silent sadness

your actions cut through me like a silver dagger entrenches its death kneel upon a helpless vampire, descending back into its fiery grave as the demonic trenches reclaim its soul

My feelings on this cold, windy fall day

my soul is a dark abyss, enveloped with sadness and pain, as my heart is filled with the darkness that is inevitably eternal

My heart has become as broken glass, scattered about in shards of remorse and desparation, allowing the cold wind of depression to seep into my now open soul.

i apologize, for the levies that keep the waters of sadness and despair in my heart have been flooded by an uncertain gloom, as the sun descends out of the sky and darkness renders my life invisible

If you are what you like, then I’m…strange

So after years of liking dark, maudlin. whiny-boy music like the Cure, Nick Cave (in all his incarnations) and the Smiths, and loud loud post-punk stuff like Fugazi, the Hospitals, etc, not to mention my white-boy blues phase (the White Stripes, Captain Beefheart, Mr. Airplane Man, the Gossip), my musical taste has totally changed. I’m totally uninterested in hipster music now. My last hipster-approved purchase was The Decemberists’ latest album a few months ago and I listened to it all of once. Ooh, you guys are so WHIMSICAL, yet FULL OF PROFOUND, QUIRKY MEANING. I’m SO IMPRESSED. Groan. All I listen to anymore is rap and classical music. In my stereo right now is Chopin’s Nocturne’s, Beethoven’s 2nd and 4th symphonies, and an Aesop Rock album.

The only thing that I can think of that these two genres have in common is that rap artists and guys like Mozart all probably got laid a lot more than weirdo grungy punk guys. Guy from Fugazi, for instance – great musician, but he’s all awkward and spastic and looks like Where’s Waldo with a unibrow.

Also, I had a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks today, and I’M NOT SORRY!!!

The End.

Senioritis

I don’t know how so many people go straight from high school to undergraduate school and then from undergraduate school right into grad school. Not to mention the freaks who decide to get PhDs right out of undergraduate school or an MA program. That’s almost all of your 20s! Ack! Hell, I don’t know how people go to undergrad for a fifth year. I’m one of the few people I know who’s graduating in four years, and I’m going out of my goddamned mind trying to finish this last one – and it’s only the first semester! I think to myself several times per day, ‘fuck 18th century French literature, I’m going to become a stripper!’ Then I think back to my recent, disastrous attempt at creating Porn Star Nails (long, shiny and square painted with really obvious white tips) and realize I’m not cut out for all that bleaching and waxing and filing.

Then I think, because I’m already on the subject of pubic hair and my desire not to have to wax it off, that there are millions of products on the market designed to remove pubic hair, but none that I know of dedicated to its upkeep. I’m fairly certain regular shampoo and conditioner probably aren’t good things to smush around near your private area, meaning someone needs to invent something hypoallergenic and…I don’t know, genital-safe.

So, you read it here first, folks. I’m quitting school to dedicate myself to pubic hair entrepreneurshipness.

Now the big question is, what I should call my product? Pubeshoo? WiryNoMore? Pubisoft?

Also, comment with your suggestions as to what I should be for Halloween. The choices are: Wonderwoman, a Mexican soap opera star, Jennifer Tilly’s character from Bound (I have someone willing to be my Gina Gershon, which will make it slightly less confusing and random) or George Sand. I’m leaning toward George Sand because it would allow me to buy and use a cigarette holder, vest and poufy 19th century man’s shirt.

I await your responses, oh faithful readers of the Internets!

Confession

I’m going to admit something that, these days, is unfashionable.

I watch television.

I watch it, I like it, I have cable, and not just for the History channel or BBC World News.

I like to watch trashy reality shows on VH1. I like cooking shows. I could probably give you a detailed list of every Food Network personality. I like stupid shows aimed at women like all those ridiculous makeover shows that I know, intellectually, are dumb and condescending, but no one’s watching me in my little studio apartment, so what the hell.

Anytime a group of 20-30 year olds get together, someone, at some point in time will declare, proudly, how little television they watch:

“I haven’t even turned *on* my TV in weeks!”

“Oooh, you have cable…wow”

“I haven’t had a TV since I was a freshman!”

“Sorry, you know, I really don’t keep up with that stuff anymore. I didn’t watch that. In fact, I never watch TV.”

I don’t know how much more of this self-important tripe I can take. Why don’t people just say what they mean? Because when I hear shit like that, I know what people are really saying is, ‘I am above popular culture, and therefore superior to you. Also, my time is so massively important that the world would come to a screaching halt if I sat down to enjoy a soccer game or an episode of Good Eats.’

Television is no better or worse for your brain than reading or looking at photographs or paintings or absorbing any other kind of media. The whole ‘TV rots your brain’ myth has come about because it’s the most ubiquitous form of entertainment, and fun and leisure makes puritanical Americans nervous, even though they crave it more than anyone. If you read novels written before the 1940s or so, you’ll see characters saying the same things to their children about reading novels.

I’m not saying that my morbid fascination with Breaking Bonaduce is admirable or a sign of great intellectual rigor on my part, and there’s nothing wrong with not liking television or not being able to afford one or whatever, but don’t act like you’re above it. The box is also a mirror, and frankly I think it’s irresponsible not to look into it once in awhile, even if you don’t always like what you see.

P.S. I am a copy editor.