do own is currently running 98 and I'm too cheap to upgrade into the next millenium. It's my cardboard box, and I'm a computer hobo.

i still find pieces of your presence here

My parents have gone off to a Christmas party and I'm alone in the house, or at least that's what I have to keep saying to myself.

If I listen hard enough, I can still hear Chipper's tags clicking together. I can picture his head snapping up as I walk around the corner into the kitchen, hopeful for food. When he was younger, we'd chase each other around the dining room table until we were both exhausted. When he was old, and blind, he'd bark at nothing in particular, but never hear you coming if you bent down to pet him.

I miss burying my fingers into the warmth of his fur, I miss having someone who loved me so unconditionally. I miss his smile and his devotion. I miss the puppy I taught to ride a skateboard and the dog that would co-opt as much of my small bed as his lordship could. I miss the glint in his eyes when you'd drop a piece of food. I miss watching him destroy a cardboard box like his life depended on it.

It was sad to see heredity and old age take its toll on his hips and his heart, but that's the truth of purebred dogs. I wish he could have lived with more dignity as he aged, but senility is too strong a disease for even the best of us.

I wish I could have said goodbye, or at least made sure he knew that I loved him, that I hadn't deserted him forever. I think he started to go downhill when I went to college, and each time I came home things were worse. To have him hold on for so long is more than I could have asked for.

Is it the cruelty of nature or human foible that we make friends with pets that can only share a fraction of our lifetime, and to whom we'll have to say goodbye to before we know it? I can't see the fairness in it, for either side.

But I still remember the puppy I cradled on my lap when we took him home from the breeder, asleep, and I named him even before we were halfway home. I was nine. I'm twenty-three now. Sometimes the passage of time is more than I can bear.

I miss you, baby.

stuff

I luuuurve margaritas.

Ex-Googaloo rehearsal was exactly as I expected it, except that Lenny wasn't there. I figured out why Russill is such a hornball- he's drinking "coffee" which is actually "beer." I learned this when he leaned over to make one of his stock suggestive comments and the smell of it washed all over my face. It was kind of gross, if you think being hit on by a man your father's age is gross, upon which I happen to agree. The feminist in me is cringing right now, but I do think it's all in good fun. Inevitably, he takes it too far and he gets the patented "who the fuck do you think you are" look. We had rehearsal at the magazine/newspaper distribution warehouse where he works, and again go to take home free magazines. Sure, I would have taken home the Men Magazine, but it was just too many erect penises for me to handle in one day. So I settled for a People and a Time. That Barely Legal sure was tempting, though.

The den is now this pinkish-orange color. It looks okay, except for the pinkness.

I heard Katie's story, and it wasn't as sordid or shocking as she had led me to believe; in fact I maintain my opinion that this is in no way something she should feel completely at fault or even remotely totally responsible for. Boy in question needs to figure these things out, and she's a catalyst for it.

Jerry, you need to call me.

The Neko Case album is fucking fantastic.

I still luuuuurve margaritas.

stock

Gee, the weather in San Diego is just horrendous. Absolutely miserable outside. I just want to stay inside all day drinking tea over a good book.

That last being a ginormous lie, it's like ten different kinds of sunny outside and the sky's doing that blue thing it's so good at doing. I don't even know what weather.com is talking about, partly cloudy. My ass! The palm trees are swaying gently in the Santa Ana winds. Sandals and tshirts for the next seven days (In southern CA, there is an unspoken rule about wearing shorts in "winter." It just isn't done).

What can I say? I like to spend my winters in drastically contrasting climates.

oh yeah

I've been looking for my tuner for five months. I thought maybe it'd fallen out of my music bag and under my car seat, but it wasn't there, so I asked around my schools to see if they'd found an extra. No avail. I was starting to resign myself to the fact that I was going to have to buy another tuner. You know, after five months you kind of get the impression that maybe tuning's not all that important to me, eh?

It has been in my mandolin case this whole time.

I remember I was going to bring the mandolin to Texas, but ended up leaving it behind because not one more bloody thing would fit in my car. I had been practicing it up until I left and thought, well, I'll just leave the tuner in here since this is where I use it primarily.

Cool. Not having to replace things makes me happy. Good thing I lost my right contact on Wednesday, and have to buy a new one, because me being relieved of financial stress would be just too good to be true.

