listening to a Dueling Banjos CD and wishing my name was Pearl or Loretta.

the Milk Drinker called me tonight, only after 2 days instead of the standard 3. when i pointed that out to him, he laughed, but i also told him i didn't read The Rules or anything, so he shouldn't worry.

he asked me out for friday but i already have plans, so i asked him if he'd like to join me instead. he said yes. i'm taking him to my hang-out to see a band. he'll also get to meet my friends, who are mostly a bunch of riff raff. do you think it's too soon for that? i mean, they're not really the milk drinking type.

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lighting up the kaya bomb.
i should get about three-qaurters through this thing before i get terminally zooted and pass out. gotta get the 8 hours of sleep i'll need before renting a van and driving into PA with john. i'm gonna pick up the rest of my stuff from my parents' house, plus all the african art my brother left for me in storage.

billy, the cs2x is pretty much the phantom synth at this point. everybody's advertising them but no one's actually got any in stock. i stopped by sam ash earlier today and got the same old shit i'm not trying to hear: pre-order.

instead of coming home with a cs2x, i came home with a bunch of mostly useless crap i had no intention of buying... including the soundtrack to Grosse Pointe Blank. i remember thinking it would be a good idea remake justice tonight/kick it over &armagideon time, and then all of a sudden i'm spending $35 on volumes I & II of the soundtrack to GSP... which seemed like a good idea when i was watching that movie the other night, but now i realize that if i hear the song "blister in the sun" one more time i'm gonna go johnny poastal and break something. what i need to do is find tht reciept, return all this shit and find a copy of the old Black Market Clash cd that has justice tonight/kick it over, robber dub, armagideon time, and bankrobber. Epic had to go and fuck everything up by dropping the original from the catalog and replacing it with Super Black Market Clash.
bunch of wack bastards.
anyway, i wanna remix all those tracks back to a lee scratch/mad professor/african head charge vibe...
or some shit in that vicinity.

shit... i'm just rambling... lemme put this thing down and fall out.

goodnight.

relaxing in the calm before the storm (listening to Ella sings the Cole Porter Songbook). Busy work week ahead for me.

Saw "Blast From the Past" this weekend. Cute, and funny movie. Cissy Spacek is a PANIC!!!

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suffering the anxiety that yesterday I didn't do my crappy job well. Though I hate it, I don't like to screw up, and yesterday I made a couple of minor boffs and one big one. Damn it!

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waiting to hear if I'm actually going to FL at all now. I have a non-refundable ticket, but now there's been talk of not leaving at all. Well, if not, I'll just take some days off and use my ticket anyway. It's not my fault if they can't make up their damn mind.
But with any luck, I will go and maybe even manage to suggest a client funded sushi gorge courtesy of R.C.'s recomended eats.
Hope I can make it down to the Sponge Docks too. I know we're flying in to Tampa but have no idea where we're staying. Sarasota was my last bit of info.
Swine- sorry to hear about the vaporware. It's typical. I've been waiting for Peak 2.0 for months. did you check manny's? or maybe try calling Al at B&H. I just bought some stuff there 6 months ago and they were nicer and cheaper (and more honest) than anywhere on 48th street.
I'm all over that 80's remix thing. I've been thinking about doing an electronic/mogwai-esque remix of Pat Benetar. it's just ripe.Also, I used to work for Sony in college and had tons of those black market clash cd's around (i worked for them when it came out and they always sent us more than we needed). I'll have a look around and see if I have any left. Maybe my brother has one. i don't think he likes the clash anyway (young'un).

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shit. just shut the fuck up.

i drink milk. milk is a good source of good things for adults. cow's milk is not good for children. milk is not for every adulte, though. something like half of all humans are lactose intolerant to some degree. i am not to any degree. I DRINK MILK GODDAMNIT AND YOU WILL NOT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME.

i mean, shit. what else am i going to drink when i'm all shortbussed and chipsahooyied?

nate: the new poster boy for milk.


that's some scary shit, ain't it?


mama mama take these dreams from my head indeed.

