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March 22, 2004
end of an era
no one's going to coachella this year. it's kind of sad. end of an era of 2 years. 2 glorious years. heh. admittedly i'm not positive that no one's going. and this no one obviously only includes people i know. not the unwashed masses which i'm sure are still going. but jacob and dianna dropped out. and this was after kim and kristen had already dropped out. and i had pretty much dropped out. marina was dropping out. erica was bound to drop out. nuala and kati vol were still up for grabs. but grabby hands are the devil's playground and they probably would have come over to the dark dropping out side too. if not though, i still have the hotel rooms but i'm going to cancel them soon. however if anyone wants to make a bid for them quick i could transfer them over to someone else's name. now i will go mope, accepting defeat. resigned, raggedy, revolutionary. maybe next year?
Posted by michele at 01:00 PM | Comments (6)
March 19, 2004
science
walking up the back stairs this morning to campus, i noticed that the smushed snail population appears to have quadrupled. also now there are many, many more baby snails (still alive) wandering around the steps. i contemplated several times moving some of the baby snails off the steps so they didn't get squash-crunched as their older relatives have. pity for snails.
then i started wondering, honestly, where do baby snails come from? so i checked. it's disgusting. i no longer feel the need to save them from other people's feet. i'm still going to be careful not to step on them, but that's mostly a gross factor of wearing thin flip flops and not wanting snail guts on my bare feet. not that i know if they have guts in the sense of which i am thinking. but certainly...they eat plants...so they must have a gastric system.
plus though anyway there's that noise they make when you do step on them from the shell cracking, you know? that's a terrible noise. it always makes me flinch. all right, now i feel bad for them again. no one deserves to be stepped on. but wait, let's read the procreation process again together.
The first thing that a newly hatched snail does is to find food. It will eat whatever that is left of its eggshell too. It will also eat any eggs that have not hatched yet.
frothy slime, poo, and cannibalism. delightful.
Posted by michele at 10:44 AM | Comments (4)
March 16, 2004
happy birthday, jenny
dear jenny,
happy birthday cuteness! i know i don't call as much as i should or write or visit. but i love you and i am so, so impressed by everything you've managed to accomplish/survive since we graduated. you are amazing. you deserve so many vacations, more sleep, and chocolate. i hope the extendo hobbitsssss and lego(la)s(!) will keep you entertained though. =)
love,
michele
Posted by michele at 02:35 PM | Comments (2)
March 13, 2004
you sexy thang
i don't have time right now to scan any more of these pictures. hell, i don't even have time for this one. but i couldn't resist. oh jason, oh oh jason.
thank you for giving me this photographic opportunity.
Posted by michele at 06:22 PM | Comments (8)
March 10, 2004
top of the mark
last night i went to work at the center for pacific studies gala honoring banquet/fund-raising auction menagerie. it was at the mark hopkins intercontinental hotel at 999 california. top of a hill, panoramic city views, little pastries passed around after the speeches. theoretically i was there as a volunteer to help out. mostly i stood around eyeing the crowd and the hotel vacation stays up for bid. they were covering tahoe to cabo san lucas. plus there was a lot of wine up for auction, art, passes to SF events and museums and theme parks, and a signed photo of jackie chan. ha! in the middle of the gala, while drooping from the boring thank you speeches of the honorees, myself and 2 other volunteers from my program elected to ride the elevator up the the bar/lounge on top. called 'top of the mark' this place is very classy elegant with it's windows on all 4 sides, little tables, dim lighting, cocktails, and live piano music reminiscent of riding the esalator in the walnut creek nordstroms (supper club take note, we should round out a meeting there someday).
Posted by michele at 01:01 PM | Comments (0)
March 08, 2004
procrastinating paper writing
recently i had a sushi party at my apartment for nuala who was visiting. during this party, i made tempura. which was tasty. even jason's cookie which we fried, and the wasabi ball. and mostly the sushi balls. the one bad thing about the event was the hot oil burns i suffered on my right arm. painful and then funnily colored, i was intrigued by these pain filled pustules. however, about an hour ago the biggest one of them split open in two places and is now this open screaming wound that gapes like a slightly soggy mouth. it kind of glistens under the light. i'm not sure what to do now. but typing hurts due to the skin stretching as my fingers reach for keys.
gene will probably yell "aloe" at me again.