I'm hanging out with some of the cats from Googaloo tomorrow. A few hours of being propositioned ruthlessly by Russill and being given the big-brother treatment by Lenny. On top of that Adam's got the warehouse video we did back in June all done and I get to see it finally.

And after that I finally get to hear this saga Katie's been hinting at for the past week or so. It's driving me nuts. Girl's life is like a fuckin' soap opera. Through which I am living vicariously.

the shopping for myself is the best part

One of things I'd forgotten about Christmas at our house is that my mom annually hands me something like $100 with which to buy stocking stuffers for the three of us. What this amounts to is a combination of books, CDs, DVDs, and whatever random shit I can think of for each person.

Which means that this year, it's going to be a long helluva wait until Christmas when I can watch Eddie Izzard's Circle. I've been too long without the man, and I need my fix.

I just went ahead and opened the new Neko Case album. Shh, don't tell.

Jon Stewart needs also satisfied.

I love free shit.

taking the snark up a notch

Snark: noun. A combination of "snide" and "remark." Sarcastic comments. [Defined for Jamie, because I did not make it up myself.]

It seems that the times I am the most dry and sarcastic are the times in which life is going swimmingly and I'm feeling generally happy about things in general. It's like my version of giddiness. In a higher proportion to giggles and odd behavior are the amount of crazy cynical remarks I make in general.

And since seratonin is flowing pretty freely these days, I've even managed to surprise my parents.

I think my mom is about to smack me.

See, it's all because she's so delightfully easy to mock, not in a mean-spirited way but in a loving, endearing way, that I just can't help myself.

And if you really want the sarcasm to flow, you should take me to Bath &Body Works on a Saturday around noon when I'm in a good mood and watch the spirit of Christmas slowly destroy it. Flames may have been coming offa me. My only defense is to make fun of everything in the store, even though I like that one scent and I bought Jerry's present there. The whole time I have to sneeze because there's just too much fragrance, and the store girls are, like, omg the most perky people ever! Omg!

I'm a nice person, really, and I have a healthy outlook on life. I just can't help making fun of it every now and again.

Most of my life I've been pretty reserved around my parents- well, scratch that, from the age of 13 or so on I've been pretty reserved around my parents, because they tend to disapprove easily. So, with my friends during those years I had to fight off all the repression somehow. Comedy is one way, sarcasm is another. It's not that my parents don't have a sense of humor; I think it's just that they expect my sense of humor to be of a certain type and it's not. Too early on it was warped by Monty Python and Douglas Adams.

I guess I just lay it on the heaviest when things are really bitchin'. Is that weird?

ha!



The lesser known Celebrity iPods.

Ganked from Pamie.

a little bit of me for you

Ms Lauren has organized a Life CD Swap. The directions for the actual CD read: "Make one CD that encompasses you (yes, you), your experiences, and your personality in musical form. Be sure to print a song list for your recipient. Make it pretty."

I don't know who my random recipient is yet, but I've already made up my CD (Ms Lauren's CD is here). This mixed tape thing is addicting, even if I end up putting pretty much the same stuff on each one I do. That might be a clue for me to get some new music.

There's no common theme here. Some of the songs express my nostalgia for college, some of them I use to vent my frustrations at my father, some of them are looking hopefully toward the future. Without further ado:

Squirrel Nut Zippers- Hell It's been far too long since you've heard this song. I just wanted to make sure you didn't go through 2004 without it.

Erykah Badu- Apple Tree I recently recorded a couple of tracks with a jazz band in the studio where this album (Baduizm) was cut. "And if you don't want to get down with me, then you don't want to pick from my appletree." Yep.

Youngblood Brass Band- Brooklyn This band epitomizes being a music student at UW-Madison. See them at the Terrace if it's warm enough, otherwise, dance your pants off at the King Club. Nat, why did you have to quit?

PJ Harvey- The Letter This song is horny as hell. I empathize.

Ryan Adams- Sylvia Plath I wish I had a Sylvia Plath too.

Wilco- Why Would You Wanna Live? I chose this song as the one that would run during the credits after the movie of my life is over. It's all in the way the lyrics swap at the end: "Why wouldn't you want to live in this world? Wouldn't you? Wanna live?"

Buck-O-Nine- My Town My official San Diego song.

Ani DiFranco- Adam & Eve I can't say that this song currently bears any significant meaning for me, other than that I have this great idea for a tattoo involving the lyrics "I just happen to like apples, and I am not afraid of snakes." I think it's time we give Eve a little credit. Combine these lyrics with the awesome power of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy and you've got a recipe for female rebellion against the Christian religion.