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just in case you were wondering, the "just shut the fuck up" wasn't associated with the milk conversation.

perhaps that wasn't clear.

work is an angry place today.

i keep seeing ads for "office space"

i can't help but think, what a great idea.

i can't be fired.

they can't fire me.

quietly amused by the fact that we've just lost a huge piece of business. Don't think I'll lose my job, they're too shortstaffed as it is. But I may not be writing liquor ads for long...

Wait, maybe a layoff (and unemployment) might be nice for a while.

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Snickering happily at Billy's "fight the power" smugness. Every time my major corporate employer loses money, I feel vaguely gratified. Let me just give you a hint about my parent company -- they just lost a suit in san francisco for $50.5 million. heh heh heh.

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looking at all the WAYDs that have appeared since I last checked in on 2/11 and regretting that I will not be caught up on them this week. Damn.

typing with one hand - no, not masturbating - recovering from a broken collar bone... will post the x-ray soon...

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at the homestead.
digesting shimp and crabmeat curry... drinking troegs nut brown ale... about to load up the van... and deciding that justice tonight/kick it over should be redone with a dirty rhythm/bad brains flex build-up on a lee scratch/mad professor groove.

billy, let's do business.

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catching up with everyone's hoo-yah -

married to a milk-drinker

Swilling that old crappy free coffee and hearing bruce spingsteen wafting over the cube wall from my neighbour's radio, and remembering the dream I forgot to post to my 2 best-remembered dreams, which is actually 3 best remembered dreams. Better haul ass back to the message board. I am trying to pace myself: I've had two bosses in residence for two days and I'm super dooper frazzled. Also, it of course goes without saying that even without the added stress of actually having to perform, I like hate my job and shit. Heh.

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if i was a milk-drinker and a woman I just went out on a first date with invited me to her favorite bar to see A BAND...I'd be in love.



Unless that band was Hanson.

Speaking of bands, my band has new photos of us on our website, so if anyone wonders what the ol' Revvin' Dr. Semillama looks like...

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http:/www.angelfire.com/mi/heyshutuprecords

finishing taking a quickie look at semillama's band page between faxing and photocopying. semillama: what a cutie!!! heh. everyone: go look at semillama!

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finishing taking a quickie look at semillama's band page between faxing and photocopying. semillama: what a cutie!!! heh. everyone: go look at semillama!

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not looking at semillamas band page. I got the ole 404 instead.

File Not Found

What do they mean by that?

I think they mean "fnord"


Oh, and i'm done blushing now, margret.

http://www.angelfire.com/mi/heyshutuprecords

The second egg was delivered today, laid in the mud just inside the front gate of the goose yard. It is a different shape, different colour and different size than the first one from two days ago. If there are two geese a laying, one of them must be the youngster whom Gandolf chose for a mate. Only one has a beak exactly like his, bright orange with a clearly defined black spot, and he has been seen with her in the water, holding her under. Being fucked by Gandolf doesn't mean it is female necessarily, but if she is laying eggs, I will catch and band her. Their sexual activity is now in second gear, meaning there haven't been any serious fights yet. They don't sleep at night, but fuck their brains out in the pool, then do a ritual dance with lots of honking just before dawn when they rest a couple of hours.

Last year The Good Lois made Pysanky eggs out of the extras. This year they will all be extra, and will go to the hounds for dinner. Disguised, of course so they don't get the idea of eating whole eggs.

My miniature purple and yellow flags are blooming, the tulips are swollen, the snowdrops ready to open, and we are expecting another huge storm tomorrow. Last year I remember the daffodils peeking out of the snow. Last year. I have been here almost a year. By the time the peonies and sweet peas bloom, I shall plan a private party for my Sorabjiland anniversary.

2/17/99, 9:24 PM
R.C. is:

Rock stars in our midst! Who'da thunk it?

But I can't figure out which one of those guys is Sem.

Fess up Sem & tell which photo is yoo!

My guess is Andy. Remember, he plays the guitar, into trance music, nice guy, MTU grad student board meeting and all...

