knickerbockers anonymous

haiku to a louse (living on my head)

2008-05-27T00:34:00.000-07:00

wee, tim'rous crawlie,
why do you nibble on me
so greedy greedy

Don't worry. I'm not actually infested.

laugh, kookaburra, laugh

2008-05-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

My handsome cousins and I playing Extreme Croquet last summer at the Lake.

a glutton for words and love

2008-04-27T04:13:00.000-07:00

A harrowing flight itinerary by anyone's standards:

Sydney to Brisbane: 1.5 hours
-- 4 hours in Brisbane --
Brisbane to Singapore: 7.5 hours
-- 3 hours in Singapore --
Singapore to Delhi: 5.5 hours
-- 25 hours in Delhi --
Delhi to Beijing: 6.5 hours
-- 4.5 hours in Beijing --
Beinjing to Vancouver: 11 hours
Vancouver to Victoria: 3.5 hours

Total travel time: 72 hours exactly.

...priceless.

Wouldn't it all be so easy if I just had a pair or ruby slippers?

----

My mother cleaned my room, which alternately pleases and annoys me. What could she have found in there? Things may have been growing... (Like my stash! HA!)

Oh, and it's 4:30 in the morning and I don't feel tired. HELLO REVERSE JETLAG!

where the dingoes paint pictures

2008-04-08T03:38:00.000-07:00

How did I get here?

It's a question I've asked myself almost every morning for the last two weeks.

How did I get here? At what point did holy cows give way to wild wallabies? At what point did saris stop being the norm and instead get replaced with surfboards? It's like I took some surprise turn down a back alley in Delhi and found myself in Fern Gully, the way I so often found myself in inexplicable places. And in the same way you quickly get used to this phenomenon while in India, the jump to Australia feels strangely natural.

But then there are those fuzzy, disoriented mornings when the bed feels a little too soft, the room a little too quiet and someone warm might be lying beside me. And then all of a sudden I'm in Oz again. (Same as it ever was - same as it ever was...)

So how did I get here?

I think the answer has something to do with all those important things: freedom, romance, curiosity, adventure, money (yes, money is important, too). Toss some desperate spontaneity into the mix -- almost violent, possibly invasive.

("People have combusted from less spontaneity, and only one was fortuitously dating a fireman," he said.)

So I bought a ticket, kept moving, leapt down the rabbit's hole without a thought for what it might mean. Now I'm staying in a private cottage, doing very little except enjoying myself. My sole activities have been reading, painting, going to lunch parties and lying on the beach. I've also been to an art opening, sat under some waterfalls, and occasionally Jamie and I will take pictures and stay up late listening to old records. I have been known to get involved in sparring matches with the bouncing, mini-half-sister.

I'm just outside of Byron Bay, which is one of those holiday spots that draws in tourists with its too-blue water and bikini dress code. It's the kind of place that, had I simply read about it in a travel book, I would probably have thought, meh, I don't really need the beach culture or the crowds. But God, I'm glad to be here. I realize that I had never really seen water before now. At least, not the way it was meant to be seen. Tropical fish nibble at my ankles while I stand waist deep in fluid blue-green glass.

And I like Aussies. They're like Canadians with funny accents. I've been studying them. I can now say a passable "naawrh" [read: "no"] and I have a pretty good idea of what a "bogen" is. I could live here very easily, I think. But I won't. Not yet anyway. School calls to me (in an authoritative, school-marm voice). I would like to finish my undergrad sometime before I turn thirty.

Speaking of time passing -- I'm almost twenty. Your little Undead Alice is all grown up! Kind of. I find the departure from teenager-hood rather sad, actually. I know I say this every year, but some part of me feels like this is my last year to be a willful prat -- that after nineteen, I just won't be able to get away with the same shenanigans. You can't call a twenty year old precocious anymore, which means that I'll be moving into the realms of pretension if I don't shape up a bit, mature, act my age. It's not cute anymore. I detect a jejune air that has not irked me before.

I have never dated someone the same age as me. Sometimes I wish that I were French and that I smoked and that I had been seduced at fourteen by a much older man -- rich, suave, experienced. And then, when I had learned all I could from the affair, I'd drop him for greener pastures. He, of course, would be heartbroken, but secretly proud of the pretty little monster he created.

Is this a horrible tangent? I think so. But can I just add that as a French girl, I would have large, brown eyes, usually -- no, always -- covered with sunglasses.

Why do I feel the need to tell you these things? I'm just free-flowing. Writing as it comes. Writing the way I did during my time in India, which, as it turns out, is partly why I so rarely wrote in the travel blog. It was too structured, required too much censoring. Censorship goes against everything India has come to mean for me.

But I'm easing myself back into regular life now. Australia is like the middle ground. This blog post is no man's land. I stand, feet firmly apart, one on either side of the border.

Be happy for me; I'm floating.

::And you may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife!::

hello, my friend

2007-11-27T22:16:00.000-08:00

Ben and I are officially posting over at Razzamataj. Keep in touch.

zam-zammah

2007-11-17T18:41:00.000-08:00

Which of these three books should I bring traveling with me?

Kim
(It takes place in India. I love Kipling. It's adventurous. I haven't read it.)

Anil's Ghost
(I'm rereading The English Patient, so I'm kind of in an Ondaatje zone. It takes place in Sri Lanka, which is kind of like India. I haven't read it.)

Love in the Time of Cholera
(It's romantic. I know very little about it, except that it's kind of a classic. Oh, and I haven't read it.)

Please vote.

desert highway

2007-11-12T21:56:00.000-08:00

13 days and counting until the big trip. I just spent 15 frustrating minutes on the phone, talking to a clinic in Delhi, trying to decipher whether or not they sell Malarone (a malaria pill) in India -- which they do. So that's out of the way. It'll be cheaper there.
I have also bought SUPER DEET, cushy-wushy hiking shoes, travel insurance, visa photos and a money belt. My cousin gave me her back pack, I'm finished with me vaccinations, and I'm deciding not to bring a mosquito net.
I also went and looked at cameras today. I'm thinking of buying a Canon Power Shot SD1000, only partly because it's on sale.
Of course, there is always a bump in the road, and this time it comes in the form of lost visas. Well, we're hoping they're not lost. Whatever the case, we're still waiting on them to come in the mail. I'm getting pretty antsy at this point, since it's cutting it so close. We already had one visa disaster (they sent back Jo's, saying that she hadn't sent enough money, and she had to drop everything and rush to Vancouver the next day to talk to the consulate). I suppose I just have to have faith in the system.

I've been doing my best to put aside some time for each of my friends before I go. It's difficult sometimes because of how busy everything is right now, but it's important to me that I get proper goodbyes and leave on a good note. Not that I'll be out of contact. Email is an amazing thing, and I may even send a few postcards. In fact, I want all of you to email me your addresses, because if I don't have your address, you won't be getting any letters.

I had Christmas dinner tonight with Ben and Jo and all of our families. We thought it would be a nice idea, since we're not going to be here for the real thing. Ben's mom went all out with the decorating -- we even had real Christmas crackers! And at the end of the night we had a small secret-santa exchange and sang a few carols. I'm feeling pretty festive, even if there is no snow.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!

names

2007-11-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes they sit alone in the grass and marvel at this thing they have found; small, unnamed and entirely theirs. Finn still believes it to have been an accident, but Max, being older, knows that there’s no such thing.

It’s there between them, quiet and undemanding. Mostly.

They discover a patch of wild berries and claim it as their own, reveling in the sweetness, the stained fingers, and the juice that gets everywhere. This thing without words grows from the ground and sticks in the throat, heavy with all it’s meaning, still unnamed.

But sometimes, with a subtle touch or a glance between two boys – so simple, just that- they know it’s there, if only for a second. (It says, see me, please feel me, you know me.)

Finn is lying on his back now. The sun clings to his skin and Max can’t help but watch him glow.

And he thinks of kissing him, sunwarmed and lazy, the taste of strawberries still in his mouth, and his lips dyed red and stinging. The fruit has made tiny cuts on the roof of his mouth and he imagines that Finn would be able to feel them with his tongue and heal them one at a time; or perhaps only widen the tears.

And, ‘Oh, Christ,’ he thinks, as the other boy looks up at him. ‘Don’t let him know I’m thinking this. Let this, just this, be a secret.’

But at least the secret has found a name.

::A piece of flash fiction in honour of Nanowrimo, which I will not have the time to do this year. My great novel will have to wait. It's soppy, I know. So sue me, I felt like writing romance. I'm still a teenager. It's allowed.::

the union rep of love

2007-10-26T18:48:00.000-07:00

My day just got even worse:
New Brideshead teasers.

[Edit: In doing some quick research, I found THIS article. I'm vaguely reassured. Vaguely. Also, I do *like* Mathew Goode.]

I'm leaving in less than a month now. I'm so ready. Victoria can suck my balls.

cookie corruption

2007-10-23T11:48:00.000-07:00

I was so cold and tired on my way to work yesterday, that when I walked past a homeless man in a sleeping bag, for a split second I was jealous.

In other news, Dumbledore is gay. And sure, you've all heard this by now, but what are *your* thoughts on the subject?
On the one hand, I feel it's quite important, just because it's showing the world that it's okay to put stuff like this into children's literature. BUT, was she just too whimpy to actually write it into the book? I'm kind of on the fence with this one.

dainty dealings

2007-10-20T20:14:00.000-07:00

So I'm playing Kings Quest IV, and typing in the usual commands like, "push rock" or "look closet" or "climb cliff", when my seven year old cousin -- who is watching -- starts piping in with his own ideas.

So, straight from the mouth of Ryland Nezil:
"Look in freaky places."
"Take out teeth and throw them at enemy."
"Put bum in water."
"Body slam unicorn, then ride it."
"Grab onto seagull and fly."

And my personal favourite:
"Don't sit on spike."

bamboo banga

2007-10-17T17:41:00.000-07:00

I gave my two weeks notice today. Halloween will be the best day of my life.
Although, I suppose I'll miss certain moments such as this one:

First Aid: (While bandaging up the cut on my leg)
So... if it goes red or puffy or just all around bad, well, you should just phone us, okay?

Francine:
Nah, if that happens, we'll just cut it off. Save us all the trouble.

Amelia:
But I'm a hemophiliac!

Brenda:
Oh, don't worry about that. I can cauterize it real quick.

Amelia:
Uhh... I think I'd rather if you just brought in Rasputin.

And then Karen came in and saw that my stockings were in tatters (which happened the same way I cut my leg).

Karen:
Those are some attractive knee highs you got there, Miss Amelia.

Amelia:
Right. I think I have some serious darning to do.

In other news -- though I really shouldn't be -- I am still *very* obsessed with this video.

::Congrats to Stephen Fry on making the list.::

the way shadows colonize snow

2007-10-14T16:09:00.000-07:00

On the outside, I still look like Amelia.
BUT.
But once I open my mouth and try to speak, you realize that I am actually Demi Moore with terminal lung cancer.
I have said my goodbyes to Ashton, and I'm on my way to the Bahamas where I will die rich and happy and beautifully suntanned.

Tell Bruce I never liked Die Hard.

you make the sound that you found for me

2007-10-09T20:13:00.000-07:00

New travel blog. And no, I'm not travelling just yet, but I felt like getting a head start.

Le link.

never trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders

2007-09-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

Now you at home can watch it too!

MYSTERIOUS CITIES OF GOLD

all lies and jest

2007-08-22T18:10:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream that I was stocking a shelf with all kinds of little trinkets and toys and that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make them all fit and it never seemed to turn out right. I guess I feel that way about most aspects of my life right now.

I know this isn't much of a come-back post, but I have a feeling I'm going to be writing a lot for a while.

you give me terrifying dreams

2007-07-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

I've reverted back to using Harry Potter as a gambling device. I mean, who can forgot the great wads of cash I won on such bets as: Harry/Hermione vs. Ron/Hermione, or Will Snape Be DADA Teacher?

So the new bets include, Is Snape Evil (a resounding NO!), Will Harry Return For His Seventh Year At Hogwarts (also a NO!), and Will Harry Die (No, duh!).

Come on, mama needs a new pair of shoes.

...also, wtf, 38 degrees?

I shot the albatross, but I did not shoot the deputy

2007-07-05T17:30:00.001-07:00

So, for the This Would Be Terribly Funny, If It Weren't My Own Body files:

The cortizone cream for my psoriasis blocks the sun. I didn't know this. I put it on last night, and today, after spending excessive hours in the sun, I am beet red everywhere except for around my spots of psoriasis. Yep. Those are white. Well, white with a red, peely centre. Ugh. I feel like I should be writing into Seventeen magazine with this embarrassing tidbit.

poorboys and pilgrims

2007-06-20T18:54:00.000-07:00

A true story:

(The Nezil family is posed around an empty cookie tin. All appear shocked and upset.)

Phoebe:
What the hell! What happened?

Dayle:
It was full this morning.

Amelia (beginning to cry:)
All I wanted -- sniff - was a -- sniff -- c-c-cookie...

Phoebe:
Dad! You ate all the cookies?! How could you?

Andy:
I didn't eat the cookies! I wouldn't do that.

Dayle:
But I was at work and the girls were at school, so who else could have...

Andy:
(Defensively:) Stop accusing me. I didn't eat them...

(DREAMY FLASH BACK: Andy is working in his shop.)

Andy:
I feel a little... odd. Strange. Like I'm not quite myself...

(A transformation takes place.)

Andy:
URghh..... MUST. HAVE. COOKIEEEE...

(He stumbles towards the kitchen, knocking over everything in his path. Lights fade as he reaches the cookie tin.
He wakes up hours later on the kitchen floor, covered in crumbs.)

Andy:
Ughh. What happened? (He notices the crumbs on his shirt:) OH GOD, what have I done?!!!