CAKE- Daria You also probably haven't heard this song in forever, which is a shame and I'm here to remedy that. My love for CAKE goes back farther than any of my other musical obsessions, expect for maybe the guilty pleasure that is Billy Joel. CAKE still puts on possibly the best live show I've ever seen.

Jamiroquai- You Are My Love Every time I drove with Jerry to La Crosse, we listened to this album. It still conjures up images of western Wisconsin for me.

Jeff Buckley- So Real I will have sex to this song someday. I will have sex to this entire album someday. Jeff Buckley is sex.

Incubus- Favorite Things "Too bad the things you hate are my favorite things." Dedicated to my dad.

Tower of Power- You're Still A Young Man Complain I may, there is a part of me that does enjoy being surrounded by so many Drum Corps types. In high school, having a Santa Clara Vanguard alumni as a marching band instructor meant we played all this old seventies brass stuff. The Bill Chase/Tower of Power diet. I was thinking about this song the other day when I swore the exercise one of the band directors I work with was teaching his trumpet players was the opening segment of this piece.

The Postal Service- Such Great Heights I know this song has been played to death lately, but that doesn't stop me from thinking it's the goddamn most touching thing I've ever heard.

Beck- Debra This song has followed me around just about everywhere I go. It was the theme song of my dorm room freshman year of college, I gifted it to my friend Jennii when she was searching for songs with her name in them ("I met you at JC Penney- I think your name tag said Jenny"), and then it turned up in the guise of a drama geek exercise at Blue Lake. Suddenly fifteen year old girls were coming up to me and emoting the following lines: "I said, Lady, step inside my Hyundai...cuz when our eyes did meet, girl you know I was packing heat." Definitely not camp appropriate. Little did they know that I had the song in my possession, and that the other counselors and I would blast it in the unit when they were off at afternoon rehearsal.

This may change or get swapped around a bit, but for now, it's the basics.

the hell? and other reactions to recent blogs

So maybe some of you are asking yourselves, "why in the world would someone have the gonads to post something like the entry below but not to actually say it in person or privately?"

Yeah, I'm asking myself that too.

So the person in question asked me last night if it bothered me at all to post personal material on a public forum such as my blog. I responded that most of what gets put up here is only half the story, or even coded in some way as to make it not a lie, exactly, but not the whole truth. The feelings and conclusions are the same as the ones in my head, however.

And I would like to add to that the fact that I often use this space as a way of working out these feelings and conclusions. I guess I don't feel like it could be an invasion of my personal space because I believe that most people go through these kinds of things. It's an effort for me to put into words not only for myself, but for others as well.

Most of you that read this are my close friends, anyhow, and even if I only know you through the blogosphere, experience has taught me that bloggers are, for the most part, good peoples. This space evolves into whatever I'm feeling at the moment- political, emotional, impulsive (you guess which one I posted under last night) and I refuse to categorize it. Some blogs are strictly political, others personal, I like to think of Buddha Stew as Story Time. This funny thing happened to me while I was doing my laundry, let's all laugh about it. Human experience is pretty varied, but I have a hunch, a strong one, that a lot of what I go through my friends are going through at the same time. Allow me to be so bold as to think I can articulate certain things for you. That's right, I'm just that good.

But, Lorn, answer us why you put someone in such a tough spot? Isn't it akin to forcing a response and thus, slightly evil and manipulative?

I'm kinda feeling that way right now, by the way.

But I think I did it for this reason: years of blogging have made me into a passive-aggressive exhibitionist.

Whenever I decide I want to post something here, which is often, I look at it from the standpoint, "will it be funny? or will it be touching or nostalgic? will people want to comment on it because it made them think somehow?" And sometimes I do it just to shock or bring things to light. This is my place and it has been for some time- so I guess I feel that if I can say it all, I might as well do it here.

This isn't making much sense to me, either.

As a matter of fact, I'm only making this into a big deal because it's something I do so seldom. Act impulsively, I mean. Aside from up and moving to Texas in July. The reality of it is that I have a genuine respect for someone I've only known for a few days, if you add it all together, and I can see something lasting despite the nature of the relationship. I'm making no demands. I'm quoting Ani Difranco- "now you don't have to ask, because you know how I feel." I'm opening my mouth now because down the line I don't want it to get me in trouble.