Just a guess.

exhausted. Well, I managed to get to Florida. I'm in St. Pete's though, so all of the cool sarasota info will just go flying out the window. Spent about an hour tonite trying to find a restaurant called "Crabby Bob's". Though when we finally arrived it was a seafood gorge fest. I knew there was a reason I wanted to come here after all. The only thing I'm missing out on is the fun post "losing major business" office fallout going on back on the home front. Been getting reports though and, yes, I am enjoying it the mayhem from afar. Margaret, I envy the size and scope of your company's losses. Everywhere I work, I find myself cheering for disaster. The bigger the company the harder I seem to hope it hits. Ahh, the mild amusements that only work can provide...

swine- i'm all over it.

now let me just sleep off these crab legs...

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is pretty damn well exhausted.
man, i'm never falling asleep on a road trip again.
it went something like this:

me: you sure you wanna drive this early?

john: yeah. no doubt.

me: you sure you know how to get back to the city?

john: yeah. no doubt.

me: cool. mind if i pass out for a while?

john: yeah. no doubt.

two hours later i wake up, see one of those keystone highway signs, look at the clock, and start wondering why the hell we're still in pennsylvania when we should be well into new jersey.
then i notice the shit that no one wants to notice when they're paying $.35/mile in a rented van and need to be in manhattan by 3:00PM:
i see that those keystone highway signs have been reading 80-WEST.
by the time i start asking why the hell we're on 80-WEST instead of EAST 80, i've already realized that we're about an ass-hair away from pittsburgh and damn near across the ohio border. fucking 2 hours and 150 miles in the wrong direction.

me: jesus, man! i was just KIDDING about driving to san francisco!!!

john: whoa... no doubt...

somebody, please...

stop the damage.

laughing at all the crazy people on this list and of course loving them all for it. and joining the ranks as some other crazy guy who perhaps someday in the far future will also be laughed at by fellow crazy people and lookers on. oh, and props to Sheila for naming her goose Gandolf, very nice name for a goose, if i ever aquire a goose for some reason, thats definately my first choice for a name, if its gray at least.

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I'm being pummeled about the cerebellum by IR spectroscopy.... I just can't figure out how they do it... I mean, I can see that the peak running to like .08 % transmittance at 1750 is very significant, and indicative of a carbonyl, but resolving cis/trans isomerism of an alkene?!? C'mon, now... Those peaks are really freakin' small, SMALL, and they all occur in an overlapping bandwidth. So, how in the seven hells am I supposed to discriminate? It's an art form, I tell you, ART. That and proton NMR. Phew... I'll be glad to get back to doing actual reactions...

Thanks for listening...

listening to Gershwin's "Rhapsody In Blue," piano and conducting by Leonard Bernstein.

Aaaaaaa! This is heaven.

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Laughing. I laugh all the time now that I've found WAYD. Semillama IS Andy; if you click on the thing to send him email it comes up a.r. sewell (well, not parsed like that, but that's the gist of it), and the bio mentions church of the subgenius and semillama has referred to the "chamber of excremeditation..." Plus, if you read down a little farther on his bio page it actually says somewhere amidst the hallucinogenic prose (words are so much better than actual drugs except for mushrooms...the word and the drug are about neck in neck for mushroom) that his church of the subgenius name is semillama, so there you have it, margret's nancy drew skills have been dusted off. and ISN'T HE CUTE? CAN I GET A WITNESS? SAY HALLELUIA SAY AMEN! Wait, Semillama...aren't you the one who cathects to inappropriate "can't get over him" chick-objects? oh wait, it could have been any straight man. y'know, you hear the "nice guy" rant all the time...girls only want surly self-absorbed rocks stars and i'm ready to worship the pedestal i've plaaaaaaaced her ooooooon...but you know, we chicks suffer from the same thing...i like to call it the "earth mother" phenomenon.

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Your only about 45 minutes from Tarpan Springs Billy. You could always come to Tarpan Springs and meet me for a beer!!!

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I concede--Margret's done her research...

White male, 24 middle class,


I hate all of you "poor" excuses for negros. You disgust me.