(Days later, at the walk in clinic:)

Doctor:
I'm sorry, sir... I'm afraid you have... COOKIE AMNESIA!!!

(Cue the screechy strings music and closeup on Andy's terrified eyes.)

bedtime imagery

2007-06-17T22:05:00.000-07:00

kite flying at night:
sperm impregnating the sky,
making star-babies

weight-watcher's nightmare:
closet-monster eating last
sugar-free cupcake

was my shadow ever mine

2007-06-15T19:22:00.000-07:00

I refuse to put my books back in my room until my dad makes the bookcase he promised me. Right now they sit, hidden, in my grandmother's room, pushed into every nook and cranny possible. I own a lot of books. So many, in fact, that I have had to stack them inside both the refrigerator and the stove.

all covered with cheese

2007-06-06T17:28:00.000-07:00

Overheard in the Empress:

woman:
You know, I don't think I like this hotel.

man:
Well, at least it's better than the Chateau Lauriet.

woman:
Oh yes. The Lauriet is just so, so... oppressing!

(they stop before entering their room:)

woman:
Warning, darling. Our room smells a little funny.

(they step into the room:)

man:
Actually, dear, I think that's just the smell of old things.

The other night I dreamt that Tran and I were married and approaching our golden anniversary. I decided that I was going to steal her something precious for a gift. So, with the help of the Drengson sisters, I broke into the Metropoliton Museum. Our master plan involved jumping on top of doorways where people couldn't see us.
Then, at last minute, my father came back from the dead to tell me that I needed to go home and wash my stockings. The terrifying vision caused me to abandon the heist and do my laundry.

a faint impression of her backbone

2007-05-26T19:03:00.000-07:00

I had a dream that the local drug store was having a 50% off sale on all Penicillin. ONE WEEK ONLY! I spent the entire dream rushing around, trying to get sick before the offer ended.

the alphabet runs right from a to z

2007-05-25T22:44:00.000-07:00

I made two fantastic mix CDs.

Part One:

Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels) - Arcade Fire
Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode
Baby Love Child - Pizzicato Five
Boy From School - Hot Chip
Cellphone's Dead - Beck
Le Pain Perdu - Cibo Matto
Without Mythologies - The Weakerthans
Lover's Spit - Broken Social Scene
Goodbye Horses - Q Lazzarus
With Or Without You - U2
Colours - Donovan
Smalltown Boy - Bronski Beat
Close To Me - The Cure
Don't Be Cruel - Elvis Presley
Daft Punk Is Playing At My House - LCD Soundsystem
Heart In A Cage - The Strokes
Bombs Over Baghdad - Outkast
Amsterdam - Peter Bjorn And John

Part Two:

What The Snowman Learned About Love - Stars
Like A Prayer - Madonna
Different Story (World Of Lust And Crime) - Peter Schilling
Rainbow Styling - Royksopp
Lovestoned I Think She Knows Interlude - Justin Timberlake
For My Dear - Gackt
2HB - Thom York
New Planet - Drew
Sleep On The Left Side - Cornershop
Heartbeats - The Knife
A View To A Kill - Duran Duran
It's A Fine Day - ATB
Wuthering Heights - Kate Bush
Satellite Of Love - Lou Reed
Trouble - Cat Stevens
Angeles - Elliott Smith
California Dreaming - The Mamas And The Papas
Carnival - The Pillows
Nothing Like You And I - The Perishers

Now these may seem eclectic, and may seem to have nothing in common... but believe me, the order is very important. I'll make you a CD if you ask nicely.

like distant bells and a selfish forever

2007-05-24T16:21:00.000-07:00

I am badly burnt. I have dreams about Jesus Christ Superstar. I ate a giant bag of cheesies by myself.

And don't you wish you could listen to me sing Satellite of Love? (And sing the "bum-bum bum"s for me.)

I only floss with real unicorn hair

2007-05-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

Umm... oops?
I didn't mean to disappear, honest! I was gunna post, and then my dog ate it or something.
But let's check this out, okay? If you look one post below, and then inspect the date on it, you'll be shocked to see that, yes, it has been more than two months since my last post. Which is rather a long time in the fly-by world of the internet, where you can gain 200 "friends" in a couple of days. Alarming, I know.

So I should probably do a bit of a recap here so that you -- The Peanut Gallery -- are not entirely lost.

First of all, a couple friends moved away (seeing as they're adults now), but my bests (including the boyfriend) are still living within my little sphere of comfort and protection, Victoria. That said, it's official: I'm going traveling next year. I'm not even going back to school in September. I'm really, truly flying the coop and I intend to plop myself down in the most overwhelmingly crowded, sweltering and colourful location possible. Jo and I (add or subtract Ben) are heading to India, Nepal, Tibet and China in the fall. There's also a slight chance of a short trip to Japan before or after this adventure.

The problem with travel is that it's expensive. I'm coping with this little issue by working my ass off in the hospitality business. Sounds almost glamorous, doesn't it? Actually, the truth of the matter is that I'm a mother-fucking chamber-maid, bitches! Can't youjust see me? The cute black and white uniform, the French accent, doily on my head, flirting with rich geezers...
Think again. It's non-stop manual labour in a hotel that's so old that the heritage building laws restrict it from installing air-conditioning (which is not a very good selling point for a summer job that keeps you running around constantly). On top of that, I'm required to wear a high waisted, navy skort with an ancient blouse that I think must once have been white. The upside is that the job comes along with free, endless desserts (guarenteeing that you never actually lose weight, despite the workout).

So what else happened? Well, I went to Calgary for my aunt's grad art show, which was amazing. I also took a short trip over to Vancouver to say farewell to Cyrus before he went to Saskatoon. I feel like a sailor's wife, ever waiting with my handkerchief for his ship to return...

Oh! and I also turned 19! I have yet to throw a party, but in the meantime I've hit up various bars/clubs and reveled in my ability to do such things as buy cigarettes, get tried in court as an adult and do the occasional strip tease for cold cash. I'm thinking that when I do have my birthday-bash, it'll either be Come-As-Your-Own-Reputation themed or Murder-Mystery themed. Place your votes now.

I also found a four-leaf clover.

But I'll tell you what didn't happen. I didn't perform in a play this year, I didn't see my dad, I didn't lose faith in Paris Hilton (despite the rest of the world's current hate on her), I didn't keep studying my Japanese, I didn't go-go dance in the ensemble of Jesus Christ Superstar, and I hardly read a thing.

Farewell, adieu, auf wiederehen, goodnight.

[EDIT:] Plus, I totally finished my first year of University! Jesus, how did I forget that?!

::Amelia is truly, truly, truly outrageous!::

but my breath won't hold long enough

2007-03-09T16:33:00.000-08:00

Cyrus accidentally got me hooked on Beverly Hills 90210. I can never forgive him.

::I'm loving the new Arcade Fire album. But what else is new?::

flying is crazy too

2007-03-06T16:50:00.000-08:00

I am in such a good mood. I'm sitting here, singing at the top of my lungs, just having a good time. (My emotions are wack.)

Here, have some haikus from the Random Haiku Generator:

craving to go to
the doctor again, I sat
and watched your beauty

Dream:
I was in the age
of Spanish exploration
and there were angels

Stephen Fry and I
in bed with nothing to talk
about except sex

Vernon Tank Gilbert
Fluffy Dahud Sutherland
Nezil is a bitch.

as though his cells are panicking

2007-03-04T21:08:00.000-08:00

This is my week for finding a second job. This is my week for saying the unspeakable. This is my week for screaming at doctors. This is my week for catching up in Japanese. This is my week for penny-pinching. This is my week for speed reading. This is my week for wearing dresses, giving back sweaters, and ignoring the cold.

Oh, and on Saturday I spent all my money on poncey git-erature at the Times Colonist Book Sale. It was an absolute zoo. I waited in line for an hour and a half (which wasn't so bad, since I made friends with the people around me: a fat man, an old woman, a chef and a child), and then ran for the antiques. My main find of the day was an Arthur Ransome novel with original illustrations. I also picked up a very dusty copy of LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY. Plus a box full of other equally ponced up novels.

jesus, mary, muhammed, and vishnu

2007-02-28T16:23:00.000-08:00

I had a dream last night that a young Pierre Trudeau came to my house to shelter from the rain. I made coffee, and while we talked he gradually aged until he was an old man and then he started to change into an old woman. When it dawned on me how strange this all was, I woke up.

I highly reccomend watching the Sunday morning theatrical representations of the Hindu Vedas on channel ten. I can't get enough of them. They're both wonderfully cheesy and culturally informing.

after lying with pan

2007-02-18T21:51:00.000-08:00

Dude. I joined Facebook last night, and today I have 54 "friends" and a profile and some other crazy internet-trendy shit. I'm more than a little intimidated by how big it all is.

I promise I won't obsess over it the way everyone else is.

elegance lit up in neon

2007-02-15T20:08:00.000-08:00

Who's life is this? Not mine. Amelia doesn't do these things, say these things, mean these things.

I miss Joanna. I keep having dreams about driving in her van, smoking and laughing.

You should have seen the fort we made. I'm convinced we could survive in the wilderness for up to 5 days. It's possible, with tent making skills such as ours.

Sinister Street has sequels. All the characters die.

My stomach hates me. I want it to stop hurting now.

My boss is thinking of giving me the toughest, most intense, physical job at the bookstore this summer. Frighteningly good pay, but I'll have to start lifting weights now.

I'm too happy to do much of anything these days, but I'll try to start posting again soon.

lights, he said

2007-02-07T16:28:00.000-08:00

You should have seen the stretch pants I wore to the Bad Taste party. Oh, they were glorious. Betty-Boop riding motorcycles across the technicolour spandex of my legs. Deliciously tasteless!

Merk and I went and watched our mothers sing at the Laude Concert a couple weekends ago. They sang beautifully, but I was in super-hater mode; I just wanted to strangle people, or feed them to the medieval dragons prancing inside their own dense little minds. Like, there was this one girl with a plastic grin taped to her face all night long and she would walk by where Merk and I were sitting at least twice a song and smile at us so widely that I thought she would tear something, half laugh as if sharing some secret in-joke (haha, I just can't stand still!), bop her head again and then walk down the aisles making too much noise. Then there was this pussy security man who, you could tell, was trying to shut up this group of kids playing tag up in the balcony, but the most he could manage was to politely inch his way over, taking the occasional break along the way to stop, turn around and act as if it wasn't actually bothering him. Finally, after about 20 minutes, he made it over to the kids, but all he could do was wave weakly at them, at which point he got stared down by a seven year old in coveralls and had to start his slow trek back to his seat again. Sitting in front of us was this man and his two wives; Wife1 spent the night glaring, in turns, at me and Wife2, who kept trying to play footsy with Husband, who looked totally uninterested and clearly wanted nothing more than to go home to his large garden and the homemade cider he had brewing on the stove. The lute-ist playing in the concert had half her hair pulled up into a flouncy roll, while the rest of it hung down in a frizzy mess, shouting one part medieval babe, two parts modern WOMAN. I hated her. Merk's kindergarten teacher held a a seance with my grade one teacher in the back, and one of the singers looked about nine years old. Elizabeth made medieval toilet jokes and three or four people got up in the middle of the show to go listen to their country and rap music. ("I guess I just like... normal music," says grandma.)

Only Carolyn could save my spirits. She was magnificent! That huge red mane of hair stacked a mile high on her head and her velvet dress' sleeves dragging on the ground as she tapped her drum against her swaying hips. Behold her majesty.

serious moonlight

2007-01-31T16:48:00.000-08:00

Lately all of my downloading tools have been failing me. Limewire, Soulseek, Bittorrent... nothing works. So I send this plea out to the people:

Help my find these songs:

-Peter Schilling - The Different Story
-New Order - 586
-Kate Bush - Cloudbusting
-Kate Bush - Suspended in Gaffa
-Kate Bush - Army dreamers
-Mary J Blige - Family Affair
-Joni Mitchell - Sire of Sorrow
-Regina Spektor - Dusseldorf

If you happen to have any of these song on your computer, please send. If you find a site that offers them for free, please direct me there. *Or* if you download any of them for me, I will love you forever unconditionally.

Plaaayse haaalllp.

soviet kitsch

2007-01-20T15:51:00.000-08:00

My new jeans are so tight that they leave blue stains on my skin where my joints are. This is quite possibly the funniest thing ever. I get to take them off and joke about these *insane* blue stretch marks.... that just happen to wash off with a bit of soap.

Lesbians of the world, answer me this: what kind of underwear do butch women wear? Like, do they still put on pretty, frilly stuff for the big date? And if so does this make the gender that much more complicated? What if you're the more "masculine" one in the relationship but you just happen to LOVE your black lace panties? I'm really curious about this.
Also, am I allowed to be asking this? Is wondering about all this somehow politically incorrect? Am I using the wrong words here? Is it insulting to simplify things by talking about this in terms of "masculine" and "feminine"?
Considering how many gay friends I have, I'm really not up on the gender ettiquette.

Do you ever play the game "Top or Bottom"? (Or are Jo and I just odd...)
You pick two random people on the street or on a bus, or wherever. They don't have to be together, they don't have to be a man and a woman -- just any two people. Then you have to decide who would be on top and who would be on the bottom while they were, you know, getting it on. It's also important that you explain your decision. You can come up with some pretty interesting imaginary dynamics.
Go play! Discuss!

::Listening to Summer Smoke by Girl Talk.::

good thing it's done

2007-01-18T18:09:00.000-08:00

Today was one of the worst days in the history of bad days. Please God, let tomorrow come sooner.