At this point many of you might be scratching your heads and wondering just exactly what I'm making such a big deal about, which you have every right to do. I don't like drama, but for some reason I still end up making mountains out of molehills. If you are clueless, ask me.

So, if you'll excuse me, I have to go wash the pair of jeans and the t-shirt that are currently my only articles of clothing so I can smell somewhat fresh tomorrow. The rest of my apparel is taking a short vacation without me in the Los Angeles airport.

passive-aggressive i might regret this later blogging

I've never been able to figure out how to give the subtle hints when it comes to liking someone, or maybe I'm not subtle enough and the person in question freaks out, but I've come to realize with these things I've just got to be blunt. I'm tired of doing the dance and playing the games with people. On the table. If you don't care for how I feel about you, well, just say so and it will all be forgotten. These days I'm just impatient as fuck for something good to happen, and waiting around is seriously cramping my style.

So.

You. Yeah, you. I like you. Really I do. Just so you know.

See how important italics can be?

Proper responses to this blog could contain an amalgamation of the following:
-"woohoo!"
-"why yes, I feel the same, but am conflicted about relationship matters at the moment and need more time to get to know you."
-"great, when do you get back in town again?"
-"cool, but I'll have you know that you screwed up my whole master plan which was totally romantic and wonderful."

Improper responses to this blog would contain the following:
-"Christ, no, woman!"
-"Um, let's just be friends."
-maniacal laughter
-"You had me there for a while but then you put this on a public forum and really embarrassed me and now I'll never talk to you again."

(These last may be discussed in email or to my face, only, please)

Ok. I'm going to go pack my suitcase and tomorrow fly 2,000 miles home, all the meanwhile totally regretting posting this and yet maintaining a little hope that I haven't totally made a douchebag out of myself. I'll...um, I'll check in tomorrow evening sometime I guess.

the great escape

Tomorrow begins my two week journey of locations other than Texas. I'm spending ten days in California again, hitting up the Martini Ranch and the beach and Denny's, of course. Christmas will be as usual: my parents and I will get up, open presents, eat breakfast, shower, and go see the longest movie we can all agree on seeing so that we don't really have to talk to each other. It's a strong testament to our family dynamic that we can't stand each other for very long but we still feel obligated to spend the holidays together. Likely after the movie I will read or sit in front of the computer, until we eat dinner, and then we'll all watch TV in separate rooms until tired enough for sleep. My mom and I might take a tour of that one neighborhood in Poway where they go apeshit with the X-mas decorations.

So, I have no real love for Christmas. It's always been a difficult (well, okay, boring) holiday for me because it's not the gathering of family chaos that it is for many people. Just my dad, my mom and me. Used to be I had a dog as well...

To top it off there's so many reasons NOT to celebrate that all I can manage to drum up in the way of holiday spirit is resentment. I can't afford to get my parents much for presents, so I'll be going the crafty route. My dad never likes anything I give him anyway, and then I feel badly because I usually take in some nice loot. This year it's a digital camera, something I want very much and have to swallow a lot of guilt to accept. Don't worry, I'll do it. ;)

The real holiday for me is going to be New Year's. The "family" I miss the most is in Madison still, for the most part, and this year Jason and I aren't the only ones coming in from out of town. Emily's thinking about it and Chris is almost definite. If we had Bethany and Davis, it'd be a bona fide reunion, but there's also the possibility of seeing Ian and Miah and maybe Grant? (I'm guessing) I'm not trying to get my hopes up for the best time ever, because I've learned my lesson about expectations, but at the same time I know that with this crowd, adventure is a given.

Am I ready to go back to Madison as a visitor, or will it kill me to leave again like it did last February?

Oh, and then there's the weirdest feeling of all- the only thing about Texas that's really pissed me off in the past two weeks or so has been the drivers. All the rest of it...well, it's too weird and too soon to start admitting these things. I'd like to suppress it for a little while longer, if you don't mind the wait.

But then again, Texas drivers piss me off so much that it's almost reason enough to leave in itself.

richardson on record

My professor at UW had this album with the title "Richardson on Record," and it only exists as, surprise, a record. Apparently it's also one of the only recordings of the Monaco Sonata for Trombone and Piano, which is saddening as it is a really good piece. I have forgotten what other pieces are on it, but the thought of it still makes me laugh.

Always the last to catch up to the modern era, that one.