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negros b u

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!

WHEN WILL IT END?

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annoyed by the rabble rousers.

Annoyed that I'm not sure exactly how to spell "rabble rousers".

Take a deep breath Agatha. And remember that:

1. It probably ISN'T him.

2. And if it IS, who cares? His kind is through here. Just ignore him.

3. And how does one spell "rabble rousers"?

Ignore who? I thought I heard some squeking noises, but it was just a cockroach under the chair, so I squished it.


Once again, putting off my editing...

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being informed that i'm being flown out to seattle during the second week of march to help out with training for the new SFA proprietary software.
this is a good thing.
not only will i get to pick up the rest of my shit from D, i'll also get to spend my birthday cruising around lake union drinking beer and practicing herbalism on kyle and traci's big phat mahogany chris craft.
all on the company's dime.
things are good.

and agatha, it never ends. it just gets more pathetic with time.

oatmeal, as always, feel free to kneel down and kiss my black ass.

tell your mom i said "hi".

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if i had balls, OB would be gargling them right now.

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Amused by Oatmeal...

Thanks, man... While emulsified in the thick of C-13 NMR (I've got proton doped out - no pun intended :), it's always nice to be reminded that I am on top of the intellectual food chain.... Maybe not on top, but by no means on the bottom... Heh... Seriously, I am laughing...

So, once more, thank you... Have a lovely day. And incidentally, I am black.

Hitting backspace repeatedly. Typing messages to OB, then deleting them. Laughing, because sometimes it's so reassuring to know who the enemy is, because s/he is so goddamned DUMB. Now if only s/he were relatively powerless...oh wait! (smirk)...
and please don't anyone give me any shit about my martial language...

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very amused that oats can come by occassionaly and win every time.

you give him exactly what he wants. everytime. without failure.

please.

having a little fun with rednecks never did any harm.

and besides, if anyone was genuinely pissed off instead of just inattentatively poking him with a stick, would you really call that "winning"?

whatever. ignoring him obviously doesn't work. might as well amuse myself by fucking with him a bit.

black.

Well, not really. But my dad was black.

Well, not really.

I'm going to Berkeley tomorrow to buy one of Hazel Pethig's handmade wicker placemats.

Well, not really.

blinking repeatedly because i have screen-glare-burn. thinking about the "winning" thing -- and "rabble rousers," which was spelled correctly btw. ummm. whatever. that's the thing i dig about speech, the appropriate response to it is speech (Judith Butler actually did a faaaaabulous job discussing the issue of "hate speech" in her book "angry speech" ...'leastways i think that's what it was called). except for the times when the appropriate response to it is dumping orange juice over someone's head...but those situations are few and far between. it stings like a mother, btw. i'm down with swine on the winning thing. it is fun to poke people saying ridiculously foolish things with verbal sticks...more fun than suffering anxiety over them, and more fun because more self-indulgent than being grown-up and ignoring it.
i've always favored the term "cracker" over redneck myself, but there you have it...

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Crackers are wonderful w/the right kind of cheese. Or in chowder.

Rednecks like OB are useless no matter what the application.
He thinks we're all so pathetic/yet he keeps coming back.
Very OCD/ dontcha think? No doubt the result of generations of inbreeding.

Not a ritz, not a saltine, but a triscuit perhaps. I dont know if I taste good in chowder or not. But it sounds like a pretty good plan for my next party.

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If I were a cracker (and if my roots were suthren instead of neast and mwest then i prolly would be) then i'd be a nip chee 'cause i love those salty cheesy little bastids.

i like oyster crackers in my soup.

my new favorite crackers, however, are the pepperidge farms sesame crackers. that's some good shit.

swine-you, me, boat?

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ZITS! ZITS! ZITS!
CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
ZITS!

wondering why that picture at the bottom of this page that claims to refresh every two minutes is the same as it was yesterday.