However, the bad day led to one good thing, and that is NEW CLOTHING! After trying to hold off for almost a year, I gave in to the skinny jeans. Yes, they make my hips look rather baby-bearing-good [read: not so good], but I like them anyway. I also bought some billowy little summer shirts that are oh-so-cute and help to even out my lower wideness. Hah! Amelia-1, Hips-ZERO! Take that.

Also, I've decided that from now on, when people ask me why I'm vegetarian, I'll just say that it's compensating for the fact that I wear a hell of a lot of fur. Huzzah.

Annnnd:
If you'd like to sync your music listening taste along with mine, download Cloudbusting by Kate Bush, Like a Pen by The Knife, and Modern Love by Bowie.

I'm going to go play some hardcore Laura Bow now. I'm pretty sure that Ethel Prune is off drunkenly stumbling around the plantation, and it's up to ME to put an end to this insanity!

squint skyward and listen

2007-01-15T22:53:00.000-08:00

Merk and I wrote haikus:

"Mother's Handwriting"

1)
womb-like loops, she writes
all over father's new shirt
covered with lipstick

2)
thin, black ink saying:
"at grocery store, back soon."
that bitch always lied

"Coworker"

1)
dandruff on my desk
again. must be that new girl,
Susan. seek revenge

2)
eyes closed and crying
fingers holding bridge of nose
morning after pill

"Superman's Chin"

1)
heaving and clefted
no five o'clock shadow here
two strong, beige mountains

2)
clefted and heaving,
a son-of-a-bitch of a
chin. too much to shave

"The Shooting of a Popstar"

1)
nine divine bullets;
like Christ, you rose from the dead;
once more with feeling

2)
screaming and thirteen
fans of underserving filth
bitch had it coming

"Teacher/Student Affair"

1)
chalky erasers
misbehave for detention
the smell drives me wild

2)
bad combination:
salt and pepper moustached man;
prepubescent girls

::Feel free to submit your own, or give new prompts.::

didn't have the money for a guitar

2007-01-07T21:22:00.000-08:00

Merk:
Is there, like, some kind of law saying that you can't beat up people two years younger than you?

Milly:
You mean, at what point does it become child abuse?

Merk:
I guess.

Milly:
Who do you want to beat up?

Merk:
Oh, you know.

let me in-a-your window

2007-01-06T23:19:00.000-08:00

I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

Oh, and those were links. Like duh.

::babooshka, babooshka, babooshka, yeah yeah!::

lights from the neons

2006-12-31T14:51:00.000-08:00

New Years Resolutions:

-Stop questioning the things that make me happy.
-Listen to more Lionel Richie.
-Write, bitch, write.
-Let other people see said writing.
-Save money. I need to travel next year.
-Phone acting friends to arrange play dates.
-Learn to play cricket.
-Send fan/love letters to Bowie, Stephen Fry, Hannah Jones, and Snoop Dogg.
-Start synth band called "Totally Frank".
-Film a brilliant movie. Win Oscars. Make it onto ever Best Dressed At Oscars list.
-See Regina Spektor in concert.
-See a ballet.
-Go dancing once a week.
-Learn to trust doctors.
-Try to cut down on cleaning my ears. Apparently Q-Tips are damaging.
-Break fewer hearts. Win more money. Cut hair more often.

But if I can only accomplish one thing all year, I'd like to get a real start on my novel. I need to stop writing notes and random scenes that may or may not make it into the final cut. I need to sit my ass down and write it out, from the beginning. I need to show bits and pieces to my friends so that they can bug me to keep going. I need to put things down on paper before it all funnels out of my brain. I need to give these characters life while I still remember what it feels like to be 18. I think I can, I think I can...

chimpanzee that monkey news

2006-12-27T13:01:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again! My chocolate-induced sluggishness distracts me from blogging and being generally useful, and instead makes me want to lie in bed for hours on end. I do a lot of lying in bed these days, dreaming about sugar plums and romance, and possibly a sugar-plum/romance crossover (think about it!). I also read a lot. And listen to the Ricky Gervais Show.
Ricky Gervais: The guy who wrote the original Office - he's a commedian - he did a number of live podcasts that are frighteningly funny - he's been in movies, etc.
Just go download it now. NOW. It's the most worthwhile thing you'll do all holiday. Most of the show is made up of Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant making fun of how stupid their producer is. Carl, the producer, is the best thing about the show. He spouts off bullshit about cavemen and monkeys and Einstein thinking that he's being profound.
My dad and I have been listening to this stuff non-stop and killing ourselves. We laugh until we cry.

Christmas was sort of quiet this year. No big fights, no aunts screaming at each other, no drunken fits of crying... I mean, the closest thing to fighting were the petty arguments surrounding a painfully long game of Cranium. Keri and I kicked butt (as Team Totally Frank), and the other players were so blinded by our brilliance that all they could do was accuse us of cheating. Over and over again. Man alive.

This year's haul was pretty good. Some highlights:
-A fur coat
-FutureSex/LoveSounds and Ys
-Lip Venom
-A Modern Language Association membership
-Death in Venice
-Cool Water perfume
-Gift cards for La Senza and the movie theatres
-Fancy tea
-Lots of socks and pajamas
-A pretty new journal
-Chocolate up the wazoo
-New headphones (I blow mine so quickly!)
-Fashion Inc.
-Finger-Bling
-Body Butter (of the coconut variety)
-Evelyn Waugh paraphernalia
-A litererary dictionary
-Random knick-knacks
And my dad promised to make me a standing bookshelf with glass doors. I'm pretty psyched.

If you are in need of new music, I suggest:
-New Justin Timberlake
-Royksopp
-Peter Bjorn and John

I talked to Jo on the phone for an hour and a half this morning. I miss her like the sun.

::A shout out to my flesh in Calgary.::

it's just one fucking thing after another

2006-12-22T12:53:00.000-08:00

Come see The History Boys with me tomorrow night. It's like hitting the schoolboy jackpot.

hardboileds, toffee, fudge, and allsorts

2006-12-21T20:45:00.000-08:00

The roadtrip was wonderful, but since the subject has been exhausted elsewhere, I won't go into it here.

So today, while finishing up some Christmas shopping, I ran into Bayley and Linnea at the mall. On a whim, we got our photos taken with Santa. Santa was a perv and grabbed my ass, and he looks high in the picture. Despite this, the photo is kind of amazing, and who knows, maybe I'll give you a copy.

Also, at the moment I have an A+ average. Sometimes, when you are me, it's very hard not to be arrogant.

knock-kneed and all-bright

2006-12-17T17:20:00.000-08:00

I hate Christmas shopping the most. It breeds strange kinds of anxiousness in my belly -- a belly that is already full of Christmas puddings and gingerbread and really doesn' t need anything else taking up room. Thank god for stylish male friends that are ready to help on short notice and supply the lung-tar.

I worry that my grammy has already read the book that I bought her. Hell.

And I had the most unlucky badluck with 3, count 'em 3, ATM machines. I need to go talk to my bank-mistress and make sure it didn't actually steal that cash from me. Fucking machines.

I'm going to have to go read "A Child's Christmas in Wales" now to put myself back in the spirit.

::milk from a thistle at twilight::

little catholic girl is falling in love

2006-12-15T18:44:00.000-08:00

I'm free!
The Anthro exam was sort of a joke. You got two extra marks for just filling out the bubble sheet correctly. Christ, the world is full of dolts.

Road trip next week. Here's hoping the roads aren't too bad. And hell, if they are we'll just find a hotel with a hot tub and say SCREW YOU to our plans. The car only has a tape player, so I went on an epic journey into the darkest caverns of my home to find old cassettes, and my gawd I found some good ones. For example, my mother has a secret treasure trove of OMD mix tapes. Freaking, OMD. This is my mother we're talking about -- my mother who listens to folk and 90s rap -- and she owns OMD tapes. So this makes my life a little bit better, and our trip a whole lot synthier.

This was supposed to be a 500 dollar week, but what with various job cacellations, it's going to wind up being a half of that. This is crazy disappointing. I can't even tell you.

We put up our Christmas tree last night, and man does it ever smell good. Holding with traditions, I camped out in the living room for the night. Bad idea. We had the worst wind storm in years and years. Branches scraped against the windows, the blinds blew up and down, and Oh the noise noise noise noise! If there's one thing I hate...

I really want to read Doctor Zhivago. I started flipping through it during break at work today and just about died it was so beautiful. And you have to take into account that this was just the first couple of pages. Is it too late to revise my Christmas list?

Blog 'to do' list:
-Fix links,
-Set up Last FM,
-Change picture,
-Post more, dammit.

she's twenty years of snow falling

2006-12-08T20:36:00.000-08:00

I have a terrible head cold. Neocitron is my only relief. Why, God, are we only allowed to drink it four times a day?

I got an A+ in Japanese. My English teacher told me that my essay was fantastic and that I should go into Honours English. I have one exam left to write.

And I heard this on the bus:

-I have to tell you, if I could marry a potato, I would. Like, I just love potatoes.
-I know! I love potatoes.
-Like fries, roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes...
-OH MY GOD, don't even get me started on mashed potatoes!
-And scalloped potatoes.
-Gotta love 'em.
-And, like, latkes. Potato latkes. You don't even understand.
-I don't really support potatoes though.
-What?!
-Yeah, because they're grown with animals and I'm like a vegetarian.
-Really? But I *love* potatoes.

Real comversation, people. I took notes while it was happening. They were so passionate about it too.

Go download:
-Cosmia by Joanna Newsom
-Lose Control by K-Fed
-Everything by Joanna Spektor.

the crumbs of your glamour

2006-12-05T23:00:00.000-08:00

My dry skin is turning into a rash on my face, my nose peels every morning, my hair is frizzy, and my teeth are crazy-sensitive to the cold.

Winter is kicking me in the ass.

Mind you, I'm living the good, lazy life here in no-school-town. And yes, I do have exams. But those are ages away, and anyway, exams are silly, meaningless things and never any fun. Or at least, this is how I'm justifying my laziness. I'll probably bomb my English on Thurs. and then flip out and hole myself in my room with my Anthropology textbook all next week.
Or maybe I'll do just rippingly and skip all the way home and say poo-poo to my other classes.
We'll see.

So, it turns out I'm not $500 dollars in debt. Thank God. Not that this means that I have money to spare, because I don't. But it's still a welcome relief. Maybe, with luck or hard work, I'll even be able to afford a Christmas present or two.
We'll see.

Renee and I watched Singing In The Rain tonight. It just rubbed in the fact that I can't dance. Oh, oh oh oh, how I wish I could sing and dance like a little Judy Garland. My life would be happier. Full of music-swelling love scenes, and tap dance solos. What's more, my friends would all be able to break into instant harmonies, with no practise whatsoever.
Not only would I need to learn to sing and dance, but I'd also need better legs, a shinier hairdo, and snappy little shoes that glint in the stage lights. Not so hard to achieve, right? New Years resolution?
We'll see.

One last thing:
Do you cry at the end of books? I guess a better question is: do books make you cry? And then, if you answer yes, I can ask if you cry at the end.
I suppose it depends on the book, but for the most part, I cry in the middle and just feel empty at the end. Books with great endings, sad endings, just make me feel lonely when it's all over. The parts that make me cry are the bits of semi-tragedy leading up the climax. The bits and pieces that herald the end. That's the stuff of Amelia-tears.
There are exceptions. For example, the end of The Lord of the Rings always made me cry. I can't read those books anymore, but back in the day, when they seemed the epitome of all things beautiful and literary (ah, how young I was!), that ending would make me weep like a little baby. Or Watership Down, which *is* the epitome of all things beautiful and literary (or something very near) -- that's a book with an ending that makes me cry.

::Watership Down was the first book my sister ever read. The first! Not 'Where the Wild Things Are" or "See Dick Run", but Watership Down. She read the ending out loud to my dad, and she pronounced epilogue, "ep-e-li-goo-ee". She will never live it down.::

let my camerons go

2006-12-03T13:51:00.000-08:00

Milly:
Dayle, have you seen my Pod?

Dayle:
Your what?

Milly:
My pod.

Dayle:
Your WHAT?!

Milly:
...My IPod?

Dayle:
Ohhhh, I thought you said pot.

Milly:
Dayle. Have you been breaking into my stash again?

There was a Pirate-Christmas themed party last night. I'll admit the concept left something to be desired. Pirates are way too badass to get soppy about Jesus, but wh'ever.
Merk and I went as the Dagger Twins: Stella Sea-Legs and Keel-Haulin' Kansas. We were co-captains, Tran was our first mate, Cameron was the swabber (of the deck), Renee was the man in the brig, and Cameron's school friends made up the rest of our crew. And, I don't know, I suppose Cyrus was my wench or something.

I've finished my various Japanese exams. The Oral was interesting. It was an interview exam, so my teacher would talk quickly in Japanese and we'd have to pretend we knew what the hell she was babbling on about. I lied all the way through it. She'd ask me a question and I'd just say the first thing that came to my mind.

Sensei:
Do you have any siblings?

Milly:
Yes. A little sister.

Sensei:
What does she like to do?

Milly:
Well, she watches lots of TV.

Sensei:
Lots?

Milly:
Oh yeah! Lots and lots of TV.

Sensei:
What kind of shows does she watch?

Milly:
Umm... anime and soap operas. She loves soap operas. Especially those horrible daytime ones.

Sensei:
Doesn't she go to school?

Milly:
Sometimes. She doesn't leave the house very often.

Sensei:
Oh. What does she look like.

Milly:
She's really over weight!

And then, when asked about my mom, I said that she was a fantastic cook and that her best dish was Canadian bacon. Which is such bullshit.

I also got a surprisingly good mark on my Japanese composition, which I find hilarious because I mostly just talked about beavers.

Two more exams to come. Hopefully I'll get some work soon. I just found out I'm $500 in debt.

all children, except one, grow up

2006-11-26T19:34:00.000-08:00

It's snowing great buckets of snow. I love this.

