Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
Awright, I'm allowed a dumb silly toy link once in a while, right? There's this site, Mp3Dancer, where you can download tiny little people to shake their booty on your desktop... most of the dancers are really lame, and they make you pay if you want 'em in color, but they let you download silhouettes for free (which are classier anyway, if you ask me), and they have a tango module! So right now these two elegant shadow people are tangoing on my desktop... they do it in time to the music, you see. Possibly it'll get obnoxious before long, but right now I'm kind of enchanted. Of course, they're doing it to "Best Cock on the Block" (um, mom? Don't click that link. It's naughty.) at the moment, which isn't quite right, somehow, but... hey. If you can't have the real thing... {sighhh}
_
respond?
(10)
08:48:33 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
Chronicle of Events.
So yesterday I went to Pride. I'd gone to the Millenium March on Washington in '00, but this was better. It had a nice parade, with the DC Different Drummers (yaay! band fags forever! I love a girl in uniform.), and drag queens throwing candy, and all that. The usual.
I wandered around a bit and watched everybody. Some good looking people, as you might expect. Lots of cute fuzzly-wuzzliness and kissing. There was an adorable pair of girls... sheesh, must have been in their first couple years of high school... one all wrapped up in the other one's jacket, the two of them sitting on the speaker and looking rapturous. I went and got some ice cream to atone for the onion-breath from my philly-steak sandwich. It was caramel-marshmallow-coffee with chocolate bits. I had two spoons prominently displayed, so I was hoping someone would come over and share it with me, but, alas, no one did. Couldn't finish it all, and had to chuck it. Pity.
I filled my hip flask with straight-up lime juice (y'know, the stuff that you buy in the green plastic lime-shaped thingie), which gave me a good involuntary grimace every time I sipped from it. Later I supplemented it with grenadine, and that was truly lovely.
There were purple-haired drag queens singing Eartha Kitt, a high school dance troupe (?), and a drag king who was perfectly adequate, but freaking hell. Can't a single one of 'em think of a different style of fake facial hair besides that bloody Van Dyke? If I was a drag king, I'd give myself a twirly melodrama villain moustache.
I wandered around a bit, revelled in my new legal status by going to a tough fags' leather bar. Enlightening. Very friendly, really, but dark. I tried to memorize the hanky-code chart, but it was all a bit too much to fathom in one go.
I found a glorious black coat with tails in a basement shop. It fit perfectly. I wanted to buy it, but it was $45. {sigh} I bought a bag of sourdough pretzel pieces and some water and poprocks instead.
Then I found myself in... a piano bar. Oh, Mary. Me and the fags hit it off like craaaazy. I was wearing my "Show Tunes Made Me Gay" button (and my "Congenital Invert" t-shirt. And a bowtie.), and we sang "My Fair Lady" and "South Pacific" and {shudder} "Carousel" and "Chicago" (I did "When You're Good to Mama" to wild applause") and "Cabaret" and "Into The Woods" and "The Wizard of" flipping "Oz"... gawd. It was a gas, anyway.
I wandered out into the street and kicked the litter around a bit. Then I saw a bunch of cute chicks all talking in sign language. I wrote them a note saying I hoped they didn't mind me eavesdropping; I just liked watching people talk with their hands. They passed it around and smiled. Sweet chicks.
Then I saw a guy with a Goucher keychain. I asked him if he lived in Towson, and, happily, he did. He also had these enormous things in his ears... like, huge hollow African-looking circular...things. It was very cool. He very graciously drove me home, and I went to bed, a happy heartened beast.
_
respond?
(16)
08:20:58 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
Some day I'm going to buy several bottles of bullion cubes, unwrap them all, draw myself a bath, and toss 'em in. Then I'll marinate in it for a couple hours and come out all savory...
_
respond?
(3)
08:00:13 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
It wouldn't do to do the do they're doing in the street...
_
respond?
(2)
07:59:19 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
I have seven black olives impaled on a single carrot. La-la la-la-la la!
_
respond?
(3)
05:33:21 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
Chronicle of Events?
_
respond?
04:27:12 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
I love my Dad. (`8
_
respond?
04:26:53 PM,Sunday 16 June 2002
Die Fledermaus -- Strauss, Johann
WARNING: This contains material which some people may find offensive.
I resolved to blog the result of the first word that came into my head coupled with the google "I'm feeling lucky" button. So here it is. Hope you're happy. Points if you can guess the word.
_
respond?
(8)
01:02:03 AM,Saturday 15 June 2002
I am in a small, comfortable room, all alone, eating white chocolate and staring at photos of a beautiful, beautiful woman.
_
respond?
(2)
10:04:17 PM,Friday 14 June 2002
LUST!!_
respond?
(3)
09:32:20 PM,Friday 14 June 2002
"Hey, man, I could diagram sentences like my ass was on fire."
_
respond?
