| Also... |
[Oct. 8th, 2006|11:59 pm] |
You're coming. |
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| I put a spell on you |
[Oct. 1st, 2006|03:58 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | I Will Dare, The Replacements | ] |
Taking the trash out this afternoon I glanced over to our fledgling lime tree and saw a mysterious amber colored bottle at its base.
On closer inspection, the contents of the bottle revealed a thick, viscous, amber fluid with a small mushroom lodged inside.
If you look at the top of the bottle you'll notice the opening is much smaller than the head of the mushroom. This leads me to believe that it was grown inside the bottle instead of placed.
I have no idea how long it has been there. Months, years, last Halloween.
I've thought about it and the only logical explanation is that it is a hex. There is a hex on the house and the persons therein.
Even though things are actually going really well for me, it only means that the person who gave us this hex is incompetent. Or...it's on time release? Or I'm going down a horrible path of doom and despair...nah. And, hey, it could be a positive hex. A charm, I guess? I'll have to refer back to the Harry Potter lexicon for that one.
And, no, I don't want to theorize about any other explanations they aren't nearly as fun.
I am now obsessed with finding the corresponding spell. I don't want to move it. Maybe I will incur some unknown wrath lying dorment. I already feel I've handled it too much.
If anyone knows anything about hexes, charms, or hoodo spells of any kind (I'm in need of a refresher since my Wiccan High Schooler days where I did, not one, but two separate research papers on Voodoo and its offshoot practice, Hoodoo. Not a hint of a surprise on your face, huh?)
And to completely do away with any doubts about my status as a primo geek of the highest order (which, again, coming from a person who still has the AIM name of Eldorkorpide from Junior High, should have none of you scratching your head).
You remember that scene in Buffy season, I'm going with, 5, where Spike is nailing the Buffy Bot in the cemetery?
Good...me too :) |
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| One Year |
[Sep. 12th, 2006|08:38 pm] |
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I might just say I'm dropping out of college until I graduate. I might just. |
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| If I were a DJ, I'd be DJ BOT MITZVAH |
[Jul. 12th, 2006|07:00 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | ranty | ] |
| [ | music |
| | CSS | ] |
I am supposed to be the Jellybean Enema.
And I'm failing by succeeding.
I am addicted to the lifestyle I had sworn was ridiculous and worth tearing apart with much fang.
But it's strong in me. The desire to be seen. SEEN. Card carrying SCENE-whore.
At your service.
I like these people.
As my dear, my "handmaiden", my partner in crimes of fashion, loves to remind me: we are clearly (obviously) much smarter. And by virtue, better. Right? Isn't it so? How many have the know how, but not true knowledge. Like knowing the right factoid, the right pop culture bon mot. She reminds me that many have nothing by way of conversation or insight.
She may be right.
But I like these people.
I like hugging them. I like kissing them. I like when we can all be foolish together. There are fools out there. And we dance. We like to enable others to dance. And drink. And be merry. And force art passively. This is a CAUSE.
Most nights.
Other nights you see the initial ridiculousness that made you seethe. That made you wish you belonged to a time with ambitions other than fashion. The top of the pops are royalty as voted by you and your attendance and by way of nit-grit-and tits.
These are people unimpressed by beauty. Or, rather
they believe in its absolute value. Beauty is ones calling card.
It gets you in.
It makes you friends.
It is a standard for entry into the echelon.
The standard is beauty. Ineffable.
Beauty is mundane, a standard upheld and rewarded
as a ho-hum feat of a successful gamble in the genetic crap shoot.
If you were not beautiful you would not be there.
If you are not beautiful you had better be talented
(see also: rich) (see also: clever) (see also: in association
with one in possesion of these elements by virtue of where you
were born, who you were born to, or the proximity to their chair in homeroom).
What does it all lead to? Heightened sense of worth?
Like contact highs from corrosive white lines, and from the
immediate passing of street lines and the belief that one's face will never
bear those lines like ones well past their welcome.
This is a court. We are all wigged and powdered. WE DEMAND YOUR EYES ON US! Watch me on the dance floor! Feed my narcissism by taking my picture! Prove I was there! Find me on MySpace! Get me past the lines! Put me on your list!
On this and all counts I am guilty, guilty, guilty. And I love it. I always dress in costume, but I wonder if the costume is taking over. Has my drag made me turn girl?