The power was out for the last 4 hours. I hate this.

:remixing a song is like admitting you were wrong::

all pink-nosed and freckled

2006-11-22T20:44:00.000-08:00

Anthro Hos and English Dolts. These are the people I am surrounded by.

So there's this girl in my Anthro class who just loves to hear herself speak. She never shuts up. It's gotten to the point where the teacher will actually say, "No, not you!" to her when she puts up her hand.
Her favourite word is "ethnocentric", and she uses it at least twice a week -- guarenteed! She only manages to use it in correct context about half the time. Like during our section on primates, she kept claiming that it was ethnocentric to assume that chimps learn things in a similar way to humans. Give me a break! They're chimpanzees. Jesus. She drives me insane.

Then there's these three kids in my English class. One of them is, in fact, a kid. I'm pretty sure he skipped some grades in there. Now you'd think that this would make him super smart, but no, I'm guessing he just had over-zealous parents or something. Anyway, our professor kind of spoon feeds us at times. He asks really simple questions that everyone knows the answer to, and because of this nobody really feels the need to speak up. Except for these three guys. Who answer *everything* as if they're they only ones who understand the poem, or whatever it is we're reading. They're very smug. Anyway, one of them frequently answers the questions wrong, and when this happens, he quickly says: "No, no, I know. I was just giving the *anticipated* answer." Because OF COURSE he knows the correct answer, he was just giving the teacher what he wanted! He was just answering for the stupid class! Just giving the "anticipated" answer! Riiiight. God, just admit you're wrong, you obnoxious asshole.

::Listening to Lou Reed.::

his quick cricket legs

2006-11-18T22:04:00.000-08:00

I feel the need to post. I have nothing to say - no profound realizations, no hilarious anecdotes - just this need to say something to someone. Anyone.

I'm really restless right now.

I'm still in my pajamas, I didn't get out of bed until 2 in the afternoon (which I blame on Jo, who I talked to until 4:30 in the morning), and I am going insane. I'm sure there are people I could go see, go be social with, but that takes effort, and the worst thing about feeling restless is that it usually comes along with extreme laziness.

So this was my day: I woke up, drank tea, watched House, studied, talked to Merk, talked to Renee, read comics, studied, drank tea, watched House, ate dinner, drank tea, studied, and now I'm blogging. About nothing, apparently. And actually, when written out like that, my day seems pretty busy (ha!).

When I have this much time to myself, I start to think. And we all know this is a dangerous thing. I have a dangerous mind! I start overanalyzing things, start stressing, worrying about things that made me happy yesterday. I need new music. I'm bored.

I wish Cyrus' soccer game wasn't cancelled. I really wanted to go watch him run around and get muddy. (And what's up with that? This is ME we're talking about. In grade 6, when Merk's crushes were restricted to jock boys with mushroom cuts, I renounced soccer as the "jock-iest" of all sports. For serious.)

I suppose things change.

A good example of this is Merk's switch over to only falling for emo brats. In tight jeans, who write poetry on crumpled pieces of paper. Bizarre! Possibly hilarious?

Tomorrow I should really stay home and study, but I don't think I can spend another day like this. I have exams in less than two weeks! Jessicachrist, how did that happen? And, as always, I know nothing. Or at least, I feel like I know nothing. Hopefully I'm wrong again.

My English teacher likes me. Apparently I ask all the toughie questions that he can't answer. And he likes this(?). I'll be sad when this semester is over.

How dare Gwen Stefani sample The Sound of Music and butcher it! You know I like her. And I'm trying really hard to still like her, but she makes it so difficult when she goes and does stuff like this. Though I'll admit I like the Japanese schoolgirls krumping(sp?) in drape-jumpers.

You know how doctors always say that you should come to them with one medical issue at a time so that they can give it adequate attention? This serves my hypochondriacal (ooh, making up words, are we?) purposes perfectly. Sometimes when I get dragged to the doctor's, I decide that I'm finally going to bring up one of my 7 or so hidden sicknesses and finally get it treated, but then I look over at the wall and see the poster asking us to do things one step at a time, and I suddenly have a valid excuse to whimp out again. I don't know why I just told you this.

Okay, I'm going to stop babbling and dance in my room now.

::Okay, Peanuts.... I'm listening to Paris Hilton. It's so catchy, but makes me feel less than awesome. I suppose I could affect that I'm listening to it purely for irony-points. But we all know I'm not.::

we listened to it twice

2006-11-16T14:20:00.000-08:00

After ten years, my cat has finally been awarded middle names. He is now known as, Vernon Tank Gilbert Dahud Fluffy Sutherland-Nezil. Like a little Prince. Scratch that, and make it "a not so little, bordering on HUGE, Prince".
I bet you can't guess who chose what names!

This has been the strangest week in the history of all strange weeks. Holy oh my gawd. So much going on. So many conversations that should have been had YEARS ago. Old friends leaving, new friends coming. And... kissing? Jesus, it's been too long. (Halloween doesn't count!)

And I'm a little bit addicted to JT.

Also, if you aren't already, start reading Ben and Jo's Big Asian Adventure blog. A truly thrilling read! With elephants! And tribes!

::'Cause the DJ was asleep::

oh right, i've got the plague

2006-11-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

Check it ooout:
Blog #1
Blog #2

The Miscreants Club

2006-11-06T22:58:00.000-08:00

Some dialogue. And an old sketch.

The Rogues:

Maximilian Craft - Our fearless leader. Nobility without money. Brilliantly smart. Passionate. Idea man. Arrogant. Easily bored. Debaucher-extraordinaire. (Far Left)
Alexander Onstreet - Second in command. Max's chilhood best friend. Witty, but uptight. Stoic. Head boy. Elegant. Seemingly immaculate. Impeccably dressed. (Second from Left)
Finn Whitting - The baby. Younger than the others. Cricket master. Pretty boy. Naive. Easily impressed. Quick tempered. Graceful. Intuitive. (Far Right)
Sebastian Danway- The mascot. Laid back. Friendly. Pious. Easy to laugh. Very popular. Chick magnet. Old fashioned. Secretive. Frighteningly rich.(Centre)
Henry Stone - The bitch. Demanding. Flamboyant. Witty-to-the-max. Artistic. Motherly. Likes to fight. Loud. Idealistic. Promiscuous. Surprisingly wise. (Second from Right)

Some context. This is when The Rogues are first sitting down to seriously plan out the first meeting of The Miscreants Club. They are planning to hold the party in the clearing in the forest. To get to this clearing, it's about a twenty minute walk across school grounds and into the woods. There's also a river between them and their destination. Max, with all of his ambitions, has decided that they will use boats to cross the river, and they will get their fags, The Waifs, to row them. This is completely ridiculous, but his heart is set.

(Also, "Finge I" is like Whykemist speak for "not me". Remember elementary school?)

Max:
We’ll get the boats from Sebastian…

Seb:
And what makes you think I have boats?

Max:
You’re from Norfolk. Everyone has boats in Norfolk. Besides, you said your childhood was exactly like an Arthur Ransome novel.

(Finn: [to Hen]
You mean like Coot’s forever?

Hen: [nods]
-- and ever.)

Seb:
I was joking! Nobody actually lives like that.

Hen:
You mean you live in Lake District and you don’t even have a boat? Jesus.

Seb:
Well, if you must know, I do have a boat. But guys, it’s big. You couldn’t possibly get it from Norfolk to here.

(Alex:
Bet I could.)

Max:
All right, but you do have the most money, so you can at least hook us up with some boats. Phone up the other Coots.

Seb: [laughs]
Are you mad? Finge I!

Finn:
Finge I!

Hen:
Finge I.

Alex: [trying to stop the chaos]
Max. There’s a bridge. We don’t need boats. [hisses at the others:] Finge I.

Max:
Wait a second. [to Finn] You! You have a boathouse.

Finn:
Boathouse only in name. Believe me.

Max:
Oh bollocks. Fine. We’ll come back to the boats later.

Hen:
Thank you.

Finn: [eureka]
How about rafts!

[pause]

Max:
Yes, and what about them then?

Finn:
Well, we could use rafts instead. We could even build them.

(Hen: [bursts out laughing]
Look, it’s Huck Finn!

[Alex snorts. Finn looks insulted.])

Max: [very sarcastic]
Right, because we’re all lumberjacks and boy scouts here.

Finn:
Well, I’m just saying.

Max:
Uhm. How about music then?

-----

I'm not giving you any context for this one. It just makes me laugh.

Hen:
Oh *must* I get up for more toast?

Max:
If it's toast you want, then up you must get.

Hen:
Why doesn't this school have breakfast fags? [Doing a perfect Violetta Beauregard:] But Daddy, I want a breafast fag!

Max:
And you shall have one! Change a pudding!

(A lowly inferior passes his dessert in Max's direction.)

why do we sit so close?

2006-11-05T15:47:00.000-08:00

I no longer have any claim to Cuthbert Rond's affection. This past month I've mostly been using Duncebert, the old computer that my cousin gave us. But poor Duncebert is pretty slow, and can't handle very much.

So now. My mom's friend just gave us another computer. It's a few years old, but still newer than Cuthbert Rond. It's a very clever little box of wires. Quick and shiny. This is Prince Cuthbert, my new best friend.
What's more, Prince Cuthbert's tower is covered in SEXWAX stickers. So funny. Do I surf? No, but I love my Prince-bert.

it's too much, too much for me

2006-11-05T01:00:00.000-08:00

Jo and Ben left yesterday. It was pretty hard, and I cried a lot, but I'm okay. At least for now.

It is going to be one huge, great, honking adventure. I can't wait to hear their stories, see their pictures, find out the gossip.

I went to a party tonight, so at least I'm not being a total recluse. Of course, I also spent tons of money on second hand books today, which hints at seclusion. And the old man in one of the shops hit on me. "Wow a good looking Pole," he says. And then makes some quip about how he's 35 years too old. Yeah, more than that, buddy.

I'm a little sad. I'm a little giddy. I'm a little scared.

wake up to the bugle tune

2006-10-31T14:57:00.000-08:00

rather squishy tea, what?

2006-10-30T17:51:00.000-08:00

I have a confession. I've basically been planning and writing my Ultimate Guilty Pleasure Novel for over a year now. Not that it's in novel form, and not that it really covers all of the points listed in my UGPN description... but still. It's all here in my head, planned in great detail. And some of it is on paper, in different forms. I've written some scenes, lots of dialogue and there are multiple drawings. As well as random lists, notes and diagrams. (Merk: my lists?? Yeah? At least *I* understand them!)

So let's go through the list, shall we?

It is about school boys. Five of them in particular. They all go to a prestigious, but fictional, 500 year old boarding school called St. Aloyious' (their coat of arms features a bear!) somwhere in the English countryside. And while the school is largely my own creation, it also combines elements of Etonian, Whymkemist, and Harrovian culture -- and I've done my research.

Not all of the characters are super-humanly witty and bright, but the ones that are are downright brilliant. And yes, they all spout literary quotes like they're filled with the things. But since most of the quotes are pretty darned obscure, and hardly anyone will recognize them, they don't wind up sounding pretentious. Well, yes they do. But not for that reason.

There is lots of sexual tension. Of all kinds. Between main characters. Between minor characters. Between school boys. Between boys and girls. Between teachers. Between schoolboys and house matrons. Between schoolboys and the headmaster's daughter. Between a main character and his girlfriend's mom!? And actually, most of this sexual tension is relieved pretty quickly... My characters aren't very chaste. Except for one.

Yes, there are epic cricket games, but only one character is actually a part of these. He is a damn good batter, and looks fantastic in his flannels. And SPOILER he goes pro in later sequels (did I mention that I've planned a lot of these books?). Also -- cricket masturbation? Maybe just a little. Embrace it, people. You've got to embrace it.

My story doesn't *open* with a suicide, but there is a minor character suicide later on. It's not all that heart-wrenching, but believe me, it sets some serious shit in motion. Expulsion, perhaps? Nah, it's worse than that. Actually, a character dies before the story opens too, but this is purely for backstory purposes. And btw, this death is a drowning, and it's TOTALLY heartwrenching. Don't get me started on it.

No time travel, unfortunately. But I'll admit that my characters are locked in a sort of time warp. It's a present day setting, with serious antique influences. The language is a mix of Edwardian school-boy slang, and modern speech, and sometimes even lapses into ebonics. They use IPods, turntables and phonographs. They drive cars, and ride old fashioned bicycles. Fagging still goes on, but caning does not. And most importantly, they have all night raves in the woods where everyone dresses in tail coats and top hats. These giant parties are central to my story.

Most of the boys are hopelessly girl obsessed, but none of my main characters are. This is not to say that they don't like women, it's just that they're too refined to be "obsessed" with anything. Well, that's not true. But you get the point. And anyway, there will still be loss of virginity. Oh, and actually I lied. By book two, the original characters have graduated, and we jump forward in time to when their fags are in their senior year, and these guys can be pretty desperate for the women.

There aren't nearly as many letters as I'd like there to be until book three, and by that time it's just depressing because they're all grown up and moving on in life. We won't talk about this.

Decadent descriptions are a must. Compound words of my own creation are a MUST. There are rituals for everything. The appendices will explain. Some are borrowed from real church ceremonies and school traditions, but many of them are made up. For example, have you ever heard of "Change a Pudding"? Didn't think so.

It doesn't take 500 pages for the main romance to come together, but it does take a good long time. And even then it's not all that steady. Most of the other romances are just totally fucked up. Except for anything involving one character, because he's very wholesome.

There is definitely prostitution. (Not inside the school though.) No doctors. Possible dream sequences.

Oh, and the school slut's name is Philip "Pop Tart" Tait. And if that isn't completely awesome, I don't know what is.