Up until my senior year, our lessons were taped on the World's Oldest Tape Recorder, covered in duct tape just like everything else in that office. The microphone was covered in duct tape. His mutes were covered in duct tape. Music was held together with duct tape. I once saw duct tape on the wall. Holding up the tin foil on the window.

And there was paper and mess everywhere. The file cabinets were overflowing with music, the walls had cartoons and Republican propaganda and random pictures of Bill and famous trombonists (well, maybe just Christian Lindberg), and there was just crap everywhere.

Can't forget the green carpet. And the stand extenders. That poor music stand was about to suffer from the most debilitating back injury known to stand-kind. The shelves full of tapes from students ranging back to 1985. The little note on the door that said, "Do you have your keys or are they in your winter coat pocket?"

And then one day Lau donated the Super Amazing Direct-to-CD Recording System and the Microphones That Must Have Cost A Fortune Because They Made You Sound Really Fuckin' Awesome.

But for some reason, the old tape recorded stayed there, like an old friend (or an old enemy, or an old someone whose eyes you want to poke out with a blunt object), gathering dust and more duct tape until the very end. It's like Bill couldn't bear to part with something that had created generations upon generations of creative clutter for him.

I can't imagine what it must have taken to clean that office out after he retired. I bet there's still duct tape somewhere in there, hiding, weeping silently for the Golden Days and dreaming of the time when Bill would come again and start a whole new era of things duct taped to other things.

And Richardson On Record is still floating around, apparently on restricted access in libraries nationwide.

Oh, but there's one other recording of the Monaco Sonata that I have at my disposal. It's by this little-known trombonist who was once a student of the University of Wisconsin at Madison and studied with the prestigious Richardson whose Record so haunts our libraries today. Just a mild-mannered junior recital, a little De Meij, a little Hindemith, a little hard-as-fuck tenor-bass duet by some hack named Charles Small.

Guess which recording my student, Jeremy, will be getting as a reference for his solo and ensemble piece this year?

I apologize in advance and in writing for having screwed up every single one of the high notes in the first movement and coming in dreadfully early in the third. Second movement doesn't sound too bad, though; too bad it's only two minutes long and contains all of seven notes.

Rest in peace, Bill's roll of utilitarian duct tape.

internet users anonymous?

Confession time: I'm seriously addicted to the internet. I don't doubt that many of you already know this, but I never realize the extent of my addiction myself until I am removed from consistent access.

I will be deprived of internet for a while, realize this, regain internet usage, and forget it again.

And I exhibit some classic symptoms: Spending hours at a time in front of the computer, even if I've exhausted all paths of surfing that I'm curious about and/or just can't stand to stare at the light anymore. I'll reread my blog archives, or someone else's blog archives. I'll play some stupid game. I'll look blankly at someone's email to me that I should have replied to many eons ago, but never actually do it.

The Roommate won't let me use his computer- in fact I got bitched out for being caught online last night when he came home- because it's got some sort of virus. I'm telling you, these things don' t happen if you use Firefox. Oh, and also, if you don't look at the crazy porn sites. Personally, you can look at porn all you want, but in this day and age it might just be better to rent it. While I was online I never noticed anything funny, although Firefox was allowing popups every twenty minutes or so. Now that's weird. I get the feeling he's trying to pin it on me somehow.

So, I'm in and out of the library, where the connection is slower than an old man's bowel movement, and links don't seem to want to work when I plug them into Blogger. The hour time limit is suffocating, and ironically enough it won' t let me go to Pamie's site (This is just plain evil because not only is she from Texas, she's also done more than just about anyone I know to make libraries better places).

And when I go home? Nothing to do now except take pictures of myself with the webcam and play with them in photoshop. My life is so thrilling, it's a wonder you don't all just drop dead from heart attacks. Or asphyxia. Let me know which you prefer and I'll set it up for you.

things to shout as you run out the door while your roommate is engaged in coitus

"Thanks for getting me off!" (courtesy of Outback)

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Thanks for letting me watch!"

"Phew, it's hot in here!"

"You guys should get some kind of Guinness record!"

"Mind the clitoris!"

Your suggestions?

Megan, Sarah and I at Mary's wedding. Too sassy for words.  

From Halloween- this is a ridiculously good picture of Jason, no? Too bad I look kinda turtle-ish. 