12:01:46 PM,Friday 14 June 2002
Recently my mind has been responding to stress (more specifically, chemistry quizzes), by getting this one aria from I Puritani stuck in my head. It's the one my mother used to play at deafening volume over and over and over, scratchy LPs and all (she's got the CD now, mercifully), because it has Pavarotti delivering a girly falsetto at the end which she just ~swoons~ over. It must have been traumatic for my poor ears to get such massive doses of it at a tender age, since it now seems to be linked inextricably to sweaty palms and clenched teeth. Curious.
_
respond?
(1)
10:58:56 AM,Thursday 13 June 2002
You see why she's the most perfect woman in existence? You see?!
(p.s. incidentally, a couple months ago my dad recommended that if I ever wanted to convince people to overcome their aversion to Marmite I should make sure they mix it with butter which, he says, gives it an entirely new and less noxious flavor. I agreed that I liked Marmite with butter even better (in most cases) than Marmite without, but I didn't think the subtle difference would be noted by the sorts of people who can't even be in the same room with an open jar of the stuff, so I've never tried just sitting someone down and forcing them to scarf the Marmite-Butter amalgam. Guess you showed me. Score, Daddy. (`8 )
_
respond?
(7)
12:03:10 AM,Thursday 13 June 2002
Imagine a voyage to see a butter mountain.
_
respond?
(4)
10:50:16 PM,Wednesday 12 June 2002
Operas on CDs and on DVDs. Which?
Advantages to CDs:
* wider selection, including some great old remastered recordings from the 30's which were never caught on video
* some recordings staged exclusively for the studio, never performed on stage at all; most DVDs, on the other hand, are live, include applause and other audience noise, and lack the 'perfection' that can be achieved in the studio
* libretto in four languages, plus many pages of commentary
* playable in just about any boombox you're gonna find, and rippable to mp3
Advantages to DVDs:
* often much cheaper -- my Don Giovanni CD-set was $50, while my Rosenkavalier DVD was only $17
* a whole 4-hour opera on one disc -- no changing CDs every hour
* video can be more thrilling and engaging than simply audio; sets, faces, costumes are less important than voices, but still worth paying attention to
* English subtitles are almost always included as an option -- no separate libretto needed
_
respond?
(1)
10:02:56 PM,Wednesday 12 June 2002
De Gustibus Non Disputandum -- why Marmite is like it is.
See, the stuff is really very good for you, and so when it was first discovered one hundred years ago, it was pushed from the ikky-health-food angle. Especially during the war when there were meat shortages, it was seen as an important and reasonably cheap (the stuff's concentrated, y'know? plus half the reason it's so expensive to buy over here is 'cause it's imported) nutritional supplement. Apparently mothers in Britain also used it as an appetite stimulant for their nursing infants -- they put it on their nipples before they breastfed, it made the kid thirsty, and he drank more and grew faster. Anything you taste at the teat is bound to make an impression, don't you think? So they kept using it as they got older and by the time they were old enough to make their own sandwiches, they were hooked. Now there's a whole nation enslaved to the mouth-prickling taste of it. Why do I, an American hick, like it so much? Well, by a rare twist of fate. Somehow my grandfather's European travels had led him upon the stuff, and he fed it to his young son -- dunno if he could stand eating it himself, or if my aunt and uncle wound up liking it as much as my dad does -- who, because of the vital exposure before age three, got hooked for life and eats it daily on bread or matzohs with margarine and coffee. As a matter of fact, my brothers never wound up eating it, and consider it as disgusting as the rest of America does. I, though, as a young beast, sought to imitate my father in all things. I ate cheeseburgers without the cheese, like him, I bragged about my fierce temper, like his, I signed my name as Mirabai daughter of Robert son of William son of Vincent son of Henry on all my schoolwork... and I ate his yeast extract. At that time it wasn't, oddly enough, Marmite at all, but an American knock-off called Vegex, manufactured by a company whose sole products are hairnets and it. Don't really want to know why. It was cheaper and blander. Later on, I don't know quite when, we moved up to the classier stuff, my immortal yellow-topped, round-bellied, British staple. I put "Marmite Jar Collecting" under "hobbies and activities" on my SJC entrance form -- and who knows? It might have been the deciding element which got me into college in spite of dreadful grades and mediocre math scores. I don't think it's likely to develop a taste for it if you didn't get it when your tongue was tender, but if you (brave and stalwart adventurer) want to try, I'd suggest mixing it liberally with good margarine, butter, or cottage cheese, and trying it in very attenuated doses. Ah, Marmite, haughty mistress of my heart... you do not yield to the icy palates of stronger men than I... but, though I am unworthy, I am your initiate. If I were to be reborn as a slug, I would immolate myself within your glassy sepulchre, in an ecstasy of salt and sludge, dissolved by your potency, until I was -- no more!
_
respond?
09:52:48 PM,Wednesday 12 June 2002
Like this? How about a tasteful little leather number? Or perhaps something frillier? Anything but this...
_
respond?
(1)
07:57:45 PM,Wednesday 12 June 2002
What is this? Moshe who? Phrenology? Jane Austen, Borges, Barnard whats?
_
respond?
(1)
07:16:56 PM,Wednesday 12 June 2002