I may post more about this another time, since it takes up a lot of thought and most of the other things I spend time on are basically just research.

plenty bottle of cola wine

2006-10-29T21:24:00.000-08:00

Last night, at my parent's Halloween Party, OMey-G put on Toots and the Maytals. I was instantly transported back to my childhood. I can remember my parents dancing together in the kitchen while I sat on the counter eating crackers.

I wish I knew how to put songs online so I could instantly give you a taste of this nostalgia. But no, if you care at all you have to go download it yourself. I suggest "Sweet and Dandy".

i see london, i see sam's town

2006-10-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

This picture is pretty much the most awesome thing to happen to the internet in some time. Click to enlarge. It's only as cool as it is when you can read the bubble.

In less happy news, my academic writing is so rusty that it's painful. I won't go into detail because then you too will cringe.I just want to fast-forward a month to when it all comes easily again.

and my heart, it don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to

2006-10-25T20:29:00.000-07:00

Praise me: I have finished translating one whole comic.
Pity me: I still have 9 left.

I'm super proud though. In fact, I might type it all up at some point and lend them out along with my little bookies. Then EVERYONE can understand this insanity. This insanity that takes up unholy amounts of time, energy and emotion.

In other news, I think I must have a parasite. It would explain the almost constant stomach troubles, and how I'm not getting any fatter, despite doing shit all. I don't want to find out for sure though, so maybe him (the worm) and I can have a nice give-and-take, you rub my back, I'll rub yours relationship. Maybe?

Also, question -- does anybody know anything about this prehistoric GIANT BEAVER?
That's even better than giant land sloths. And let's be honest, I've been stupidly hyped on giant land sloths ever since my uncle described one to me when I was 6 years old. They're like sloths, but they live on land, and THEY ARE GIANT. Like, guys, seriously. Big freaking sloths. And now it turns out that these sloths had enormous, Canadian, dam-building friends.

I'm pretty sure I've told the gallery this before, but I spend a lot of time thinking about how much better my life would be if I had a holodeck. A holodeck is better than a time-machine because you create your own reality. So yes, I could go and live as a school boy in the 1900s, but there would be none of the disappointments of reality. Instead, it would all be cricket and ragging and idealistic summer terms where everyone goes home except for me and my best bud and we get to rule the deserted school in short-pants and sandals, school tie around the waist. I would give up everything I have and love in order to own a holodeck. And I'd never have to live with the consequences of that decision because I'd be living in my own perfect fantasy.
And don't get me wrong, because my life is pretty damn good - wouldn't trade it for the world... unless you're offering me a holodeck.

The new Killer's album is really catchy. Definitely meant to be played at maximum volume.

::Listening to Reasons Unknown by The Killers.::

i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled

2006-10-23T15:31:00.000-07:00

My life, in a nut shell:
-I plan my Halloween costume, I cry a lot, I have a shiny new crush (of the giggly kind), and I do way less work than I should -- which is going to bite me in the ass SOON SOON SOON. I can feel it coming, the biting.

Also, I had a dream that all of my favourite school boy novels had secret sequels, with names like "Jeremy, One And A Half" (sequel to Jeremy At Crale) and "The Hill - Extra" (sequel to The Hill). Even during the dream I thought that the titles were ridiculous.

your hair was long when we first met

2006-10-16T20:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamed about Kaze to Ki no Uta.
In the dream, I was Serge (the one with curly, dark hair). Gilbert and I went horseback riding and I sang "Roxanne" to him.
It's funny because he's a prostitute.

This comic is a lot like my Ultimate Guilty Pleasure Novel, except that I'm not at all guilty about it. Also, there's no time travel and the suicide comes at the end. But you take what you can get.

and the history books forgot about us

2006-10-15T13:25:00.000-07:00

Ulysses leaves in possibly less than a week.

I didn't have time to prepare. He only told me last weekend.

He slept here last night and sang to me this morning.

I'm scared for him. I'm scared of how much I'll miss him.

::Listening to Samson by Regina Spektor::

when i play doctor, i play to win

2006-10-14T13:26:00.000-07:00

All I do is cry and translate and then cry some more.

I have never been so moved by a piece of literature. Ever.

sodomites and sassafras

2006-10-12T23:16:00.000-07:00

Gathered at the knee!
Tada! Welcome to the unveiling.
A word of advice to all those internet-illiterate bloggers, like myself: Blogger Beta is like html for dummies. Real dummies. Dunce-cap-dummies. It has a drag and drop interface, so you really can't go wrong.

To your right you will find a revised link list. I realize that this needed to be done a long time ago. Half of those sites were deadzones, and really, some of my favourite blogs weren't even up there. Also, check out the new comic sites. I've been reading them for years, but only now do they make the list.

Above the links you will see Master Boyd Holbrook, taking off his knickers -- because here at Knickerbockers Anonymous, we're trying to move on.

That's all for now. My comics have come, and I must get back to translating.

decadence becomes me

2006-10-09T02:57:00.000-07:00

In grade three I had this lunch moniter names Tyler. All I remember about him is that he made a bet with me and I won. I cannot, for the life of me, remember what we were betting on, but the point is- I won. He owed me a chocoloate bar.
However, being a cheap grade seven-er, he never paid up. Every so often I recognize him on the street and think, 'That bastard owes me some chocolate."
So tonight, after holding a decade long grudge, the debt was finally paid off. I ran into him at QVs, and though he didn't recognize me, he bought me my chocolate. I think he was just amused at the fact that I had held on to something so trivial.

Anyway, I'm totally stoked. I can finally let this one go. There's one name crossed off my list.

In other news, things are changing over here at Undead Alice. I'm in the process of switching over to Blogger Beta, and in a couple of days things will be looking brand-shiny-new. There's even talk of a name change(!!).

beastly luxurious

2006-10-08T21:06:00.000-07:00

Tonight, my uncle Rick said that I was "bitter and cynical".

I thought I was getting better, but I will never escape this.

this one time, ghost lesbians in the elevator

2006-10-06T23:54:00.000-07:00

I got 93% on my first exam. Rock on, bitches.

Watch this:
Oscar Wilde animation.

I especially like it because it doesn't make Bosie out to be the scum of the earth. (And you all know that it is my great mission in life to right this wrong -- this great historical injustice. He was a brat, yes, but always true to Oscar.)

And while you're there, you might as well watch this, because it is the single hottest moment in all of Velvet Goldmine. Although, I'm a little disappointed that the clip cuts off before he seduces the school boy.

So, did you, The Peanut Gallery, realize that Kipling wrote a school boy novel? Because if you did know, YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME SOONER.
"Stalky and Co." I'm really loving it. It uses the most complicated school boy slang I have ever read. I'm taking notes. It's lovely.

I'm already starting my Christmas wish list. It mostly includes things like this vintage Wodehouse.
I'm a sucker for cool cover art.

face cold steel, feeble cannon restraint rope

2006-10-05T16:53:00.000-07:00

Great-sainted-jumping-monkeys, the internet is awesome! It never ceases to amaze me.

Today I found the Monkey Island Theme (Club Mix).

Totally by accident, I might add. (Because what kind of loser goes looking for techno versions of their favourite computer game's theme song... )

Man, I miss that game.

"You fool! You've just given cheese to a lactose intolerant volcano god! Do you know what this means? You've brought about the Coming of the Divine Dysentery!"

"You know, I don't think my father would approve of me dating the undead."

"Well, sure, mist is pretty, but EGAD is it dull."

"That's the second biggest monkey I've ever seen."

-"You fight like a dairy farmer."
-"How appropriate. You fight like a cow!"

-"Is Guybrush a French name?"
-"No, it's a fictional name."

-Well, Haggis is only my nickname. My true name is 'Heart Lungs And Liver Boiled In The Stomach Of The Animal Mcmutton'.
-Oh, so your parents were expecting a girl.
-Aye.

::Can I interest you in some shrapnelizing ammunition designed to bring exquisite pain and unreasonable suffering to all your enemies?::

his sense, like his own importance, is magnificently exaggerated

2006-10-04T17:00:00.000-07:00

They gave me a new -- hardcore!! -- ointment for my cancer-babies, and it works like a charm. Even Harold Li-Zhin (say it out loud) has almost disappeared. They asked me to leave a couple so that the dermatologist can look at them... btu screw it. I'm getting rid of them all.

The downside is, I have to put it on three times a day, and it takes about ten min. each time. There are just so many of the things! I have get fully undressed and use a mirror to find all the ones on my back. It's no fun.

Daily I have to listen to the idiots who sit beside me on the bus.
I present an excerpt from the conversation I overheard yesterday:

Boy:
So, are you still babysitting?

Girl:
Yeah. New kids though.

Boy:
Oh yeah?

Girl:
They're, like, really smart. Like Mensa.

Boy:
Sorry, what?

Girl:
Like, Mensa. This one boy's like totally Mensa.

Boy:
What is that? Like a math term?

Girl:
No. Like... it's just Mensa. It's like *above* genius.

Boy:
Oh, like classification?

Girl:
Yeah.

Boy:
So, are you Mensa?

Girl:
Well, I don't know, I've never taken a test. But this kid is. He's like ten years old and he's reading "War and Peace". I don't think he's getting much out of it though. He's just doing it for show or something.

Boy:
Ha. Yeah, like my little brother was reading Dost... Dosty-

Girl:
Dost-i-wosky.

Boy:
Yeah, yeah. He was reading Dost-i-wosky. But he was just trying to look cool.

Girl:
I don't get it. Russians are so boring.

Well, at least they knew that they were Russian. And these were University students. Sometimes I despair.

----

So, you all know how much I hate Thanksgiving. Well this year I hate it even more because there's no post on holidays. ARGH. I'm so impatient

finge i

2006-10-03T19:53:00.000-07:00

My birthday is National Masturbation Day.

The only other point of interest about my birthday is that Beethoven's Ninth Symphony was first premiered on it.

Apparently I have no patron saint. I was disappointed.

So, I'm kind of freaking out because my good-old-online-Japanese-bookstore happens to be out of stock of Tohma no Shinzou, which means that they have to order it from Japan. It's not going to get here for more than a month. I am not a patient person. I am not happy.

Mind you, it turns out I got a darn good deal on the rest of my purchases, so I forgive them. I bought each tankouban for about 20 dollars less than you can find it anywhere else. Booyah.

an instrument of such keen perceptions

2006-10-02T15:46:00.000-07:00

More pictures. Can you deal?

I have been holding back from writing this post for a few days now -- these are not things one should share. But I just can't hold it in any longer...

I am in love.

I am in love, and it feels great. And I don't mean this in the throw-away sense that I usually do. (Yes, I realize I use the terms "hate" and "love" like they're hellos. Wh'ever.)
But this is love in the passionate, obsessive way that I love very few things. Perhaps only Brideshead. Or Sailor Moon, in my early highschool days. (I still love the SM, but it's more like the love of a couple on their 25th anniversary: all comfort and affection, but no Zsa-Zsa-Zsu.)

Oh God, I'm in love with Kaze to Ki no Uta.
But not *just* Kaze to Ki... it's that plus its sister series Tohma no Shinzou. Then add to it all of the other beautiful 1970s, shoujo mangas, their authors, who are not only great artists, but also intelligent, interesting people, and then throw in some of the other female writers from that time, and you get all of the "49-ers" and "O-Izumi Salon"-ers. This is what I spend all my time sighing and swooning over.

I have midterms this week, but I can't concentrate on study. And I don't even care because it feels so GOOD to be this obsessed. My heart is too invested in these characters to think about anything else for more than thirty seconds. And this isn't an exaggeration. True. All true. I can hardly sleep at night, and I can hardly talk for fear that it'll be my only topic of conversation (which it is).

I am furious in love. I hope it never stops.

In fact, it's exactly how I was when Sailor Moon was in the mail from Vermont. I thought of nothing else, I talked of nothing else, and when they finally came I did nothing except watch them for 3 months straight.
... and I still get stupidly excited by sites like this: The Super Sailor Universe, where you can find all the episodes for free.

See, classic manga is completely different from the manga coming out today.
They were decadent back then. The stories were melodramatic, and the art was either over the top and flowery (literally!) or moodie and contrasting. They didn't have the automatic shading tones and things that mangaka have today, so it was all black and white and crosshatching. It's so much more dramatic.
These days comics try to be realistic. And I say that with total contempt. Who wants realism? *Life* is real! It's so much more fun to escape into something so romantic.

I can't believe I have to wait another two weeks. I've already exhausted the internet of all it's information. I'm going insane.

-Oh, and it's time for my yearly shout out to my BENBOY, who is now "Of Age". Congrats on living this long, baby.

-My cat just jumped onto my trendy $90 sweater vest and started needing his claws into it. I almost had a heart attack. Actually. What with cats and moths, how is one supposed to save the sweaters of the world? (And I am very keen on saving sweaters.)

-Before Renee met Jo and me, she thought that we were one girl named Joanne-Milly. A made-up name derived from the phrase "Jo and Milly" which is how she always heard us referred.

::Listening to a mix of Erasure, Feist, The Killers and MCOG music. Strange, I know.::

this clean, white spirit of disinfection

2006-09-28T15:48:00.000-07:00

Health post!
(Y'all ready for this?)

I don't have Pityriasis Rosea. They've lied to me. Twice.
These terrible things all over my body are probably some kind of mutant psoriasis. But that's only a guess. The truth of the matter is that they HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.
They're sending me to both a dermatologist and an allergist, and hopefully between the two of them they'll be able to solve the mystery of Amelia's Peeling Lesions.
I'm kind of miserable at the moment. If it is psoriasis, it'll keep coming back; and if it's not, I predict oncologist appointments in my future.