Posted by michele at 08:56 PM | Comments (6)
no fax, no xerox, no telex, no floppies. i'm just my father's carbon copy!
recently i spoke with some friends from high school who i haven't talked to in a long, long time. well, one of them i've talked to. and even seen, (not within the last year). and sporadically exchanged emails with. but the other one i haven't seen or spoken to since the summer after my freshman year of college.
i'm both delighted and made vaguely nervous by this reconnecting business. how much have i changed in 6 years? i think possibly quite a bit. maybe. certainly i talk somewhat differently. as has been pointed out to me on the phone.
it's just, i don't know, a little strange. but exciting. even if now i never actually get to see them it's the kind of excitement that has a whole town talking about that time last year when farmer jebediah's pig got drunk on homemade gin and tore thru the football field during homecoming. it's the kind of fascinating event which brightens up the normal humdrum rush of ordinary life which i have come to expect. kind of like bill finding us on the internet. like that. something out of the ordinary which will give me ample opportunity to embellish in my imagination/day dream ruminations for weeks, or months, to come.
just last night, for example, i dreamt that james and i went to this place called "jail pot" and there were a lot of drug addicts there. also...they had rooms you could rent. sex cubbies you could say. i woke up in a state of horror when we walked in the door of said cubby. but i enjoyed the psychoanalyst interpretation.
even more i enoyed making goo goo eyes at a 15 year old tonight at dinner. he was at a table near mine with his parents and friend and friend's parents. he completely ignored my existance thru the 2 hours we were both there. but when he ordered the chocolate cake and took the first bite. i pretty much feel in love with the melting expression of pure orgasmic feeling that crossed his face. he seriously sucked on that spoon. watching him pull it out of his mouth so slowly like a qualified tease, eyes half closed--i wanted to moan right along with him.
fucking 15 year olds. i mean that in both senses of the world. sick. seriously. sick. ...you know what?--why do i always have to fake guilty feelings over this? i don't feel that bad for being attracted to 15 year olds. i'm not actually having sex with them. and probably wouldn't if i had the chance. so i shouldn't feel bad about it anyway.
(note: title of this post taken from a line in a song from this really terrible indian movie that i recently watched. i stared at the subtitles in consternation the first time they sang it. then i rewound to make sure i was not imagining things.)
Posted by michele at 12:16 AM | Comments (7)
March 07, 2004
fjords!: the musical--on location
not only did i open the package, i then scanned one of the contents of the package.
Posted by michele at 02:00 PM | Comments (1)
dear ed
Posted by michele at 01:58 PM | Comments (0)
March 02, 2004
sufi mysticisim: sushi spins 'conference of the birds'
The flamingo states his happiness with his lot
Another bird proclaimed, “You must agree
No bird could ever be as happy as me.
All day long I feast on shrimp,
Till I am round and fat as a blimp.
From my indulgence I turn such a glorious pink,
That all others in beauty below me must sink.
Why should I give up a life of satiating pleasure?
The goal of the Way seems foolish beyond measure—
To be inferior to the Simorgh’s station
Is no replacement for eating crustaceans.”
The hoopoe’s answer
The hoopoe scorned, “To speak merely of eating
Is only so much trivial bleating.
If you can not see the everlasting benefits that before you lay
Perhaps you do not deserve to join us on the Way.
A mind focused on the feast
Is on a level with a savage beast.
To join the Simorgh at his holy throne
Will mean you never again have to eat alone.
His love will fill you more,
Than shrimp ever did before.
Listen to my pithy fables and repent
The waste of your life you have heretofore spent.
Posted by michele at 10:32 PM | Comments (5)
system shock: media intake
in the last two weeks i've re-read all 10 of the anita books and re-watched roswell seasons 1 and 2. my brain hurts now. also, everything has kind of bled into one another, even though teenage aliens and a vampire executioner are really completely different storylines.
the other day i walked across a crosswalk in front of a car after having made eye contact with the driver to make sure he saw me, right? so he wouldn't roll over me. but he and his little co-pilot punk both made noises of "whoa." "hey." "whatcha think you're doing walking in front of my car, biotch." and my automatic response was to shove my arms in thru the driver side window, pull out that bastard and beat the shit out of him. possibly then also to raise some zombies and have them eat him. round it all out by making cd's play without a player, maybe. just to tie in some alien power with the violent aggressive behavior of anita. i feel the need for guns and multiple knives with various sheaths. to take martial arts. to have lots of sex with lots of different men, none of whom are human and all of whom have hair to their waist or longer.
i'm taking up issue though with book number 10. which always now reminds me of kati vol since it's named cerulean sins. the number of inaccuracies in this book is staggering. both from what's gone on in other books and what happens in the self-same fucking book. how old is damien? is he a thousand as all the other books have said? or 600 as this one says? how many times can jean-claude wear a blue shirt in a new shade that she's never seen before? does musette have the ability to tell lies or not? this changes within a couple chapters. sooo irritating.
i'm tied down. i'm wrapped up. i'm a blank. i need my own personality back.
Posted by michele at 12:27 AM | Comments (5)
something middle-eastern
it's become automatic to cover my nipples everytime he gets close to my breasts. self-defense at its best. the weight as he presses down on them is almost like pain, it treads the line into something which makes me hiss. exploring further south he leaves me with pelvic bruising. something which isn't actually visible, but bound to be there because air oofs out of my stomach and i tense up wishing it would stop. lying between my knees he stretches out to ravage my inner thighs.
Posted by michele at 12:17 AM | Comments (6)