| Who said I didn't have a plan? |
[30 Apr 2008|05:00pm] |
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mood |
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I'm going to walk the goddamned streets, clad in army boots, leather opera gloves and a cheap machete, and I shall take over this sordid world single-handedly!
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| A Directive |
[30 Jun 2007|07:04pm] |
Dearest Comrades,
Henceforth this journal will be Friends Only. I am loathe to do so, however, for my own personal reasons I feel that this is the best course. I gave up my chances of internet stardom long ago... at least stardom through this medium, anyway. Allow me to pause for a moment to laugh hysterically.
Laughs hysterically.
If you have been lurking, have a livejournal and just cannot simply bear the thought of going another day without reading my life chronicle and study in profound nonsense, leave me a comment. That is no guarantee that you will be added, please note.
In the immortal words of Edward R. Murrow... good night, and good luck.
Sarah
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| It's nature versus... legislature.... |
[29 Jun 2007|07:33pm] |
A little Roy Zimmerman for you fine people... "Defenders of Marriage"
Check out his other stuff here. I am officially in love. Also reccomended: "Dick Cheney" and "Jerry Falwell's God".
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| Zhertva televedeniya |
[28 Jun 2007|02:58pm] |
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music |
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Vladimir Vissotsky: Zhertva televedeniya |
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("Victim of Television" - Vladimir Vissotsky trans. Adrian J. Erlinger)
Here is the television – a loudspeaker and,
An orator, who spreads it for miles!
It's not a window, (I won't even spit into a window)
It has opened up all of the world's doors.
Everybody's at home – at full attention:
Vacation in the Crimea, hurricanes and Kobzon,
Film, part seven – they eat it all up:
But I didn't even see parts one through six.
I turn on Channel 1 – and they are diving –
Well, it's okay, from twenty meters.
"Look at those girls!" – they are performing!
All of ‘em in aprons, you could lose your mind!
We have television – my apartment now seems bigger,
I'm grieving at all the world's problems,
I am breathing the air of the entire world,
I see Nixon with his First Lady.
Imagine that! Foreign leaders in front of you–
Eye to eye, head to head
Propped up by a footstool, my TV set.
I have witnessed their important tЙte-Ю-tЙte.
Then – shock workers at the bread factory,
Talk about baking until ten o'clock.
My wife says "Oh look at those guys!"
Shooting, jumping, you could lose your mind!
If you aren't watching – then you are not a fool,
You're probably just living in a cave:
And you don't know where they find talent,
You don't know who is gifted!
How can I convince my stubborn Nastya?!
She wants to go to the movies when it's Saturday.
She says that I too have fallen for
That stupid box for idiots.
Yes, I too am addicted – I come home,
And here is Nixon and Georges Pompidou!
It's all right – I grabbed a bottle –
I took a shot for Georges, but not one for Richard.
But reality is even more of a nightmare –
I turn on Channel 4 and go to the balcony:
"Look at those girls!" "Look at those guys!"
They are giving prizes out in the UN!
...Then, at the Kanatchikov Mental Hospital,
Where unfortunately that intrusive service is,
In a haze, I saw the whole broadcast,
The whole show was about Angela Davis.
I hear: don't cry, everything's okay in the taiga,
USSR won the game against West Germany,
They arrested a hundred of those scoundrels,
And Magomaev sings on KVN.
But reality is still so elegant and chic -
Two televisions – turn and twirl:
"Look at those guys!" "Look at those girls!"
I'm not afraid to lose my mind!
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[27 Jun 2007|10:18pm] |
My nearly brother-in-law let me play around with his machete:
I rather enjoyed it.
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| Well well! |
[26 Jun 2007|11:24pm] |
Don't I make a darling messiah?
(A plastic crown of thorns from Krys' Jesus costume. It suits me admirably. Plus, it really hurts!)
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[24 Jun 2007|07:16pm] |
Happy Spheres of Influence Day. Whip out your AK-47s, nuclear missles and cake knives. The first two are for killing everybody. The third for dividing territory of course, silly.
I had a dream that I was walking about in a windy botanical garden when I felt something clasp onto my back. At first I thought it was a very stubborn plant and tried to cut it off. But as hard as I struggled it wouldn't release me. Somehow I decided that if I jumped into the pond, it would loosen. I did so, looked back... and it was a duck. A duck of all things! A very large duck. The way it turned its head to look at me was astonishingly beautiful. Still, I was not desirous of having the creature attatched to me, yet had to awaken from the dream before it would let go.
Other than that, I'm feeling not at all a cheerful ray of sunshine. Am feeling instead constantly sleepy and not quite up to par. Who cares?! I don't!