I like the pictures. It seems everyone wants to be a Snake. You have a camera, you document the scene. I can think of three with an eye for it. One in particula I just want to tell, "Take it, but know that I see you. That you're great. That I don't come here for this expressly. That we just go to the same places and enjoy the same people. I swear. I enjoy you without the camera".
But I don't know how.
This is helping my career. Right? I am an Actress. Local celebrity first then, tomorrow, the world! Or...is it giving me an avenue to something else? I can DJ? I can promote/host? I can bring theatre to the hipsters? (that last one keeps me awake at night with worry from lack of plausibility). Or can I just settle for a good time? Let the children play!
Will you still want me around when you realize that I want friendship and (usually) not your hand down my pants?
Will I still be taken care of?
Or is it just about time to take things into my own hands. |
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| Free the orphan gears! |
[Jul. 1st, 2006|07:17 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  hot | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Chelsea Hotel No. 2, Leonard Cohen | ] |
Thursday I went to the, A Scanner Darkly, premiere.
(I won the tickets from indie by calling. Which is never supposed to happen. They announced it on air, and I called in presuming I would not get through. But by presuming I made a pre out of you and me? Point is, I called and won. Afterwords I had a nice chat with TK driving from USC to SMC which mostly consisted of us quoting Anchorman. Thanks to Kim and Christine I've seen that movie a thousand plus times).
This is only the second premiere I've been to, and I can honestly say it's a hoopla I can get used to. My date and I almost missed it, however, due to traffic. The whole shebang was at the Ford Ampitheatre, which I don't think I've ever been to. I have a vague memory of seeing Peter and the Wolf there when I was maybe 4 or 5, but I think I'm confusing it with the Hollywood Bowl. They didn't actually seem to have my name on any list, but I said I won and they just believed me for some odd reason. I guess I have an honest face? An honest face that kinda wants to go to all the premieres durring the LA festival with the same line, "Oh, I won the tickets from Indie."
I didn't see Keanu, but I did catch Woody Harrelson on the stairs. And by catch I mean I caught him checking out my ass. Now clearly I mention this as a self serving gesture. And I understand how much this is a minor point to the story. But, seriously. If Woody Harrelson checked out YOUR ass, I think you'd make a little footnote in your Dear Diary you Pointy-finger-Pete.
I actually have a great desire to review this film more formally in another post. But, I think I will have to see it again to put the right phrasing to it. I will say that I loved it and that all the actors, Robert Downey (I'm a fucking genius and should get away with murder-drug charges-child abduction-whale penetration) Jr. in particular, were phenomenally committed and absolutely fantastic to watch. The animation/rotoscoping, contrary to a few reviews, was an engrossing visual tool and not a crutch for a lackluster script. The script was hilarious and endlessly quotable.
Spread your love July 7th between some P.K. Dick and Pirate lovin'. You'll be glad you did.
p.s. The Leonard Cohen docu-concert is worth seeing only for the all too brief Cohen interview and Rufus being the bitchy queen he is. Some of the performances were beautiful, but the editor should be sacked. |
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| Bats over Supes any day, but... |
[Jun. 28th, 2006|02:33 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  impressed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Eraser, Thom Yorke | ] |
...that was damn fine entertainment. Why couldn't Singer have put that much integrity into X-men? And by integrity I mean competent (and intentionally hilarious) script.
Also Brandon Routh is of my tribe, no?
Also, also, as miscast as Kate Bosworth is, the one thing that really sang soundly in my heart was this. She's not Katie Holmes, saints be praised! |
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| BurrURB..excuse me! |
[Jun. 19th, 2006|02:08 pm] |
One for the scrapbook.
Remember back in april? http://jlybeanenema.livejournal.com/76025.html
Let me tell you about a night. A night where in a span of a couple of hours I was introduced to The Hear Gallery, Jaangle, and (snappy snappy) Ellei J.
Thanks to that fateful first night at the Hear Gallery, lo that San Frangeles ago, where I thought, "I haven't worn this Purim mask in a forever," the world can now see me in periodical form...and never know who the fuck it is.
Guess I'll have to go for the cover next time.
Pick one up. Post it on your locker/place of business/dart or head board. Make your own masked Charley paper doll. Or, you could just look at it for free in my picutre index. Cheap skates. |
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