Crunch! 

a link that'll hopefully work, and a weekend

Been meaning to post this, because it's awesome and no one's ever made me feel like it's quite so cool to be me, but I've been either busy or unable to access the internet due to the vast amounts of sex my roommate is having these days.

Anyway: Katie tells me why I rock. I am extremely flattered and a little embarrassed, but in an extraordinarily good way. It's mine turn to do it, which I will get to soon. Livejournal memes. So sexy. I owe Hans one as well.

So I had (am having?) one of those ridiculous and somewhat random fun weekends that generally make me pretty happy. A fun date on Friday. Hanging out with Jason most of yesterday. We went to The Women's Museum downtown, which ended up being pretty friggin' rad. I enjoyed the exhibit on First Ladies, but the best part was the big wall of random facts and histories and silly stories about women. Gorgeous building too. I'll have to go back when they change their main exhibit.

We got some dinner and played duets, loudly, because really you can't miss the opportunity to get back at your roommate for loud sex with excerpts from Tchaikovsky. At least I can't. At any rate, Jason makes my bass trombone sound so much better than I ever can. I will admit to being jealous of this fact.

Caught the last half of Jamie's show (my friend from Friday), which was pretty killer despite his trying to pass it off as nothing special. Afterward we joined him and his friends at a local place and were highly amused. Very funny people. All from the Midwest, swoon. I was impressed particularly by their friendliness- most people in groups of people they're comfortable with will tend to ignore the newbies, but not these folks.

Back at my place Jason and I did what we do best: drank vodka and talked about everything under the sun. And this morning we escaped the apartment, giggling, for Denny's because of...more loud sex.

squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Just got my Ani tickets. General admission- which means I'll be lined up all day to get a good seat, I guess.

Last night in advance I wrote down the number listed for tickets because I knew DB wouldn't be up and out of his room in time for me to use the internet (sure enough, he wasn't. Not only that he woke me up AGAIN while coming home, and then had really loud sex for what seemed like hours). Woke up right at 10 on the money this morning and called- they don't sell tickets on the phone. "You can buy them on the internet." Hmm, where have I heard that before? Or, come into the store and get them. Well, honey, Lower Greenville's a large hop, skip and proverbial jump away from me, and I just don't have time to dally.

The obvious thing to do is go to the library in pjs, hair a mess, no bra, and terrible morning breath.

Done, done, done, and done.

But I have tickets!

And she's not going to cancel this time, right?

Squeeeeeee!

[Edit- I'd fix the broken links, but library computers are far too slow to do these kinds of things, especially with my notorious lack of patience.]

whoa, things are looking up?

Hey, this is weird, and rather out of character for me, but the last week has been good. Like, really good. Not just acceptable, but darn right needle tipping toward the positive side of the scale.

I mean, I totally loved teaching this week.

My dad got a lawyer to help me with my trombone-airline issues.

Somebody fun answered my Onion personal, and made me laugh like hell.

Jason's coming down tomorrow, finally, and we're going to the Women's Museum (I liked this about our conversation: "Wait, there' s a women's museum in...Texas? Is it about housewives?" "No, I think it's pretty legit." "Wow.") and then hopefully on to further adventures.

I bought and assembled a desk today. I love doing that shit. It's a cool desk too, and it's already cluttered.

I'm practicing, not a lot, but regularly.

My Jones Soda bottle cap yesterday said "You will soon be made extremely happy." I'd like to hope that's going to pan out.

I looked totally cute tonight.

Photoshop is fun.

And this is the kicker: I almost don't want to go home again next Friday. I mean, I do, but it seems so soon. I'm afraid to take my horn- I might not. If I don't, I can bring back my mandolin, and that would be thrilling to say the least.

But when I get back, I am immediately leaving for Madison.

Madison!

Be still, my heart.

the real ultimate power

The Official Trombonist Webpage, directed to my attention by Adam.

Facts:
1. Trombonists are mammals that don't use valves.
2. Trombonists practice ALL the time
3. The purpose of the trombone is to flip out and play so loud you can't hear anything else!

denny's, rancho bernardo style

The night before I left to come back to Dallas, Tara and Natalie came over and we watched the new Robin Williams standup (Live on Broadway, or whatever). It was terrible. Just not funny at all. Sure, I like crass and risque, but you gotta take it to new lengths. Most of the time I was tempted to say, "Fuck it, let's watch Dress to Kill again." Plus, never watch anything with my dad. Just a warning. It's pure Spanish Inquistion hell.