I hate doctors. Their incompetence has just been proven again. I had to sit in that office for almost 2 hours in order to have a 5 minute appointment that solved nothing.

Not only that, but this was my *family doctor's* office -- a place that terrifies me about ten times more than most doctor's offices. I hadn't been there in about 6 years, and the smell of the place made me physically sick. The last few years, I've made it my habit to only go to the doctor's when I absolutely have to (read: when my mother drags me there), and even then I make sure that it's a different walk in clinic every time. It's just a strange paranoia I have about one person knowing all of my physical ailments. It creeps me out. It's something I avoid.

Don't get me wrong, there's no childhood trauma or anything that caused this fear. In fact, my family doctor is the smallest, meekest, nicest person I've ever met.
But I *hate* her. I can't explain it.

::this modernist irony::

vienna-flute, diapson, dulciana, bourdon

2006-09-27T22:47:00.000-07:00

I am totally and completely obsessed. I will not breathe right until I am holding these books in my hands.

11 of the beautiful little things are on their way to my house. I'll have to read them page by page with a dictionary -- but so what!

I'm dying.

profuse knick-knackiness

2006-09-26T19:34:00.000-07:00

So guess who just spent more than $100 on 70s school boy manga?

That's right. It's me.

I'm so excited. They come in two weeks.

::and crazy trifles::

such shiveringly fine nerves

2006-09-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my friends and I cooked a giant feast and fed 20 people.
-Kalamari
-Zucchini sticks
-Pecan and orange salad
-Spicy Thai soup
-Veggie stirfry
-Beer batter chicken
-Teriyaki chicken and prawns
-Rice and noodles
-Creampuffs
-Cheesecake with strawberry sauce
So that took a full day (almost 12 hours in all). Heck, I'm still full, and I have a fridge full of creampuffs left over.

The only other thing I did this weekend was watch my favourite childhood movies with Joanna. We went to the library and *cleaned up*. We both walked out with about 15.

We also borrowed the Swallows and Amazons movies. I had never seen them, but Jo claimed that I would love them.
Well, she was right. It's been a long time since I've watched anything that staggeringly GOOD. It's about a group of kids in Norfolk who are drawn together by their love of birds and all things nautical. They each have little sailboats and meet on the river and go on adventures together. Man, it's cute. I could hardly contain myself. My favourite characters are these three little boys (The Death and Glory Boys) who buy a big boat together and sleep on it almost every night and make money by salvaging other boats and catching bait for the local fishermen. You never see their parents. The other kids all have parents, but these three just blissfully float around with all the freedom in the world.
I also love the twins. Their names are Port and Starboard because one's left handed and the other's right handed. The best scenes are when they're talking to their dad. They call him "AP" (Aged Parent), and he calls them Horrible and Dreadful. I'm picking up some good nicknames here.

I also watched Anne of Avonlea, which rekindled my love of Anne/Gilbert. I was so happy when they finally got engaged that I cried quite a bit. And then I went and reread all the romantic parts of the books. I'm such a sap. (I bet you didn't know I was a huge fan.)

Today was a hellish school day and I'm glad it's over. I had my first in-class essay in English, and then an oral exam in Japanese. It sucked. I have no idea how well I did on either. I'm crossing my fingers.
But I picked up my five hundred dollar paycheck, so I'm okay.

...Hmm, what else has happened in this last week?
-I went shopping and bought a lot of nice clothing.
-I saw Snakes On A Mother-Fucking Plane with a ton of my friends. We took up two rows, and were very noisy. (By far my favourite part is when the villain claims that putting snakes on a plane was his last resort. "Don't you think I've tried everything else?" Prime stuff, right there.)
-There was a party at Merks. Well, two parties.
-I joined an improv club, and I'm a little in love with this really witty boy who looks like Brad Pitt.
-They finally let me look at the Eton Candle. I can not do it justice by writing about it here. Just take my word for it: IT WAS PERFECT.
-I also did an online quiz that claimed that if I lived in the world of Harry Potter, I would be Draco's girlfriend (who is totally hot, now that fandom has leather-fied him), and that Snape would be my father figure. I just thought you should know.

And yeah. I'm so behind. I'll try to do better next time.

::Listening to Tv on the Radio::

the poor, stifled language of our love

2006-09-09T00:50:00.000-07:00

Operation First-Week-Of-Class-Plus-Bookstore-Job was not only a go, but a success. My teachers are intelligent and funny, and while University is a very large, lonely place, it promises to be a lot of fun as well.

Made a wonderful discovery the other day. It's actually a rather long story, but I'll save you the details since I'm the only one that really cares.
The Uvic library has a *real* issue of The Eton Candle in its Special Collections. Thsi is like a literary Holy Grail to me. It's a school magazine created by two of my biggest no-name heroes, and the paper is notoriously difficult to get ahold of. I had heard that practically all of the surviving issues were either in private collections or kept at Eton's library. So believe me when I say that I was stupidly excited when I found out that they had a 1922 issue right there on campus.
I talked to the lady in Special Collections. She gave me a sheet to fill out asking everything from my name to my reasons for wanting to look at the journal (umm... entertainment?), and then looked it over telling me that it was in some extra-special archive that's being cleaned out right now, and that the soonest I'll be able to get to it is on Monday. I'm holding my breath.

My Four Exceptional Dreams Involving Stephen Fry:

1. Stephen Fry and I are great friends. For some reason we are sitting in bed with four or so other people. We valiantly try to make conversation but it never manages to rise above small talk. It's all very embarrassing. Nobody thinks to leave.

2. Stephen Fry and I are great friends. He's filming a movie with Jude Law and knows that I am a fan, so he arranges for the three of us to go have drinks together. Mr. Law and I hit it off spectacularly and sneak off for a night of illicit passion. I get back to SF's flat very late at night and he bombards me with giggly questions of the 'OMG, tell me everything' variety. And I do. We laugh A LOT. In fact, at one point we're standing in his kitchen and he's eating olives out of a jar and I tell him some odd detail of my short affair with JL and he laughs so hard that he falls on the floor. And so do I. It is the very best joke.

3. Stephen Fry and I are great friends. For my birthday he buys me a copy of Bosie's last memoir, "Without Apology", which is a frighteningly expensive book (which they also happen to have in Uvic's Special Collections). Then we walk around London see a very large apartment for sale. We go to the open house and we both fall in love with it. We move in together. The rest of the dream is spent deciding which books we should take good care of and actually keep on shelves, and which we just want to display for the world by stacking them instead of a coffee table. Favourite books are protected, books that are merely impressive are coffee stained.

4. Stephen Fry and I are great friends. He mentions that Hugh [Laurie] really likes me and that he's asked us both over for dinner the next night. I wake up before I get to meet him.

I'm still not over Simon Raven. This man is the exact writer I wish I was -- modern, yet still in touch with old Britain and its traditions; his language is fluid and elegant, but not afraid to be cheeky or even juvenile. I can't get enough of it. Luckily, there are still 6 novels left in the series for me to read.

A few nights ago, Tim taught a really funny game to Renee, Bay, Phoebe, and I. You write a "what if" question on a pieve of paper, then pass it to another person. Someone else in the group will pass you theirs, and on this piece of paper you write the answer to your original question. You then read out all of the answers and it can be quite hilarious.

Some of the results:
-What if popcorn was the new marijuana? Then it would be the stuff of nightmares.
-What if Phoebe has the widest ass this side of Kentucky? Then I wouldn't cry anymore.
-What if Tom Cruise wasn't a scientologist? Then Hugh Hefner would be king.

Then we altered the game so that you passed the paper around a second time and added a second answer to your first question.
-What if wearing dead lizards as fur pelts was considered high fashion? Then hippies would be rich, and sex would be soooo secretive.
-What if farmers harvested people? Then we'd all grow up wearing leashes, and would probably be a lot less happy.
-What if all children were violent and evil? Then Easter would always be late, and our mothers would cower in fear.
-What if we were all Amish? Then I would slap you, and cops would still love to beat us.

I just watched the finale to Sex and the City. It made me cry. Quite a bit.

::It's raining. Woot.::

whisky tango foxtrot

2006-09-05T19:05:00.000-07:00

House party tonight! (Haha, get it? Like we're totally just watching the House premier.)

I have to tell you about cricket.
Ulysses and I had a cricket picnic. We sat on a blanket in poncey clothing and ate cucumber sandwiches while watching the game (which neither of us understood... at all). I knew that at some point I was going to have to befriend an old man who knew the rules. I was psyching myself up for this event, and already had my eye on one who looked particularly British.
Well -- lo and behold -- he came to us. He wanted our sandwiches.
So I traded this guy a cucumber sandwich in exchange for him explaining the game to us. Not only did he explain the game, but he talked with us for well over an hour.
His name was Peter Seale, and by the end of the day we pretty much knew his life story, and let me tell you, that is no little thing. This man was 82 and had pretty much lived the exact life I wish I could have had.

-He came from a rich Irish family, although he grew up in England.
-He was part of the British airforce in the war. Got all of the glory and none of the action.
-He was an actor.
-He was an English teacher.
-He played cricket and rugby for years and years. (Only quit playing two years ago.)
-He was wearing white linen trousers, a wide brimmed hat, a fancy jacket and shiny shoes. It was classic.

And this guy was really cheeky. For example, he was joking about how when he played cricket, they would actually be drinking gin and tonic during water breaks. So they would be pissed drunk on the field and the crowd would never know.

He invited Ulysses and I to come have tea at his house sometime, and we're totally going to take him up on it.

So basically, I love this man to death. And I'm proud to say I have a pretty good knowledge of how cricket works.

::It's like watching Oscar Wilde and Noel Coward in third grade!::

and the sea grows

2006-09-01T17:11:00.000-07:00

Had to go to the doctor again today.

I don't have eczema. I have Pityriasis Rosea, which is often mistaken for eczema or syphilis (ha! I am so good).
Apparently it wasn't even a spider bite -- the big gaping-wound-thing was a "herald lesion", announcing the future eruptions of smaller lesions. Woohoo.

It'll go away on it's own, but not for another few weeks. In the meantime I look like I have shingles. More of the little buggers pop up every day and there's no treatment for it.

I just hope that they don't start spreading to places that I can't cover up with clothing.

i suspect even the vicar thinks i'm a freak

2006-08-31T20:39:00.000-07:00

I love Jaida's journal.
Today she asked the question, what is your Ultimate Guilty Pleasure Book And What Would Happen In It If It Actually Existed (Though Sadly It Doesn't Yet)?

So here's mine:
-It would be about school boys, obviously. Quite possibly Etonians.
-All characters would be super-humanly witty and bright, and would endlessly quote my favourite literature.
-Lots of sexual tension.
-Epic cricket games. Described like noble battle scenes. And lots of description of the shining white flannel worn by the players.
-The sexual tension and cricket games would come in contact all the time. And since this is my *ultimate* guilty pleasure book, it would have a gratuitously long scene of shameless masturbation, by a boy watching the prettiest cricket star (who he is, of course, in love with) hit his first century.
-Unrequited love would lead to a suicide. In fact, the story would open with a suicide. Along with an achingly beautiful suicide note.
-There would also be time travel. Lots of it. But don't ask me how this fits in.
-One group of boys would be hopelessly girl-obsessed. There would be lots of awkward touching and giggling with the headmaster's daughter or the kitchen girl. Only one of them will actually lose his virginity, and the scene will be painful to read.
-Lots of letters. A large portion of the book will be in the form of correspondence over summer hols.
-Decadent descriptions of food, clothing, elegant parties, church ceremonies and the beauty of the boys.
-The main romance would finally be consummated after about 500 pages of witing, and there would be lots of romantic, music-swelling, love-making - sometimes on the cricket field (okay, I'm beginning to think I have some kinf of fetish).
-There would also be prostitutes, doctors and bizarre dream sequences.
-It would have loads of sequels, and about 200 appendices explaining family lines, back stories, religion, school politics and rules, strange school boy slang and customs, including fagging, pop, heads of house and the sixth form.

Tell me about your Ultimate Guilty Pleasure Book! I want to know all about it. In as much detail as possible.
Also, if any of my writing friends are up to the challange, I would love to have a passage of my Ultimate Guilty Pleasure Book written. Please? Pretty please?

I really liked "The History Boys".
"The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours."
My one real complaint with the play is that the one character you really wanted to end up happy spends his entire life lonely and depressed. It made me want to die.

I was at the Uvic library for much too long today. Read all of the "Evelyn Waugh Newsletter" from 1970 to the present, spent an hour or so in the Eton section, and found out that it has a copy of "Without Apology" (although only in the Special Collections room). I almost peed myself.

Have also converted all of my Mcog music to mp3 so I can listen to it wherever I go on my little pod.

::our eyes meet looking at him::

starved for antiquity

2006-08-31T14:34:00.000-07:00

Who wants to come watch cricket with me on the 2nd, at Beacon Hill, 1o:00 am? Let's have a poncey picnic!

Plus, c'mon -- cricket whites. So pretty.

::history is just one fucking thing after another::

manicures and world domination

2006-08-26T20:59:00.000-07:00

I've had this huge gaping... thing on my arm for a month now. On a good day it just peels, but on those other days it leaks thick orange goop from its pores.

Well at first I thought it was just a spider bite turned evil. But as it started to grow (it's now about 5 times it's original size and won't fit under a band-aid) I decided that it must be something fouler, like eczema (or syphilis).

So I finally dragged myself to the clinic today after finding similar little marks on my stomach (Oh shit, I say, I've got the pox!), and it turns out I'm right on both accounts. I have an eczema reaction to spider's venom. Fun. So they gave me some ointment.

I hate ointment. I don't trust it.