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Last night I went to bed early because I felt the flu coming back. This cold and flu season has been especially brutal; everyone I know has had at least one very horrible manifestation of the super bad flu, many are on the return engagement. I usually don't get stomach-related flus, but I got this one...mildly...I leaked from the ass for the better part of a week. Still, no biggie other than that flu smell in my nose and that flu-y feeling in my bones, especially my spine. And it's coming back. And I am supposed to go out tonight with the only person I really like from work and get drunk and watch "chick flicks."

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agreeing 100% with PetRock and Mr. Swine. Being oblivious to such things, is the best route to take. I know I used to be a major violation of that rule, but I have mellowed and chilled.

Oh, and Pete?

rabble-rouser n. one who stirs up the masses of the people (as to hatred or violence): DEMAGOGUE

Great word selection!

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I saw an elephants tongue on tv this morning. I also saw Larry Flynt on The Daily Show. "Another Fine Kentuckian" as my pal Devil Will likes to say.

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Semillama:

what did the elephant's tongue look like?

when i was in 2nd grade a bee licked fig newton off my thumb. Bees have very long curlicued tongues. it didn't sting me: it was my only ever good interaction with a bee.

what did larry flynt have to say?

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Elephants tongues are suprising small and pink.

Larry Flynt was asked what Trent Lott would buy at Hustler Hollywood and he replied "Barely Legal and a dildo." How about Henry Hyde: "A blow-up doll and a butt plug."

Feeling happy that I'm an exit only kinda girl.

Off to work.

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getting ready to go home, then to a hockey game (free tix)

reading the llama's post and thinking...

isn't hockey basically just rednecks on ice?

who knows.

maybe i need to be shipped off for "diversity training."

you have it confused with figure skating. remember Tanya Harding?

why do i think you wouldn't take to the training, swine?

i may be an apple fan but the fact of the matter is that i love my monkey ass ol girl lc630

slightly pissed at the universal mechanism... or whatever the hell you wanna call it.
it seems like all love comes with a little hate, every big boon has a little bit o' bane, every step forward takes ya two steps back...

unless you pause for a second and consider your footing...

it's the pausing i've not been so good at lately...

damn.

thought for the week:

"take a pause for the cause"

see ya.

had a real good time last night. he liked my friends, and they seemed to like him too. while i was off dancing i noticed he had the rest of the bar in stitches...

oh. and guys? i have some advice. drink milk.

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Discovering that one simply cannot get drunk while enduring a headcold.

I'm on my 3rd 'Rita & I'm sober as a judge. Maybe all the mucus clogging my skull is keeping the alcohol from affecting my brain.

Forget AA meetings & Alaban -- all they need to do is inject incorrigible alchoholics w/a shot of rhinovirus & liquor won't do a thing for 'em. An instant cure!

It's canadians on ice, actually.

remembering the 60 minutes show i saw when i was a kid. one of the stories was about the only(?) black hockey player in the NHL. when he was on the ice the fans used to throw watermelons at him. i always associated hockey with rednecks after seeing that shit.
but of course just because some fans were backwoods assholes doesn't make them all rednecks...

anyway, all that sliding around on the ice, whacking that puck and knocking the hell out of people looks like a lot of fun.

developing strategies to get down the mountain and cook spaghetti for 200 people, so the farrier can get his back surgery. i know this is important, because our local cowperson megastar has agreed to play for free. of course, he has horses that need shoeing. i'm taking earplugs, as i hate that whiny shit. these are local tales told in song, and are true stories of our village's history. like the time homer burned down the castle he had built for his mail order bride because she cheated on him, etc.

it's going to be a very long day. one of the cats, Spaceman Spiff, has learned to pry open the shower door to "look at" the duck. so now i have to put a lock on the bathtub before i can leave.

thank dog for sorabji.

the music is so apropo. Pomposo indeed.