Anyway, we went to Denny's afterward, like you do, and had the most entertaining waiter on the face of this earth. Brian. Brian was apparently very bored and kinda lonely, because he gave us the friggin' golden treatment. Sometimes he'd just come over and talk to us for no reason. We thought about offering him a seat at our booth at one point. Today I was thinking about making soup for dinner, and all of the sudden it all came rushing back. Good times, Brian, good times.

Brian: How's everything over here?
Me: Just great, Brian, thanks! (we all giggle)
B: Can I get you anything else? Water? Dessert?...Soup?
Natalie: Um, nope, we're good! [exuent Brian.]
N: Did he ask us if we wanted soup?
Tara: Yeah, I think he said that before once, too.
Me: Weird. He must have a fetish.

A little later and...

Brian: Ladies! How are the mozzerella sticks?
Me: Just great, Bri. Do you want one? I can't finish them.
B: No thanks, I like bananas though.
Natalie: Pardon?
Tara: As long as they're not mushy.
B: Oh no, I love them mushy! I'll eat anything. Sometimes we make the banana splits with mushy bananas, and no one ever knows.
Me: I'll make a note of that.
B: Anything else I can get you? Some soup maybe?
T: No, I'm all set with the soup, thanks.
N: Why do you keep offering us soup?
Me: Yeah, are you my grandma?
B: Well, see, we can only serve the soup for 24 hours after we make it. It expires soon, and they want me to push the soup so we don't waste it.
Me: That's very noble of Denny's.
B: I thought so! Anyway, it's very good. So do you want some?

some updates

1. The trombone nightmare, continuing saga:
I took my horn in to Dallas's most highly recommended instrument repair tech on Thursday last, and watched him fix it. I'm always fascinated watching repairpersons. Although it was painful to see my bell in such a state, it's really cool to watch how the metal unfolds with the right pressure and tool usage. A super nice man, this, and he even wrote me an appraisal for the airline saying that he would be unable to satisfactorily repair it and the bell needed to be replaced. And then he fixed it marvelously (although it's badly scarred, doesn't reverberate as much as before, and I'm afraid to use a mute) and only charged me $70. I will get a picture up one of these days.

That same day I argued over the phone with an America West representative and got nowhere. I wrote out as much of it as I could remember, described the situation, etc, and sent it off to my dad. Today he informed me that he's managed to get an attorney friend (also a musician) of his to type it up on his letter head and give it legal teeth. If we push this hard enough, $700 for a new bell is going to seem like a no brainer for the airline.

2. Grad school stuff:
I am a big fat procrastinator. But, I've decided to only apply to two schools- University of North Texas, and University of Minnesota. Partially, this is for financial reasons, as I can't afford all the travel and app fees. So, I let you down again, Katie, but I will come visit soon. I might have to drive but hell, it'll be worth it.

The only thing that's left is sucking it up and getting in touch with Richardson and Smith about writing letters. Sean is a given, and goddess if he isn't the biggest professional help of my entire adult life. I adore that man.

3. Teaching:
I have four more high school students, and a list of others to bug. This is quite the relief as my finances are taking a hit with all the school vacation lately.

Today I was really enjoying teaching; in a good mood, feeling like my chops were in order, my kids were really getting it, and I was funny and sarcastic as hell. I got to my last school...and they were taking band pictures. Any other day I would have thought, YES! I'm going home! but today I was kinda bummed. Am I really starting to like this job?

4. New Year's Plans:
Madisonians take note- I will be joining you for the festivities concerning the year 2005. I expect a barrage of comments telling me where and when to be for drinking, free meals, and any other possible activities you feel I would enjoy. I intend to have one rough, drunken New Year's to make up for the past five months. I want stories to tell, dammit! Buy me a Berghoff or a Spotted Cow and I just might be tempted to provide sexual favors.

this just ain't my week...or two.

Let's add to my list of annoyances computer troubles, and call this the month from hell. I like to get months started out on a solid hair-pulling platform of shit happening.

As you know, Jerry gave me his laptop, which I received whilst in San Diego, and was looking forward to getting back, setting up the WiFi, and kicking ass all over the internet on my own desktop. Plus, Manoj gave me Photoshop, and that's installed (I've been playing with it and my webcab obsessively for lack of anything better to do) and raring to go.

So I came home, bought a wireless router, set it up (well, dealt with roommate PMS while he set it up...long, inappropriate story for Buddha Stew), and got ready for the wireless fun to begin. Jerry had already installed a card and it was supposedly ready to go.