Like that time they gave me an ointment for my wart saying that it would go away within ten days. Well, it didn't. Not the tiniest bit, it didn't. So eventually I was just like, "To hell with it, I'm going to burn this little Fucker off no matter how much it hurts!". But then, you know what? It hardly hurt at all. In fact it was almost enjoyable because you could watch it disappear right before your eyes until all that was left was a frozen little crater on your finger. So while I was at it I burned off a handful of other things that were worrying me.

I'm very pro hydrogen-burning.

75 cents a weasel

2006-08-26T13:04:00.000-07:00

How could you not love this man?

::Merk's apartment is super cute.::

vanitas vanitatum, omnia vanitas

2006-08-17T23:47:00.000-07:00

Many of you have heard me rant about the wonderful, addicting French cartoon I used to watch every morning before Sailor Moon. I didn't understand a word of it, but I was bloody devoted to it. I watched it religiously. As far as I could tell, it was about a kid, possibly a thief, a princess, possibly kidnapped, and a slave. It took place during the age of Spanish exploration and there were definitely Incas involved. And it had the catchiest Peruvian-synth music as a soundtrack.

Anway, the point is, I adored this show. But it was only on for about a year, and then it was taken away from me. I was pretty much heartbroken.

So now - just now- I finally found out it's name...

The Mysterious Cities of Gold (!)

And it looks like I can download it off the net. I already downloaded some of the music, and when I heard it I was instantly transported back into my childhood and started crying. Clearly I'm emotionally unstable.

Turns out it's Franime (a joint French-Japanese production). No wonder it's hard to find.

her ears issued a pressing invitation to insert one's tongue into them

2006-08-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

Things that make today's list:

-Angels in America
-Alms for Oblivion
-Goldfrapp
-School boy novels
-Scholarships
-Techno
-Youtube
-Allen Schezar
-Gary Glitter
-"We demand tea!"

1. Angels in America: This is my favourite play of all time. As many of you know, I performed excerpts from it last summer with the theatre gang. Since then I've been completely devoted to it, especially to the line, "Fuck you, I'm a prophet." It was also one of the things that I had to see before I died. So I'm seeing it this weekend in Vancouver with Jo and The Cuz. It better be as good as it can be. If the actors disappoint I may have to commit ritual suicide or something.

2. Alms for Oblivion: Simon Raven writes damn fun novels. Alms for Obvlion is a series of ten books, connected by various characters but all with different story lines. The first are set in the 40s and the last in the 70s. It's almost like reading a fantasy series, because even though the books chronicle normal enough events, the characters are all much too sophisticated and witty to seem like real people, and yet it's all completely believable within the world he's created. He has common 16 year olds saying very deep things in surprisingly florid language ALL THE TIME. As if this is how all teenagers act. It's all very entertaining, and beautifully written. Plus, he's such a cad, and a funny cad at that. They're not "nice" books. They're all very recognizably British, but never prudish and stiff-upper-lipped (y'know?). I especially love Mr. Fielding Gray, along with all his debauchery and boredom.

3. Goldfrapp is catchy stuff, and I spend a lot of time listening to it.

4. I have cut down my summer reading list by vowing to only read school boy novels for the rest of the summer. Mind you, I just got out four more from the library, so I'm not exactly depriving myself. David Blaize is especially sweet. I'm fascinated by school boy sexuality, and school boy love of cricket, and strange school boy parlance. Rather ripping stuff, no?

5.Scholarships give me my much needed money.

6.Techno. Ummm.... guilty pleasure?

7.Youtube: The things you can find on this site! My God, it's fairly amazing. It constantly surprises me by popping up with movies and film clips that I've spent a good part of my life looking for, unsuccessfully until now.

8.Allen Schezar: Come on. He's a hotty and you know it. (Was watching Escaflowne with my cousins over the weekend.)

9.Do You Wanna Touch Me- Gary Glitter. Soundtrack to my favourite scene from Velvet Goldmine.

10. "We demand tea!" This was the one redeeming moment in an otherwise terrible movie. These days I demand tea often and inappropriately.

jesus wouldn't like chick music

2006-08-12T00:06:00.000-07:00

I have tickets to Angels in America(!!!), I'm listening to Goldfrapp, my house is crawling with the old rellies, and tomorrow is going to be a good day. Jo, Renee and I are going out to Fort Rodd Hill to frolic and then off to Pizza Night at the big house, and then... the Observatory!
(Heads up, Jo. Renee is coming with. She's home for a bit.)

Stephen Fry's novel 'The Hippopotamus' was brilliant. So gross and mean and wonderful. I love him.

My job is sort of fun. There are all kinds of friendly natives to help me out, and I play games to keep from getting bored. For example, I find that I can predict what subject a person is studyig before they even start picking up their textbooks. It's in the way they dress and hold themselves. Trendy girls are almost always headed towards Law or Psych. Loud, obnoxious nerds are generally science kids, quiet nerds are there for the history, and scenesters read English (I hate this fact). I have about an 80 percent success rate. Honest. Try me.

Also, two rather pompous profs stood in the book aisles for over an hour having a conversation that went something like this:

Professor Over-Enthused:
Ted! How are you?!

Professor Snotty-Pants:
Oh, about the same.

Prof O-E:
Yeah? Well... Well! So. What brings you here? Looking for *your* book? Ha.

Prof S-P:
Actually, yes. Hrmph. Tells a great lot about the teacher when I find they're using my text. How about you?

Prof O-E:
Umm, well, I'm looking for my book too. My novel, you know. Some of the classes are using it. Just thought I'd come, you know, check in on it. Ha!

Prof S-P:
Hmm, quite.

So, yes. It went on like that FOR OVER AN HOUR and they were in my way. They didn't buy anything. They just gossipped about students and listed their many achievements. I hope I never have to have a class with either of them.

love, love is a verb

2006-08-09T19:16:00.000-07:00

Also, the random haiku generator made this for me:

Pick up a book and
hours later realize
the birds understood.

Quite lovely. You should try. Haiku generator.

So after writing my Disney rant, I got a huge craving to go and watch some. I watched Snow White last night, and yes, the prince is still very pretty. But then today I watched Beauty and the Beast, and I appreciated it more than I ever have. It's actually a fairly moving story if you let yourself get into it. And while Beast is decidely not hot, he turns into a sexy prince with long prince-ly blonde hair. Okay, so yes, I cried. Haha. Which is funny because I haven't cried over a Disney movie in a long time. But when he released her to go save her father and then was all heartbroken, for the first time I was pretty heartbroken as well.
Also, the part with the library. I realize now that I will never be happy until someone gives *me* a library, a library just like the one that he gives Belle, with so many books that a whole team of speed readers couldn't get through them in their lifetime. It's like a grand ballroom where the walls are made of books. This is my dream.

I really loved House Vs. God.
I really love faith healers and Wilson sleeping with his patients. And I love Chase, because, well, he's so Chase. Plus, the poker scene was great.
BUT-- how did Chase get out of the house without getting caught? Jeez, cop-out. That would have been a good scene.

::Listening to Do You Wanna Touch by Gary Glitter, over and over and over again. Reminds me of Velvet Goldmine.::

had i killed a head of household?

2006-08-08T14:47:00.000-07:00

I just read the latest post on Jaida's journal, and she was talking about how large a role Disney played in her childhood. Also, there was a poll -- favourite characters, the characters that you *were*, crushes, etc.
She also brought up an interesting point: that talking animals can be hot, and this is disturbing.

So yeah, I had a huge freaking crush on fox Robin Hood as a kid. I'm just going to throw that out there. He was so charming and heroic and British. And had that little bit of a cocky swagger, because he knew that no one can beat him. But then he was so sweet when he was with Mariann (sp?), and there's that scene when he proposes to her while fighting off a whole crowd of royal guards (read: rhinos). And I was always fascinated by the phrase "childhood sweetheart", because that's how him and Mariann described each other. As if they'd known each other forever and it was the most natural thing for them to fall in love.
Well, I LOVED HIM. In fact, I loved him so much that I wanted to be him. I was Robin Hood for Halloween every year (with ears and a tail, of course), and one year, for my birthday, my dad made me a working bow and arrow and I just about peed myself.
I would go the park and make friends by casting the other kids as the other characters from the movie. And I would make my mom do the Pittsie thing: every hour on the hour she'd have to say "12 o'clock and all's clear" or "3 o'clock and all's clear", so I could stage fake jail breaks.
And I loved the music as well.

So how is it that Disney can make animal characters so attractive? Because at the time, my other great loves were also animals. For example, Basil of Baker Street was looking pretty fine to a 7 year old me. Which is especially funny because I can hardly sit through that movie these days.

Of course, not all my Disney crushes have had fur. I've got a giant thing for the Prince in Snow White. Him and his lipstick and white horses and singing. My favourite scene is when he hears Snow White singing and just sort of hops the fence to get to her and joins in - in perfect harmony, no less. I love that song. And then she gets shy and runs away, but kisses the dove and sends it down to him, and then, OHMYGOD, the dove kisses him and blushes and he just smiles and laughs like it's the sweetest thing on earth. And oh jesus, I do like that Prince quite a bit. Especially since he never says anything.

And I swear that Disney has tainted me for life, because there have been more recent animated crushes as well. Like Tarzan, with his nose and strange toes. (He and Jane are my favourite Disney couple EVER!), or Miguel from Road to El Dorado, which is not a Disney movie, but close enough.

So feel free to let me know your secret Disney husband is. Or, you know, you could just call me a freak.

::Oh, and this is a very important question: should I marry Kocoum? (But he's so serious!)::

smiling and waving and looking so fine

2006-07-31T22:44:00.000-07:00

I'm searching the online catalogue of the Uvic library and pissing myself. This library is going to be the biggest danger to what is promising to be an otherwise brilliant school career. Did I mention that I got 95% on my history provincial. Not that I'm conceited or anything. Who me? Watchoo-talkin-bout.

My body's getting so woman-y lately. I fucking hate this shit. Who needs curves! I want to be a roller-skate-skinny teeny bopper forever. But you know what I hate more than body filling-outage? - body working-outage!

Okay, terrifying thing: So I put on my shoe and feel a rock or something in it. So I take it off all lazy like, because who needs to rush when taking little harmless rocks out of shoes?! Ha! But, you may rethink this leisure if the rock is not in fact a rock, but a GIANT DISGUSTING SPIDER! A giant, disgusting spider with a red head and white, translucent abdomen! I screamed and flailed a bit. And refuse to sleep in my room tonight (the shoes were in my closet). *shiver*

In other news, my uncle, who just so happens to be Shanghai, found me the first two seasons of House on DVD for 25 dollars. This is why he's my favourite.

and friendships were formed too romantic to last

2006-07-31T14:43:00.000-07:00

I just cried my little heart out.
Shoebox_Project just updated and it was the loveliest thing I've ever read and by the end I was sobbing. Harder than I have in ages and ages. Happy sobbing too, which is by far the best kind. And my sister heard it and came downstairs and called me a freak. Now I'm just sniffly and content.
Please go read it. It'll do you a lot of good. It's quite honestly the most wonderful thing to happen to the internet. Ever.
And yes, it is slashy later on, but you won't mind because it's very tasteful and never over-dramatic and never cliched. It's perfect. It's just perfect.

::And now I'm off to attempt a sneaky rescue mission. Wish me luck. No, wish Simone luck.::

what would jeeves do

2006-07-27T20:00:00.000-07:00

I want a WWJD (what would Jeeves do?) T-shirt.

I have a job. This job pays me 16 dollars an hour to organize books in tiddly little collumns and push around textbook carts. I'm pretty happy with this.

Also -- just go read Mike and Psmith.
I love every book in this series, but Mike and Psmith holds a special place in my heart as being the first.
These books make me want to be a school boy even more than I did before. Then I could rag on school masters, play cricket all day, and ride my bicycle into town on weekends.
(I had a dream where I was very good at cricket. The problem is - I don't know any of the rules. I was a batter, but when I hit the ball I started running in circles around bases as if I was playing Baseball. I was like wtf, dream? Can't you come up with something better than that? And woke up.)
You'd think I'd be a Psmith person ("the P not being sounded. Compare the name Zbysco, in which the Z is given a similar miss-in-balk."), what with his immaculate dress, eloquent speeches and Etonian history-- but God, I love Mike so much that there' s no room in my heart for anyone else (except for maybe the two of them together, because they make such a fantastic team).
Mike is simple and sweet and wonderful, and so *sensitive*! Whereas Psmith is aloof and self-absorbed, and sees everything as being put there for his personal amusement, Mike is sympathetic, but lacks the words to express it, always going on heroic little quests to save his friends. That said, Psmith is devoted to Mike and does anything to get him out of trouble - as he frequently has to. Psmith is the brains, Mike is the brawn. Psmith is allwords, Mike is all heart. Oh Jeez, I love them.
Plus, it helps that Mike is a cricket star. I don't like sport, but I'm on a sort of cricket kick at the moment. Most of my favourite chapters are the ones where Mike goes and kicks cricketer ass. (Plus, the image of him in his dainty cricket whites is very appealing.)

Now I just need to save up for this.

::While looking up the names of all the books in the series I came across the BEST TERM EVER: Pslash. OMG, wit. I wish I had come up with it.::

how i don't know how to sing

2006-07-26T01:38:00.000-07:00

Amusing anecdote of the day:

Merk, Jo and I go to the beach. Not totally happy with the world, but willing to sit in the cold and stew over things in a cloud of smoke. So this is what we do.

But I've gotten ahead of myself.

First we park the van next to a brawny, rowdy sort of man singing (him, not us) along to The Ramones. Merk bopps her head a bit, mumbles a Hey-Ho-Let's-Go, and accidently catches the guy's attention.

"Yeah, fucking great band, eh?" We nod in a way that suggests that we're vaguely uninterested but being nice nonetheless.

