A Trivial Comedy for serious people archives

Done is so fucking liberatingly beautifully exhileratingly doubleplusgood.

Done is Good.

How many semester-0-hell have I had here? Two in a fuckin' row.

One more, man.

2003-12-20, One more.

Oh, Salt n Pepa are so amazing.

Driving the other day, she said "Why'd they have to go and make babies and raise families and all that? They should be making music - I cannot stress this enough."

2003-12-19, The difference between a hooker and a ho ain't nothin' but a fee

A year ago - I was a wreck about my dear friend going abroad.

2003-12-19, i liked myself better then

I finally found a comfortable way of typing. The screen is a bit too far away for my eyes to be happy, but I pulled up my easy chair and can have my keyboard on my lap.

I'm thoroughly exhausted, and part of me could go to sleep right now. I'm just afraid if I take a nap I won't get up and finish this essay. I'm a little wary, because I'm going to have to drive tomorrow and I will be sleep deprived. Not great, not one bit. It's a tiresome drive as it is.

I think my tastes have grown increasingly trashy in my old age. Between the alternating obsession with Duran Duran and Peaches, I'm not sure what to make of my tastes these days. Maturing? Like a fine, cave aged Gruyere? Or just cheesy?

The safe bet is on cheesy. But when do I make safe bets?

I find that video hilarious though.

2003-12-19, lovertits

Ugh, schoolwork.

I'm done with three out of four classes. I feel wretched about some of the work I've been doing. I'm exhausted. I'm going to take a nap.

2003-12-19, ach

Am currently entertaining fantasies whereby I keep Eowyn locked in my closet for all of eternity.

Am also currently DOING WORK, but I just had to share that.

2003-12-18, she is so stunning

I loved you until we were bedded,
and our parents still talk of a wedding.
Those bruises donít betray any violence on my part,
Youíve taken my possessions, weíre both dressed up like tarts,
but itís miserable and sluttish to be acting like I do in front of you.
No matter how you try youíll never be as cheap as me,
When people have got no-one else they can always sleep with me,
and no-one else could be a better friend to you than me.

2003-12-18, Itís not love, it just smells like it,

Marylegs skinned her legs

She's my intended

That she would dishevel her hair

My only wish is she should remain here

2003-12-18, a poisonous saint

This is what I say to papers!

2003-12-18, ha! ha!

Alright Mawrtyr my darling, I'd like to know who you are. Particularly if you aren't one of my friends. I don't especially... care that other Mawrtyrs know the ins and outs of my sex life, or my "Oh my God I am writing a paper" life, but I would still like to know who you are.

Send us a postcard, drop us a line.

2003-12-17, close to home

So so so. I'm writing about 300 words an hour, which isn't bad. As opposed to having 5000 words to compose, I have 3500, which is a significant chunk. I really want to be done but I'm afraid I won't be for a while.

2003-12-17, my only wish is she should remain here

She is just a coquette and how I wish I could forget.

2003-12-17, "Avoid manic states at all costs."

Mary's laughing, just to be,
Standing next to me

2003-12-17, reprise

Other things I thought of (while in a sleep pill haze - take THAT, insomnia!):

- I never know the entire story. I can't, really, as long as I inhabit my body and everyone else inhabits theirs. And every situation in which people find themselves is historically unique.

- Maybe we have a responsibility to other human-types (especially human-friend-types) to do what we can to encourage them to the path of righteousness. Or generally, good behavior. But some of me doubts that's something that anyone but the person can choose.

I'm just running my mouth. I guess I find it difficult to be a sympathetic friend and ally when I listen to a friend relate behavior that strikes me as destructive and hurtful and whatever - bad things.

I don't know what to make of this, but it's driving me crazy.

I am going to eat a tangerine.

2003-12-17, cris du coeur

Part of me thinks: "I'm useless if I cannot pass judgment. I'm useless if everything goes. No good! Because, obviously, not everything goes. Not everything is okay."

Then part of me thinks: "You arrogant twit! First of all, you hate it when people sit in judgment of you - even when you know you're being a fool. You hate receiving good, wise advice. Idiothead. Second of all, how do you know you're in the right? Quick answer: you do not!"

In times of moral crises! like these, what do I do but turn to Nick Cave? And I mean, the Gospel According To, of course.

And God does not care for your benevolence / Anymore than he cares for the lack of it in others / Nor does he care for you to sit / At windows in judgement of the world He created / While sorrows pile up around you / Ugly, useless and over-inflated.

2003-12-16, then she drew the curtains down

(Oh, yeah - I know, look at that neat little bit of projection.

It was the dog that bit sister, Mummy! Steph brings out the worst in me! It has nothing to do with me.)

2003-12-16, this curse in my mouth

Had such a weird, confusing (confused!) conversation with le Steph about communism the other day. I don't know what we were arguing about, but she turns on the "defensively offensive" (as she puts it) in me.

So, for my essay on sexuality and Oneida, I come across a lot of psychoanalytical analysis of Mr. Noyes - the illustrious founder. I think this is great, personally, because it gives me something to put myself in conversation against. I don't really care for Freudian analysis. Let alone Lacan - who I avoid like nobody's business.

Here you go.

Today I walked around singing "Come down from the cross, we can use the wood." I also thought about this German poem I listen to, and about how I get so much out of it. Is it because of the affinity of German with English? Because I've been taking so much German studies? Or I've read a translation of the poem? Still, it's nice to not have to rely on translation.

I feel very... at ease.

2003-12-16, master debater

The insomnia bit?

Really getting old.

Sleep, good, for ever, slow and deep, spelled rare and wise

2003-12-16, my girl ranging the night in the rose and shire

before / after

archives / website / hello book / diaryland