Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
Speaking of similes, my two most recent favorites from Gormenghast are:
"As quick off the mark as a pregnant turtle."
and
"A horrible sound of laughter, like porridge."
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(1)
09:59:56 AM,Wednesday 30 June 2004
Your lips were like wine (if you'll pardon the simile)
The music was lovely and quite Rudolf Friml-ly.
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10:08:02 PM,Tuesday 29 June 2004
In no particular order: applied to three jobs, taste-tested borscht and asparagus soup, folded laundry, printed out and half-assedly played through as-yet-unarranged Schumann lied, took shower, daydreamed, flounced around nakedly, got dressed, listened to Gormenghast, cleaned amplifier's contacts, harrassed cat, wasted time on internet, sat on terrace, wasted more time, blogged.
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10:05:00 PM,Tuesday 29 June 2004
And it turns out that what I thought was a blown-out speaker was really a dirty contact. D'oh. I mean, it still distorts a little on the high notes when I really crank it, but it's at least 88% more Jussilicious than before.
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05:17:54 PM,Tuesday 29 June 2004
Amorality is overrated.
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04:15:23 PM,Tuesday 29 June 2004
I just made my cat purr. I feel like a million bucks.
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(4)
03:56:22 PM,Tuesday 29 June 2004
You very imperfect ablutioner.
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12:59:18 PM,Tuesday 29 June 2004
This isn't mine; I got it from my girl, and she got it from Richard Hofstadter. But I'm putting it down. It's important.
Playfulness and Piety.
She explains:
"Without piety, the intellectual becomes glib and trivial, and without playfulness, a monomaniac."
I've just read something with plenty of playfulness but no piety. It unsettled me. And I don't have to talk about piety without playfulness to this crowd. When my brother was here, he told me that I lived my life Nichomachean Ethics style. And I've been thinking about it -- I kinda do. I mean, in how I aspire to things. I'm always aiming and correcting and straining and slouching and lambasting myself but picking up and going forward... and it's good, for now. The good thing about it is it's not discrete; there's no before and after. It's the whole length of your life, broken into little fragments. They add together, they cancel each other out, but they can't ever be seen completely separately from the rest. There's something more, but it can't be manipulated. These can, and understood, too, as well as anything can be. It's comforting, and it's useful. So anyway. Playfulness and piety.
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(1)
05:38:35 AM,Monday 28 June 2004
Awww! I want a Kissing Shoulder Demon too!
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(6)
11:03:15 PM,Sunday 27 June 2004
Craving caper berries.
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10:11:37 PM,Sunday 27 June 2004
Ack! Bullfinch exploded in my backpack and contaminated my boxing wraps.
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06:50:08 PM,Sunday 27 June 2004
Current Music: Corpus Christi Carol.
Current Mood: Blissful.
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(2)
06:05:39 AM,Sunday 27 June 2004
Those Outrageous Miras.
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05:50:48 AM,Sunday 27 June 2004
First, thunder and lightning. Now, an amateur rock band and the scent of baking bread.
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09:17:03 PM,Saturday 26 June 2004
Really, it's not like I want to lose the belly entirely. It may just come in handy some day, after all. But I want to turn it from a Wiggly Jiggly Social Democratic Potbelly into a Firm Communist Potbelly. ("You'd bop it, and it'd bop you back -- it was strong.") {makes a note to start doing daily situps to the Internationale}
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(2)
03:46:25 PM,Saturday 26 June 2004
The worst thing is not being able to turn your proofreading reflex off when you're reading something that can't be corrected.
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(2)
02:55:34 PM,Saturday 26 June 2004
O.o.C.Q.o.t.D.: "My000sylahjjjjjjje."
Edit -- New O.o.C.Q.o.t.D.: "'You got heretic in my instrument!' 'You got instrument in my heretic!'"
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12:47:25 PM,Saturday 26 June 2004
Petty tyrants.
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10:51:38 AM,Friday 25 June 2004
Work is gonna suck tonight. Having lunch with a high school friend at noon tomorrow is gonna suck worse. I can hear the wobbly strains of the godawful community band concert coming from the park. It matches my wobbly brainpan at the moment. Less Sousa in here, though. My jukebox went into overheated shutdown for the first time ever today, in the middle of a six gig transfer. Happy summer. But it's just about perfect when you're lying still and naked in a shadowy house without any electronics in your belly. French bread with butter suddenly started tasting incredibly, inexplicably good this afternoon. I've had four pieces and I'm still ravening for it. From how it's looking now, I'll arrive in New York with not many specific prospects but more money than I expected (I got a retroactive raise with a year of back pay; when I quit, I'll get paid for about 110 hours of unused vacation time; and the $500 I had been expecting to have to pay to the credit card company turned out to be a balance in my favor that I'd been pumping money into since December, never understanding why it just wouldn't get any smaller, d'oh. A hint: on bills, minus means good.) I'm reading I, Claudius. It's pretty much rocking. Though I'm in the awkward position of having had an actor stand in for a character in my head for years before ever reading the book (I think I even remember seeing him do his schtick while reading Tacitus). But he's a damn good actor, so I'm not too bothered. I've given up on sleeping. I'm just gonna lie here and breathe warm air. I feel like a catoblepas.
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(5)
10:47:01 PM,Wednesday 23 June 2004