Didn't work.

Would try to load the config utility and then fail, miserably, leaving me going "wha happened?" in Margaret Cho's mother's voice. Couldn't get to tech support until today because computer issues never happen on the weekends, apparently. They take a day off, like the mail, and Texas Christians.

Anyway, long story short, the laptop's running Windows 98 and I need the second edition. So I go to Best Buy, thinking, maybe they have a wireless card for us poor people that take what we can get when it comes to computers, and really do, honestly, like the new fast upgraded stuff, but just can't afford it at this stage in our lives.

Nope. 98SE and above, only.

So Windows XP costs $89, which is like a swift arrow to my cardiovascular regions, and the salesman cruelly suggests that maybe I can just download the upgrade to 98SE online.

Yeah, dumbass, I need internet to do that. Have you ever heard of Catch-22? Joseph Heller? War, and weird shit happening? This is like the nerdy, computer geek version.

Oh, he says. And walks away.

Walks away, like I'm fuckin' hopeless. Like Best Buy employees have no time for silly women who can't be bothered to use the latest and greatest of Bill Gates masterpieces.

Well, I'm thinking, hey maybe I can just hook up my laptop to the cable connection, really quick, download what I need, and skip my way humming into the great wide world of Internet Explorer? (that was sarcasm by the way) Until I ditch it completely for the beacon of the internet, Firefox .

Ah, but darling, don't you know, that cable connections in this day and age (oh boundless technology! oh triumph of science!) use ethernet cables, which are wider at the insertion end and much much much faster and sexier than your laptop (98! I laugh in the face of progress!) can even dream of being?

No, but I have another idea! I shall save the upgrade file to disk! Brilliant! Subverting the system! Such a smart lassy, such a problem-solving go-getter! (thanks, Bill) .......................................................................................................fuck.

Bollocks to this, it's fetal position time.

rrrrowrr. In addition to the explanation of Purli's genesis below, I must add that I was totally a Thundercats junkie when I was a tot. Are you surprised? Look, she's even got Cheetarah's hair.

purli, all grown up

When I was a tweenager, my readings lent heavily to the financial survival of the science fiction/fantasy community. I was especially obsessed with the books of Piers Anthony and his Xanth series. The series has declined the longer it runs (something about the bimbos and the excessive use of puns...), but the early books are classic- Dragon on a Pedestal is still one of my favorites. Xanth is the alternate universe of Florida, and anything can happen there. Magic abounds and just about anybody/thing can have sex with anything/body. Thus, mythological creatures such as griffins and centaurs are genetically viable, and some animals or people are one of a kind, which of course leads to much romantic agony on their part.

I made up my own character to live in Anthony's Xanth: the union of a winged lion and a human, Purli grew up in the jungle toughened by the feral feline lifestyle. Her human side always longed for love, though, true to Xanthian fashion, and this is how her adventures began. Bewinged, betailed, becovered in fur, Purli was well equipped for whatever became her.

So, it being Saturday night, 10 years later, and me with nothing to do, finding the Hero Machine on Feministe was just the right thing for my mood. Purli's all grown up now, and she doesn't need love quite so much. She's got a nasty looking dagger and a new outfit just right for ass-kicking. I dunno about the name. Hey, I was thirteen, gimme a break.

[Edit again: see above. Mee-ow.]

dear blog and the people that read it,

I apologize for being the crabbiest of crabbies yesterday. It was a bad day. How to describe the horror of seeing your trombone made into an accordian to a non-musician? Imagine you just broke your arm, and it's dangling funny and the bone is not in the right place. And then vomit.

The good news is, it's fixable, and I have the info of a highly recommended repair tech in Dallas. The funny news is, when I went to file a claim the lady told me I couldn't have it repaired myself. America West must do the repairs on all claims filed. I can say that I've laughed harder, but never quite so sardonically. I told her, you or your airline touch my horn again and I'll rip all your heads off. Bitches.

Let me make it up to you, my anger of yesterday. These three things delighted me today:

1. February 3rd, Granada Theatre, Dallas, Texas.

2. Zach Braff is so cool. See video post.

3. Hee. I so wish I could go to Pamie's wedding.

Are we square?

EDIT: This blog now with more mood-cheering power!

4. Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me. I've never seen a bunny quite so forlorn. [Via Erica]