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| "Patience is a virtue, young lady!" |
[23 Jun 2007|05:34pm] |
I declare today Disputed Territory Day
Tomorrow is Spheres of Influence Day
(I thought I'd give you some time to think it over...)
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[20 Jun 2007|07:37pm] |
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Today was perhaps one of the most pointless, wasted days in the entirety of my existence and should not be accounted for in my life's chronicle. But I do it anyway. So there it is. And sad for days of far more interest have gone unwritten.
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| Dream Within A Dream |
[19 Jun 2007|03:50pm] |
Time for Random Poem I've Recently Come To Adore(tm)!
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-- Edgar Allan Poe
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[18 Jun 2007|03:26pm] |
Left the other day, "the other day" being Russell's 21st which, after a game of minature golf (where it seemed I kicked everyone's ass, but managed to place last nevertheless), we celebrated in the traditional manner. Tried Sake and Plum Wine. Suited me well enough, though Plum Wine is a little too sweet for my tastes.
The mother has journeyed out to purchase new air conditioners. I genuflect before her and the nonexistentgodproxy, as this Apple has very little tolerance for heat, and fans are a great joke - ha ha, he he.
Must hop to practical matters anon.
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[15 Jun 2007|10:25pm] |
A nice, quiet day in the Martinez household. Concessions of a Serial Campaigner arrived in the mail today. The trouble with me is that whenever I receive a new book, I immediately want to put down the book I'm currently reading in favor of the new one. As of now I'm reading Ines of My Soul, by Isabel Allende. Well, the political trash can wait. A good, rich story is what should be consuming me now and Isabel Allende caters to that craving quite well.
One day I will, I swear to you, have the supreme honor of fainting before the Chilean Goddess of Prose. Anything I can write is mere shit in comparison. She would spit upon it, and the word "atrocity" would burn itself into the looseleaf page of twaddle in illegible cursive.
See? I hold no pretentions. At least, not in that respect.
Felicia begins her new job in the morrow. Waves of good luck and support in her direction if you will, ladies and gentlemen!
With that in mind I myself should delve once again into the mysteries of productivity. Or I can lose myself in my stack of books, my music and the twenty dollars that currently resides alone in my bank account with little company for consolation.
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[14 Jun 2007|10:04pm] |
I don't get it.
I mean, I don't pour my Listerine into a glass before I pour it into my mouth snd swish euphorically.
I swig it from the bottle and swish euphorically. I'm so fucking jaunty.
In any event, Listerine would have the kind sirs and ma'ams of the world to do otherwise. If commercials are to be our guide for social guidance...
I don't like it.
I'm not going to listen to you, Listerine.
But I'm going to keep swishing with you, Listerine. I like your name. Listerinnnnnnneeee. I like how you burn.
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[13 Jun 2007|12:57am] |
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music |
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Motherland Remix |
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Now what would cheer me up?
(eee... eee eee oh oh oh)
There is only one thing that can do so.
(eee eee oh oh, oh!)
North Korean patriotic music!
I recently downloaded an album entitled "Radio Pyongyang: Commie Funk and Agit Pop from the Hermit Kingdom".
Each track is an audio collage of assorted tunes and announcements gleamed off of North Korean radio using various methods by a man residing in Hong Kong. The tracklist:
1. Motherland Remix
2. New Model Army
3. Numbers Game (this is of particular interest, as it begins with a reading of number codes meant for spies abroad)
4. Pride of the Nation
5. Start 'em Young (performances by the ubiquitous mechanical children(tm))
6. Arirang
7. Commie Funk? (catchy!)
8. Motherland Redux
I must confess a fascination with North Korean music. It keeps very much to tradition, albeit imbued, drenched and any other word one can use for "totally saturated" with blind patriotism and love for the leader. Not only that, I find it often very beautiful.
This music simply begs to be sung along to. However, lacking knowledge of Korean and being difficult to imitate from a few listenings, I resort to the following as it is more often than not on the spot. One need only do this (keep to a nice, bright tone and endeavor to keep your mouth wide open. Remember, your love for the dear leader and the great Juche idea is so INTENSE that you can barely keep it closed).
*ahem*
Laaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh ah ah Kim Jong-Il.... Kim Jong-Il la laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ah ah Kim Jong-Il.... Kim Jong-Il la ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Kim Jong-Il la la la la. La la la la ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh etc.
This works for most anything and is easily modified for jaunty military marches and sentimental ballads.
If your curiosity is at all piqued, I direct you to this radio broadcast done on location by the BBC a few years ago, featuring some excellent performances, anecdotes and a glimpse of local color.
Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ah ah Kim Jong-Il... Kim Jong-Il la laaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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| Bleeding hearts? Try the bleeding-vag-girl. |
[12 Jun 2007|09:55pm] |
1. According to the tracking site, FedEx has delivered my package to our front door. Yet there is no package at my front door. Isn't that weird? When I called to inquire after this curious incongruency, I was told that the sender had requested confirmation and that a second attempt would be made tomorrow. Very very odd, for not only had I NOT heard anyone knock (we were home all day), the tracking site would lead one to believe that none was, indeed, required and so, logically, this is most illogical. Will nevertheless keep a close eye put for said FedEx herald of Satan in the meantime.
2. I find that Cosmic Law still rules earthly petty phenomena when I find that the post office has delivered one of the used books I had ordered (The Flaneur in case you are really the sort who takes a genuine interest in what I am reading and will be reading and might be reading and so on and so forth, ad infinitum). At least that's something. Yesterday I ordered one more: A Night at the Opera: An Irreverent Guide to the Plots, The Singers, The Composers, The Recordings which promises to keep me very entertained.
3. Started my period. Rather unusual cramping in that I actually experienced some of note. Felt like uterus was placed into a vice and that didn't feel too pleasant, I must say. Am better now.
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[12 Jun 2007|12:07am] |
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Bargain-basement idol
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| My Reason |
[11 Jun 2007|05:57am] |
La la la la la.
la la la.
la la la la la.
la la la.
la la la la la la la
la la la.
---
(Very very good work!)
---
(How 'bout this?)
---
la la la la la.
la la la.
La la la la la.
la la la.
la la la la la.
la la la.
la la la la la la la.
la la la.
---
In other news... Rudolph fucking Valentino
Sigh...
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[09 Jun 2007|01:53am] |
1. Went to the store. Walked back home. Nobody followed me and I saw nothing of interest. Only older men buying their Friday booze and menthols.
2. I've ordered three books: Age of Propaganda: The Everyday Use and Abuse of Persuasion, No Excuses: Concessions of a Serial Campaigner (for the purposes of making myself still more disillusioned and cynical about the political process) and The Flaneur: A Stroll Through the Parodoxes of Paris (something I aspire to be)...
Good old Visa card.
Perhaps I should buy more things.
3. Paged through a journal I kept Sophomore year of high school. I must have used the word "boredom" in every entry. Journals have never been a repository of eloquence for me. Instead, they are trashbin for the same old same old childish crap I regurgitate on a regular basis (much like this livejournal, only worse).
On the very last page I had noted down quotes from Hermann Hesse's Demian (the only inspired words in that particular volume of my life's chronicle):
When we hate a person, what we hate in his image is something inside ourselves. Whatever isn't inside us can't excite us.
A person is afraid only when he isn't at one with himself. They're afraid because they have never accepted themselves.
The world, as it now is, wants to die, it wants to perish, and it will.
A list of grades for one semester:
Biology: B
English Humanities: B+
German: A+
Concert Choir: A
Economics: B
Math: B- (Now how did I manage that?)
and a dialogue, spoken by a pair of annoyances I used to eat lunch with that year:
Jennifer: Look, Tom, its your girlfriend!
*you're a giggly bitch look from me*
Jennifer: He was telling us how much he loooooooooovvvvvvvvves you.
Other kid: Yeah, and all the things he'd like to do to you!
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[08 Jun 2007|01:34pm] |
It's raining out of doors as I sit in my little beat-up executive chair in my little house in Dearborn. The mom is napping in her little bed. Felicia is at her modeling shoot. The cats are doing what cats normally do. There are fans whirring... other than that...
Yesterday, and into the morning, I had this enormous crying spell. It seemed like everything was a potential catalyst for my hormonal saline fountain. Hormones and, as my mom pointed out, the twisted sleep schedule I have subjected myself as of late. "You're overtired." Likely. Tried to sleep and couldn't relax. Had mother give me pill with sedative properties. Fell asleep, didn't dream. And I have awoken groggy, plotting my next move as I hack the crust off of my eyes and sip at my cranberry juice. How often do I drink this cranberry juice! My urinary tract must be in heaven. I'll be pissing champagne by week's end.
In other news: the counter-revolution is over. I am a traitor. I have sullied myself, defiled my spirit, raped the very core of my being. I hang up my hat and cut up my official membership card. Yes, I have ordered a cellphone, which will be arriving in a few days. And since I lost the little pill the organization gave me to off myself in the event that I did so, I will simply have to use it. Let me know if you want the fucking number.
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| Fucking Beauty! Part II |
[05 Jun 2007|10:14pm] |
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Goddamn motherfucking pissant shitfaced sonuvabitch cocksucking world with the rusty cunt and gaping asshole.
DIE BITCHES DIE.
I will attempt to calm my hormone-induced homicidal state by partaking in the consumption of rice krispie treats (because rice krispie treats sound like a helluva good idea right now) and viewing number one billion of Clerks II.
Just thought you should know.
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applemadness's journal