Laughing. Why am I always laughing lately? I feel like in some important sense you people have saved my life: I wouldn't and won't take prozac because I want to own my anger, I feel that it's an appropriate response to my situation(s) and that owning it makes me responsible to it and so I can't just adjust myself to what is basically wretched, I have to figure out a way to get myself out of it. Oh, but it drains the energy out of you and makes you feel hopeless. And this site, it's restored some of my faith in connections -- I used to use the following line by the police as my excuse for not being a total misanthrope:
"walked out this morning, don't believe what I saw, a hundred million bottles washed up on the shore, seems i'm not alone in being alone, a hundred million castaways looking for a home." Damn, but it feels good to laugh.
Swine, I know nothing about hockey except it really perks me up, because I am basically sexist and anything men do to hurt other men for my entertainment really tickles me. I love boxing and hockey for this reason (i have to admit I also like the absurdist aspect of it, but the sexism is really there and I'm owning it -- I'm even working on it a little....doesn't help to have 3 male housemates who are all unreconstructed leeches). Also, swine, I don't think the players are rednecks, they're all eastern europeans and canadians anymore...and the fans sometimes throw squid on the ice and i have no idea what that is supposed to represent AT ALL.
Baseball, though, there's a stately and dignified sport. Go Cal Ripken, jr.!
I love you people! Sheila, whereabouts do you live? I was imagining somewhere in the Bishop, CA area...but then I thought maybe Wyoming because your weather patterns are so similar to mine here in Colorado.
Go duck, go duck, bad kitty.

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i live near Yosemite National Park, on the western side of the Sierras.

take the Prozac. you will probably really appreciate it, and it cannot harm you, you can always just stop. but give it a try. you will have more energy to employ elsewhere when you don't have to use it to squelch the anger all the time.

trust me. try it.

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I forgot to mention the zamboni guy wore a tux and top hat. THat was cool.

Hey Margret, if you like sports where guys hurt guys, do you watch wrestling at all? It gives the violence (even if its fake) plus a healthy dose of theatre of the absurd. Plus luchadores, don't forget those fabolous Mexican wrestlers! There's also a kind of egalitarianism in the whole deal: You get your rednecks cheering on the guy from harlem, you have African Americans whooping it up for the big evil white guys, and all the general weirdness that makes this country great.

Or maybe I'm batshit crazy.

yep, i like those pepperidge farms crackers, all right.

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Thinking that maybe Sheila oughta let Spaceman Spiff have at it w/the duck in the tub. Those waterfowl will kick any cat's ass in a nanosecond. Spiff will learn his/her lesson & leave them be.

And telling Margaret I gotta disagree w/ the Ur-Babe on this one. Skip the Prozac -- it's a crutch. Why is it that we are permitted to accept people being on mood- altering drugs if they've spent a fortune on doctors & Rx's to get them/yet wer're taught to look down upon those who cure their blues w/a few lines of coke or a couple of spliffs?
In both cases/the
self-medication offers a temporary respite. And in both cases/ until you deal w/what it is in yr life that's causing the depression/you'll need to pop another pill/or snort another line/tomorow & the next day & the next.

Sometimes the stuff that fucks w/us is beyond our control to change. But most of what makes us unhappy can be improved/upgraded/ or eliminated -- if you have the motivation to change.

I mean/we're not talking schizophrenia or major psychosis here. People w/those problems need meds just to function in a quasi-normal fashion. But Prozac or pot/ Zoloft or freebase -- it's all abt numbing yrself to yr pain & problems. Everybody deserves a mini- vacation from the hassles in their life now & then. But when the roof is collapsing on yr house/you can't fix it by going on vacation.

Stay off the meds & face up to the stuff that's bothering you, Margret. I think you'll be a lot happier for it in the long run.

And if hanging out here gives you a good laugh/I'm sure the Sorabji City Players will always be happy to oblige you. Intentionally or not.

Realizing that Mark has temporarily given up his chronicles in favor of telling us more with his photographs. He proves once more to be on the edge of something I wouldn't have imagined. When I arrived in Sorabjiland, it was because of the words.

My mind is still adjusting to seeing the uncaptioned photos.

Then again, they are suspended in air as much as the old essays were.

one by one ... eliminating drugs, and more importantly, the need for drugs, in my life. ('cept for the mj
of course)

i don't want to have to recover any more.

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enduring this goddamn ringing in my head. i am surrounded by the whir and click of machines. i can't fucking concentrate.

...