Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
I know, I know, you've heard it all before, it's redundant, you're sick to death of it, but -- ay! I can't help it. I'm her willing slave. Yes, I'm afraid that T.I.A.Y.A.I.L.W.: Marlene Dietrich. {sighhhh}
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(3)
04:42:15 AM,Monday 3 June 2002
Marlene Dietrich is singing a tango to a Johnny... I was gonna be in love with Tallulah Bankhead today, but... {gulp}
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(2)
03:39:01 AM,Monday 3 June 2002
How many years do you think it'll take for "fuck" to lose nearly all the obscenity it ever had and become as acceptible in front of children and old people as "damn" or "hell" or even "bloody"?
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(4)
03:14:17 AM,Monday 3 June 2002
I'm having particularly strong "wish my mom had taught me Norwegian" pangs at the moment.
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(2)
02:32:21 AM,Monday 3 June 2002
The Chemistry professor is making us all download a program called "Curve Expert". Heh heh heh. "Ma'am? I need you to step over here. Yes, right there. Now turn around. Good. No need to worry, Ma'am -- I'm an Expert."
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(4)
12:19:47 AM,Monday 3 June 2002
Sardine Sandwich
(to the tune of "Blackstrap Molasses")
I'm eatin' a sardine sandwich on potato bread,
gotta clean my room before I clean my head,
The Flying Dutchman wouldn't spurn this spread,
'cause it's a sardine sandwich on potato bread.
Inky-dinka-Inky-dinka-Inky-dinka-doo
Well, midnight's comin' and I'm feelin' fine,
Got two lab reports to write 'fore half past nine,
My orange juice is pulpy, and my grapes got seeds,
It ain't too familiar -- you know what that breeds.
I ate a sardine sandwich on potato bread,
Now I'm happy and a-fully fed,
Your mind at night cuts a peculiar tread,
When you eat sardine sandwiches on tater bread.
Ah-ha-cha-cha-cha!
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(1)
12:09:37 AM,Monday 3 June 2002
I wrote this a couple weeks ago very late at night, and saved it to my desktop under the name "what this world needs". I'm sick of it being on my desktop, so I figured I'd blog it.
'A game that can be played with your eyes closed. Obviously, it would be popular among blind people too, but it would be mainly for video addicts with tired eyes. Without the use of a rumble pack, which would limit the market rather too much, it would seem to have to be sound-directed, and keyboard or voice controlled. (probably keyboard). except possibly with the mouse, like a what are those things called? I know the name... um, has an "o" in it, I think. ophleicleide? is that it? no, I think that's a sort of tuba or something. It's something else... a... a... theramin! Yes! Some sort of mouse-controlled theramin? The main objective, either way, would have to be avoiding maddening obnoxiousness in the sounds. Imagine if you had to listen to only the sounds of any video game you could name. Drive you nuts. So the sound would have to be complex and hopefully musical. I also think that the game should be fairly mindless; a reflex-game, along the lines of tetris or pinball, simply because when a gamer's eyes are tired, the rest of him is too, and he won't be much in the mood for complex strategy. Though a blindfolded ninja game might be pretty damn cool. Dunno. "Don't you know he can do it in the dark?" Heh heh.'
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(3)
09:57:13 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
You want bread, sleep with a baker. Thomaschevsky gives tickets!
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09:33:10 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
Not to put a bummer on things, but I found this poem in some obscure book freshman year, and copied it into my Greek notebook. I forgot about it until it was quoted in a trashy novel I read just recently, and I don't want to forget it again, so I'm posting it on my blog. It's one of those things; you know. Forgive me.
Thomas Nashe
In Time of Pestilence
1593
ADIEU, farewell earth's bliss!
This world uncertain is:
Fond are life's lustful joys,
Death proves them all but toys.
None from his darts can fly;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Rich men, trust not in wealth,
Gold cannot buy you health;
Physic himself must fade;
All things to end are made;
The plague full swift goes by;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen's eye;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector brave;
Swords may not fight with fate;
Earth still holds ope her gate;
Come, come! the bells do cry;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Wit with his wantonness
Tasteth death's bitterness;
Hell's executioner
Hath no ears for to hear
What vain art can reply;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
Haste therefore each degree
To welcome destiny;
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player's stage.
Mount we unto the sky;
I am sick, I must die—
Lord, have mercy on us!
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06:40:05 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
T.I.A.I.L.W.: Eartha Kitt. "Say, don't you remember, they called me 'Al'! It was 'Al' all the time..."
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(1)
06:01:41 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
Yay!! The Derivative Duo have a webpage! They played for Helena Pride last year, but I missed 'em. {snif!}
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04:39:58 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
I have spaghetti sauce in my hair. Why do Americans put sugar in their spaghetti sauce? Dumbasses.
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02:58:01 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
Class here is good so far. The professor is real articulate and interesting, and even the textbook is pretty good; lotsa pictures. And I get to play with neat stuff in the lab. The professor, though, has got the craziest accent I ever heard. It sounds completely American, flawless, like, New Jerseyish, sorta, but more neutral. Except -- when he says his 'R's, like in the sentence, "Radium is radioactive, but Freon is really intractable", he sounds ultra über German. It's so funny; usually people have a mild accent or a heavy accent, but his is completely two-tone. If he could go through a sentence without an 'R' of any kind, no one would think he was anything but born and bred American. Not even Canadian! It's that apple pie. But just one "Write a lab report for Friday", and he's a total Foreign Gentleman. It's cute. His name is Nordulf Debye, and he has sweet pictures on his webpage. I like it here.
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(1)
02:48:10 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
My jew's harp is the only utensil I've used in a week. I feel so hardcore!
Though... that's not actually true. I used my toothbrush to spread some Marmite on a piece of bread last night, so I guess that makes it a knife. Damn.
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(9)
02:20:09 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
I have bad posture. So, when I sit, I slouch. If I sit slouching for a long time, my body folds in on itself, and makes these little symettrical marks. It makes me look like a caterpillar. I have five pairs of legs! It would be nice to have five pairs of legs.
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(1)
02:05:02 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
Score. (Literally.) Just what I need to start me off on my new life. (Har.)
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12:39:49 AM,Sunday 2 June 2002
18-year old single malt boobies!
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07:19:29 PM,Saturday 1 June 2002
GIVE ME... SOME LIGHT!!
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05:50:01 PM,Saturday 1 June 2002
sjcsf.edu is down (dunno for how long), so I can't read various bits of yummy/important email that come my way. This sux0r, as my nephew would say. On the other hand, it's beautiful outside, I'm wearing a warm soft comforting thingie (over my studly-ass Euclid 3:16 shirt), and I'm thinking maybe of being somewhere other than my room or the science building today, possibly even several blocks away, for (ooh! I shiver!) an hour or two. That would be studly. But first -- lab. I get to use burets. OooOOOooh!
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(2)
10:19:45 AM,Friday 31 May 2002
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, dear Mamale,
Happy Birthday to you!
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(3)
06:19:37 AM,Friday 31 May 2002
