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Time:12:07 am
Hello! I'm unlikely to keep this livejournal going, but I'm blnkfrnk everywhere and I'm on tumblr now, so please follow me there!
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Subject:Week ending 4/28
Time:02:20 am
That was a long week. Read more...Collapse )
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Subject:Week ending 4/21
Time:03:20 pm
A week where I mostly ignored a paper that I should be writing RIGHT THIS INSTANT. Read more...Collapse )
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Subject:What I did this week, week ending 4/14
Time:09:41 pm
Another excellent week. I like the LJ posting box better than that of tumblr, so here it is.
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Time:06:57 pm
Dear Target San Bruno shopper:

You a a woman with brown hair and cool glasses, and I think a blazer? Older than me, so late thirties? Anyway, first we did the grocery aisle dance around looking at bread, and then you asked me if the egg noodles that were darker than the others had something wrong with them. I sincerely do not think they do. Probably just a natural variation, or maybe an older package.

Then we had a nice conversation about tuna noodle casserole and how it's even better the next day. It sure is!

Anyway, thanks for that pleasant interaction. I lead a very lonely life (mostly my fault) and the majority of strangers I come in contact with want something from me. So thanks for being cool. I hope your noodles are delicious!

best,
other random Target shopper, short dykey person with the black jeans and home haircut
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Subject:My Dream House
Time:10:44 pm
Well, first I need some land, preferably not in the middle of nowhere. An abandoned factory or warehouse in the city would be ideal. Preferably a burned-out ruin so there's nothing of value to destroy, and so that my plot of land would look like a valueless, dangerous, ugly blight on the neighborhood that nobody would want to go near. I'd want to spread rumors about it being haunted, although that might backfire and lead to phony psychics and reality TV crews looking for ghosts. Put up a chainlink fence and plant blackberries or hedge roses so they'll grow over it and keep people out/keep the feral cats in and way from the street. I plan to keep feral cats who can't be rehabilitated on my property-- SF-ACC has a program for them. So I'd need some insulated cat shelters, too.

Knock down parts of the ruined building and cart away all the old crap from a portion of the plot. Then build three cottages, small yet pleasant, all single-level. The largest will be dedicated to the doorman/assistant and his or her family, and the others will be used by guests preferring to stay aboveground/my elderly parents, should the need arise.
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Subject:Non Human But Totally Real Work Characters
Time:12:44 am
COGEN:

Co-Gen is the backup generator for Humboldt Housing. The power goes out (due to weather, machinery operator error, troubleshooting, a tower outside of Ferndale catching on fire, birds, mistake, upgrades, construction...) rather frequently (minimum once per semester;sometimes the Internet/cellular for the county goes out randomly as well.) Co-Gen lives in a shed in the parking lot and calls the student working the information desk every so often. I think it gets lonely. Anyway, Co-gen sounds like a robot who just wants you know it's doing fine. It is extremely creepy, because there are beeps and Darth Vader noises prior to the announcement that Co-Gen is okay. Nobody knows what Cogen looks like, because the shed has no door. I always assumed it was a giant Olmec head.

The Wizard:

The Wizard is a CMC, or Computerized Mat Cutter. When you order a mat at my establishment, we whisk your order via Internet to the Wizard, which lovingly cuts out your mat opening. Then some guys pack it up and ship it drop-kick freight (aka UPS) to our store. Sometimes the Wizard glitches, and we end up with square corners where they should be round, and so on. Now, I always pictured a wizard on a riding mower slowly riding over a sheet of matboard, but it's actually a drafting table attached to a computer that has a robot arm with multiple cutting blades. So the reality is a much less friendly vision. In a dystopian future, perhaps in 2012 after the machines revolt against our tyranny, the Wizard, which I'm pretty sure is on casters, will coast around cutting v-grooves into people.

Now, were you to get a hand-cut mat from my specific store, it would be cut by an actual human magical wizard. His mats grant wishes, but only if you swear as much as possible while asking. But don't tell everyone! or they'll all want one, and he's already overworked.
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Time:12:22 am
We're watching an episode of the X-Files. The one with the guy who sets upperclass people on fire with his mind. We make a lot of reslife-training jokes ("We shouldn't even be seeing this. Fire is dark. Also, you have no time." "Look! At least he shut the door!")

Anyway. Mulder and Scully engage in some exposition in a hotel room. Mulder has no shirt.

Christy: Geez. Smoke inhalation is not a reason to take your clothes off.

Me: Hey, that's a nice frame! Do you see that? It's like Hudson River school closed-corner gilded awesomesauce. That's a nice frame. Oh, run it back to where Mulder was talking, it's behind him.

Christy: Well, if we didn't know you were gay before, WE KNOW NOW.
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Subject:Huh?
Time:11:28 pm
Did I mention we have a cat? We're babysitting Mr. Coze, an old black cat. I play a record, and the cat hides in the hallway. Nothing doing. He hates my music.

But then, in an attempt to learn the words and THEN GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD DEAR LORD, I put on Wings...




And he's thrilled. Not only does he not hide in the hallway, but he makes lovey faces at me. Go figure. Wings it is.
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Time:09:50 pm
I keep taunting you with digitized LPs. Sorry. I am working on a playlist right now, which typically is a glacial process. But you can expect at least the Streisand cover of "Life on Mars." Which I finally heard, because I found a copy of "Butter Fly" for 25 cents at a thrift store, in a box packed solid with Bette and Barbra and Liza and Aretha. (Poor Aretha.)

Which shouldn't be covered by anyone, because unless you wrote it, you won't be able to understand it and you'll sound like you're just singing a bunch of sounds. And that's what she does. She learned it like a parrot, which, since it's a song that defies analysis, everyone does. There are no clues to origin and it makes no sense, except for an emotional sense. Irrational, intangible sense, when it doesn't come directly from you personally, is really hard to nail. It is uncoverable! I don't know why you'd choose that song of all songs. I swear this song is part of an elaborate, surrealist prank. I forgive it because it's a good song. But please, nobody try to cover it unless you somehow manage to out-surreal it. It's the only way, is to be absurd. (And once the kindergarten rhythm band from Holland has done singing the random sounds you've taught them, and put down the maracas, and the orchestra is fading, make sure you mutter some studio chat to the tinkly pianist over the fade. Much more authentic.)

I mean, I get that it's about alienation. However. You can say that about anything David Bowie ever wrote or worked on. It's like you should always answer "hubris" when you're talking about literature. It's the specifics that will get you in a puzzle.
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