March 28th thru April 3rd, 2004

I got home and I ate and recorded songs off of Pit Droids. A wind-down kinda thing.

Okay, we bowled, and only managed 1 point out of 3 against one of the worst teams in the league because A) they all bowled WAY above their averages for a change and B) we bowled below ours. Or at least I did. Punky Screwster, though, bowled a 136, her all-time high. Afterwards, I DDR'd with another bowler till I was sweaty like no one knows, and then some grub with my teamates while we gossipped about naughty things. And that's IT! No more bowling until May 3rd.

Finished the Exelon proposal, started the AOL proposal. Mashed play DDR style. Went to the store for Pringles and Cucumber Ranch dressing. Bought a copy of PC Gamer magazine because of the blurb on the front. What a crock. It doesn't tell you how at all, and the word "exactly" makes it especially misleading. Even if they hadn't lied to get me to buy the damn thing, the article itself is not well written anyway. And that has always been my chief complaint about video-game magazines-- they are horribly horribly horribly written. They have no journalistic integrity whatsoever. Forever and always, Penny Arcade remains the best news source for video game information.

To explain, a bit: about a year ago or so I started playing the massively multiplayer online Star Wars Galaxies, and like everyone else, did the massive grinding thing (grinding is to play relentlessly for hours/days at a time, doing repeative tasks to gain experience) to get as close to becoming a jedi as possible. I made considerable progress, even becoming a bounty hunter, but soon the game became stagnant, and since they weren't saying HOW to become a jedi, there was no "hope" in sight (that's a pun if anyone cares). Turns out these games are multiplayer for a reason, and while I did make a few friends while playing, it wasn't like it is in real life, looking forward to scheduled events with close buddies.

So, the above article: very not informative, but, it seems, my own character may have, in fact, been on the right track. So maybe I'll load it up again, pay the online fee, and start over. Who knows. I DID have fun meeting famous non-player characters and getting photos with them-- maybe I can do that again. (You can look at my bulletin board of polaroids if you want).

Just so you know: while capturing the images in the interlude below, photoshopping them, writing the copy, and then adding the notes for today's entry up to this point, I listened to the entire movie Lost in Translation. I used to be fast, now I am slow. Ah well.

The day ended at coffee SBC style, Guaymas, and home for me.

I FINALLY figured out how to get a mostly GOOD sound out of the consoles (PS2 and XBox) into the computer for some MP3 recording. So that's what I did ALL day. While recording, I played the game using the hand-controller. Funny, I found that I had to speed up the arrows in order to hit the more accuratly. Ain't that a hoot and a holler and a choice tidbit for contemplation?

Had lunch at Ye Olde IHOP with Kizkaskoiz, who, alas, is ill with some sort of ear thing. Poor thing. I had not JUST a club sandwhich but an international club sandwhich. And onion rings. Your jealousy is palpable to me and I kan taste it like the remnants of a sneeze in the air. Hey, this is totally unrelated-- you know that phrase people will say if the catch you staring: "Take a picture, it lasts longer"? I hate that. If someone says that to me, reply will be, "kiss my ass, it tastes better." And if they say "better than what?" I'll say, "better than the BS coming out of your mouth right now." Except I won't say "Bee-Ess." I'll say bullshit.

I bought this game called Sacred cause many people claimed it was JUST like Diablo II and I frickin' loved that game. So I went and got it. Feh. It's allright. My character, Miterexia, is a vampiress. That means she can turn into a vampire at night, like a werewolf turns into a beast under the full moon. Right now she's level 8, and I'm grinding for level 9 so she can wear some armor she found.

Drank much of the coconut rum and orange juice while playing. Giggles.

This is Scarlett Johansson's posterior as featured in the opening shot of Lost in Translation. Lost is a poignant tale of two souls who find kinship amid their confusion and loneliness while temporarily stranded in Tokyo. Somehow, this image is supposed to convey something like that.

This is a painting by acclaimed artist John Kacere (1920-2000). Obviously, it was the inspiration for the opening shot above. Kacere studied art in Iowa, and painted abstracts until about 1963 when he switched to so-called "photo-reallistic" work.

This is my ass. Its shape and texture can be attributed to years of biking, a penchant for Romio's pizza, and a fondness for napping in tanning salons. The boxer-briefs are Jockey, of course.

This a shot from a porn site. Her name is Daisy. She's 18 years old, 5'1", brunette hair, brown eyes, tattoo of a butterfly on her hip, lives in Las Vegas, and loves: dancing, snowboarding, and teasing boys

So, what should I do? Should I move to Hollywood and ask Sofia Copolla to put me in her next picture? Should I go to New York, find some promising young artist, and pose? Should I set up a web cam, take a picture of my breasts, and ask people to buy me things on my Amazon.com wishlist? Or should I just seek serious psychiatric help?

Thank goodness for plastic, hollah! Today while walking out of a room carrying something I kicked the doorframe, hard, and if it weren't for my plastic puma soccer sandals, I'd be in the emergency room, no foolin. And later, while stepping out of my short-closet (see photo) I hit my head on the frame, but hard, and if it weren't for the headphones I was wearing, I'd be bloody, angry, and dizzy. Hooray-petroleum based housewares!

I just can't stop moving. No caffeine to blame, no wonderful night's sleep. Things have been so chaotic. If you have a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink, piles of laundry to do, bills to pay your desktop in disarray, that's not chaos, that's just a mess. But I had piles of clean laundry to fold, a dishwasher full of clean dishes to put away, bills with checks in envelopes waiting for stamps, and my desktop in disarray. That. my friends, is chaos. I can't concentrate. I feel like I am being, not pulled, but gently coaxed in too many directions at the same time. Shall we blame video games, shall we blame breaking out of my routine with me previous and impending trip? Biting off more than I can chew? Friends, I can chew a lot. So who knows. So I'm going to Starbuck's now to drink caffeine, listen to DDR songs very louldy, and do several crossword puzzles. This miasma of stimuli in a public place will either ironically calm my ass down or driving totally fershnizzle batty.

Went to the First Thursday art walk thing. You know this thing. There I lectured people on my verginity (spelled correctly). I'll interlude what it means to be a vergin sometime. I'll also interlude why its okay to verb nouns and what the "true" rules of language are. The art was good, but its all about the people. I'll interlude "frames," "contexts," "intent" and "tertiary qualities of quadrary meaning in dually non-existent definitions," and "the collapsing waveforms of philosophy." Yeah. I was @#$%^&* brilliant the other night.

Dinner at the Alibi Room. I'll lecture y'all on the filet mignon... never.

By the way, I hate Jack, that mofo.

Now its time to go help someone MOVE. From one domicile to another. Later.

Helped Frab move from Shoreline to downtown and we did it record time. Then I ran from home around the west side of Greenlake to the post office, and ran back up the east side to SBC for a Strawberry X-Tea, and then walked home, and my #$%^&* running shoes made my achille's bleed, the bastards. Didn't much of nuthin at home, so back to SBC for a hot cocoa and a peak at the cute barrista. Then to l'Oiseau Rouge for a some pot roast and back to SBC to talk to the barrista.

Home, City of Lost Children, or La Cité des Enfants Perdu, cause it's in French. This is the same direcor who gave us Delicatessen, Amelie (or Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain), and Alien: Resurrection. Then some Dead Can Dance DVD.