Well, apparently he likes us, because on returning we notice a note written to us *on the window* of our car. It says: Ur so cute! - Ron.

Sweet.

He drives up to us, probably waiting to see our reaction. "Did you read the window? Cause you girls are so cute. Did you know that?" Somehow, he's not creepy when he says this. He just seems incredibly stupid.

"Did you write this?", I ask, totally in shock. He says that he did, and seems very proud of himself because, obviously, we're delighted to have our car vandalized.

I rub at the writing to see if it'll come off. It doesn't. "Is it permanent?"

"I don't know man, I just wrote it. I don't remember." He's laughing while he says this.

"You're crazy!" And by this time I'm laughing too. Because, my god, it is so fucking funny. And I'm not being sarcastic. It is the very best joke. This man is so stupid. It's really unbelievable. He thinks that we're hot, and decides that the best pick-up line is to write us a note - and there's really something wonderful in the extremity of his decision to choose the window. Of course, not wonderful in the sense that he'd like it to be.

And did I mention that he's definitely stoned out of his mind? All of this adds to the hilarity.

Merk and I are killing ourselves. Jo's at a loss for words, I think. After all, it is her van.

But see, as horrible and illegal as it all is - it just seems to add to the van's overall... *appearance*. It's not a pretty van. In fact, only one window works, you can't get into the back, and it looks as if a very dirtly person lives in it. A dirty person who smokes and doesn't care about ash getting EVERYWHERE. This is not Jo's fault. She ships roofers to-and-fro all day long, and they're not a pleasant bunch. But still, the "ur so cute" just seems to fit. As if it was always there and we simlply didn't realize it until today.

Mind you, we did copy down his license plate, so you can be sure that he'll be getting a call from the old popo.

::I can barely play this thing.::

synth in the city

2006-07-19T12:53:00.000-07:00

Have successfully charmed the Uvic Book-Mistress.
Training session next Thurs. Here's hoping they like me.

be still, be calm, be quiet now

2006-07-17T23:06:00.000-07:00

Tonight's conversation:

(Amelia is working on her resume.)

Phoebe:
*looking over her shoulder* We are so lame. We're both applying to bookstores.

Amelia:
Speak for yourself. I'd hire me.

Phoebe:
No, you wouldn't.

Amelia:
Sure I would. I'd give myself a blowjob for the position.

Phoebe:
Ha. I'm also going to apply at Curious Comics.

Amelia:
Speaking of lame...

Phoebe:
--So I can put "Pokeman Master" on my resume.

Amelia.
Ha. Oh well, if Uvic doesn't hire me, I can always fall back on Russells.

Phoebe:
Hey! That's my store!

Amelia:
Too bad. We'll work there together.

Phoebe:
Yeah, and one day we may be able to call it Nezils Books. *looks toward the horizon with ambition in her eyes*

::my precious boy::

weather-vanes and rectory teas

2006-07-17T00:04:00.000-07:00

My Ipod failed me for three whole months. I updated it, reinstalled my Itunes, read help files, screamed at the thing - nothing helped.

Turns out it needed defragging, so I had to restore it. Horror of horrors. That meant losing all of the 500 or so songs that I had taken from other people's computers. It hurt, oh how it hurt.

But at least I have my precious pod back. (During the hiatus I took to calling her Daisy the Screaming Bitchpod.)

Anyway, since the full purge I've stuffed her with new music. Incredibly well fed, my Daisy.

Best 15 songs of the moment:

-Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears (I wish I *was* Tears for Fears.)
-Scummy - The Arctic Monkeys
-Hyper Ballad - Bjork
-Spiderman - The Cure
-Isrealites - Desmond Decker and the Aces (I'm reliving my childhood.)
-Fix Up Look Sharp - Dizzee Rascal (Now you can all find out where I got the phrase.)
-The Sad Witch - Hefner
-Rough Gem - The Islands (...I saw these guys live!)
-Fire and Rain - James Taylor (Thanks to Running On Empty, this song now makes me cry.)
-Teen Angst - M83
-Bring on the Night - The Police
-Mambo Sun - T.Rex
-I'm a Nut - Tiny Tim (Have I ever expressed my love for Tim? I blame it on my aunt singing "Tip Toe Through the Tulips" to me when I was little.)
-The Reasons - The Weakerthans
-Chicago - Sufjan Stevens

Also, just watched the BEST HORNBLOWER EPISODE EVER. I can't emphasize the LOVE enough.
(RIP Archie. I shed a tear for you.)

::"Buggery-ding-dong-shit." My, that Mr Fry has a way with words.::

swoon. i'll catch you

2006-07-14T02:06:00.000-07:00

Books have hijacked my life like dusty little pirates.
Bad for my health, this business of reading. I wake up in the morning, reach over, pick up a book and hours later realize that the day is already on the outs. Or there's the harmless book-before-bed routine. Well, I fall asleep reading every night at, oh, 4:30 in the morning or some other unholy hour. Usually this wouldn't bother me, but considering it's all I've been doing this summer it makes me feel rather guilty and, when I stop for a breather, more than a tad lonely.
And here I'm looking to get a bookshop job. Christjesus.

The problem is, I get so excited every time I go into my room and see the little stack of books on the floor that I can't *not* attend to them. They're demanding little buggers, crying for my attention at all hours of the day. I'll be downtown with a friend and the whole time I'll be distracted by the whining of my ambandoned book pile. Fictional characters will personally harass me. Mike Jackson will be like, "Amelia, you bally tosser, you left me in the middle of a rummy cricket inning, and my arms are getting tired holding up the bat!" and I'll have to dash home to the rescue.
It makes me feel terribly nerd-ish and antisocial.

And yes, I realize there are orphans dying in Africa or Asia or wherever (I've heard that orphans are not an uncommon thing), and compared to their diseases and please-sir-I-want-some-mores I've got it incredibly good. But hell, this isn't Thanksgiving.

Besides, deep down we all know that these are false complaints, that secretly I love having an unending supply of reading material, even if it does put a damper on my social life. Pfft, who needs people anyways?

The Reading List
At the moment I am reading:
-Moab is My Washpot by Stephen Fry - (actually I've finished this one.)
-The Liar by Stephen Fry - (almost finished.)
-The Outsider by Camus - (halfway through.)
-The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami - (rereading this one. Have about 100 pages left, which isn't bad considering it has close to 700 in total.)
-The Inimatable Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse - (halfway through. I used to find Wodehouse so obnoxious, now I can't get enough of the guy. What does this say about me?)
-The World of Psmith by Wodehouse - (only just began this one. Includes Psmith in the City, Psmith, Journalist, and Leave it to Psmith.)
-Beau Brummel - (just started. Oh man, biography of "the ultimate dandy"! And it's THICK, man.)

Other books I plan to read this summer:
-The Kill by Zola
-Kafka on the Shore by Murakami
-Possibly Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs - (I still haven't read this!)
-The Hippopotamus by Stephen Fry
-MORE WODEHOUSE
-Howard's End by Forster - (I've read Forster before and I didn't like it, but I'm willing to give him another chance.)
-Nausea by Sartre
-Lietenant Hornblower by Forester - (I love my Hornblower! I wish my name was Hornblower! My dad said he would disown any daughter of his that called herself Hornblower. Apparently, he finds it rather lewd.)
-The English Patient by Ondatjee - (Give it to me again and again.)

Also, I'm considering finishing Sinister Street once and for all. Sinister Street is made up of four books altogether, and I know I've bored you all by constantly babbling about my love for it, so it probably comes as a shock that I haven't even read the entire thing.
I'm scared too! I don't want it to be over. Ever.
Every time I finish one of the books I think that the next can't possibly live up to the last - and every time I'm proven wrong. So I've been holding off the end.
But apparently in the last book Michael falls back in love with Lily, who is now a prostitute, and gets himself totally shunned from society. I've heard it also has a sad ending. I'm really really excited, guys! Can I read it now? Please, please PLEASE?

I'll leave you with this Stephen Fry quote:
"My vocal cords are made of tweed. I give off an air of Oxford donnishness and old BBC wirelesses."

::welcome to the end of the thought process::

you still have sand in your hair

2006-07-10T23:19:00.000-07:00

Diary of Beth Anderson:

Beth Anderson. I'm shy and I stutter. That's really all you need to know. Hell, that's all that anyone knows. Plus, I'm like totally asexual. Although, sometimes wonder if I secretly like Knox. Or if the writer of the play wants me to. We're always left in rooms together after the other characters leave.

No sexual urges yet. Must try harder.

Jesus, they're talking about the club again. Nerds.

I wrote some poetry, but it was really emo and embarrassing. "White is black / black is white / when you are here / when you are near" Could be screamo lyrics. I could be in a band. I can sing.

Jane says they want me to come with them tonight. Of course they want me to come, I make them feel better about themselves. Jessica Christ, I'm not some pity party (everyone welcome!).

Keating made a fool of me in front of the class today. Will get him later.

Mom got me a deskset again. Same one, in fact. Have been spending my time thinking up sneaky revenge. I could get really fat right before the family portrait is taken. Or borrow her clothing and look better in it. I blame my lisp on her.

Threw my deskset. Hit someone. Ha.

Jane... made a pass at me? Did she really? I think so.

Okay, officially a lesbian. Jane's dad will really get her for this one. Heh. No wonder Knox just wasn't doing it for me. At least he's happy. He's finally got his little asian trophy wife. But she keeps trying to make us go to parties and stuff. Understandably traumatized.

Not sure why people don't hit on Pittsie. She's actually a hot piece of ass when she's not wearing her "nofriendo" shirt.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckcufkuckuf.

This uniform is itchy. And hot. Very hot. I don't get to be sexy and sweaterless like Charlie. Note: stop envying Charlie. Wait. Everyone wants to be Charlie. How did I wind up with the character that we all hate. If I knew me, I wouldn't be friends with myself.

That's a tough scene change. Was trying to unobtrusively slip my shoes on during the memorial service. Not on. So not on that's it's off again. Also, face is blotchy from trying to cry. Didn't quite make it this time, but face is still blotchy.

Oh, Jane. Jane, how I miss you.

Would really like to talk sometimes but am stopped by overwhelming fear of everything. What if they hate me? What if they make fun of me? What if I have last night's salad in my teeth? What if my accent is slightly Anglo-Saxon? Like Keating?

What kind of accent does Keating have? Do Anglo-Saxons have accents? Must look that up.

Keating singles me out a lot. It makes me nervous. And sometimes he grabs me. Possibly sexual harassment? Could I get money for that? Need money for haircut. Hair looks bad with headband. Headband obnoxious. Matches kilt.

Kilt has red in it. Why doesn't sweater?

Nolan's going down. Bitch.

Okay, not a lesbian. Just confused. In love with knowledge.

::Most of this was copied verbatim from the little notebook I wrote in during the play.::

the past is a foreign country

2006-07-06T22:15:00.000-07:00

House Drinking Game:

Drink,

-Every time House pretends he's not feeling guilty/upset/emotional about something.
-Every time House mentions prostitutes.
-Every time they break into someone's house.
-Every time the team does something illegal.
-Every time someone sues or threatens to sue House.
-Every time someone mentions Wilson's wife. (If you ever actually *see* his wife you can just say hell with it and chug the bottle.)
-Every time someone makes a black/ghetto joke around Foreman.
-Every time House is seen bouncing a ball.
-Every time Wilson tells someone that they are going to die. Or their loved one is going to die.
-Every time they prescribe the wrong treatment.
-Every time the patient has a seizure.
-Every time they guess a patient has a tumor.
-Every time House accuses someone of lying.
-Every time House actually visits a patient (take two drinks).
(Okay, there are a lot more, but I'll stop.)

I stayed away from House for many a long month fearing its doctors and diseases and its
-Oh, Doctor? I have a bruise on my leg.
-That's no bruise, that's African Ensyphylitusotus. The "Bleeding" sickness.

But, dear god, even if it is bad for my mental health (I now know that the slight tilt of my head is caused by a brain tumor), I LOVE IT. I fiend it. I go out of my way to catch every rerun and rewatch episodes like they're beloved home videos.
Sure I close my eyes for a good quarter of each episode, but on the whole I'm riveted.

I watch the second season as it re-airs, and I've been marathon-ing the first season with Renee, Jo, and Cameron. We stayed up until five in the morning last night watching it.

And yes, it can be predictable - thus the drinking game. But it's not predictable in an annoying, badly-written way. It's more like the way you can predict the actions of an old friend, and find it endearing.

I don't know how I lived so long a life without having House to fill the holes in my gaping soul.

::they do things differently there::

she's a might whimsical in the brainpan

2006-07-05T00:02:00.000-07:00

Oh, River Phoenix, if you had not killed yourself so young, you would be my love and we would change our names to Rock and Sky and run away into the woods where we'd learn how to sing so that the birds understood and joined in, and our children would be numerous. We would not belong to a cult, like your family, but our friends would come to stay and eat the berries and watch the stars, and late at night you'd tell me your secrets and I'd fix you.

Oh, Stephen Fry, if you were not almost fifty and attracted to men, you would be my love and we would buy a large house in the country with two, no three libraries, and you would read Wilde, Forster, Firbank, Douglas to me before bed and I would make you laugh. Our servants would cook us wild geese and we'd go swimming at midnight in the lake and you would tell me the things about yourself that you don't write down, and it would help.

Oh, Simon Tam, if you were not a fictional character, only alive on TV, you would be my love and we would find a small, deserted moon that we could call our own and we would have a garden where we would grow strawberries and celery and you would end my fear of doctors. Sometimes, when we're sitting alone on our sparkly ship you would tell me about your family and what it was like to grow up and how scared you were without River and I would kiss you until it was okay.

::Earthquakes scare the shit out of me. My honest to God first thought was that a giant was pushing our house. Stupid imagination.::