(no subject)

i've just come back from watching Warren Zevon on Letterman. Warren's the guy responsible for "Werewolves of London" ('aaOOOOOOOOOH!'), "Hasten Down the Wind," "Excitable Boy," "Lawyers, Guns and Money," "Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead," "Mr. Bad Example," and "Mutineer," among other great songs. for those who don't know, he's one of this country's great musical treasures, and he's got terminal lung cancer.

on that issue, he refused to talk glumly, instead offering witticisms and joking around about his impending death, albeit in a harshly ironic tone. well, that's pretty much par for the course with him, but much more harsh and ironic than he usually is anyway.

Dave graciously gave him the whole show, and he did three songs, starting with the haunting yet delicate "Mutineer," then performing "Genius," from his newest (2002) album My Ride's Here (he's still hard at work, bless him), and finishing off with a request from Dave and the gang, doing a thoroughly rousing rendition of the classic fan favourite "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner."

it's enough to make you weep.

everybody needs to go and buy his new album, or at least one of his best-of anthologies. your record collection will be that much poorer if you don't.

enjoy every sandwich, Warren.

(no subject)

Jam Master Jay of Run-DMC shot dead in NYC.

fuck that. omg, fuck that.

my gawd

ast once both religious and heretical, pserv's wonderful and horrific comic-style art will give you great whirlwinds of pleasure of the most devious sort.

go there now.

(no subject)

ugh. hallowe'en, the time of year when i "get" to hang out on the front porch with my grandfather and his dime-store cardboard decorations and electronic noise-making hallowe'en toys while he acts a fool and bangs on an old pot like a true Griswold to get the sound-activated crap to produce bad cacophany. 250mg 5htp needs to kick in NOW. the only thing that redeems this alcohol- and debauchery- free night for me is seeing all the cute little mommies, who are largely around my age.

(no subject)

take the taboo quiz.
and go to mewing.net. nothing is taboo there.
as ever, thanks to wirklichkeit for pointing out cool things.

(no subject)

well, hallowe'en wasn't a TOTAL let down. one really cute thing happened at least. listen (massive parenthetical divergence from the main thing in italics):

the daughter of my mortal enemy (Daisy, this old fat bitch who used to manipulate my grandmother while pretending to be her best friend; also she used to "borrow" (steal) stuff, and on the rare occasion when she'd bring something back, it was on demand (as in, request number two hundred and thirty-five), it was two years too late, it was broken in several places, and it came with a really lame excuse.) ...came by with her daughter's daughter, who's i'd guess around 8 or 10 years old. cute little thing (only her and her sister are the only ones who aren't pig-fat in her family) (i say pig-fat, as opposed to naturally large, big-boned, whatever polite way there is to say someone who's big but SUPPOSED to be; not to be mean, but some people are just fucking hawgs who eat everything in their path, and i'm only talking metaphorically, too. but enough of this bullshit... i'm a big fuckin' fat-ass (tho' getting smaller by the minute, thankfully), so i can call another fat-ass a fat-ass if i want to, especially if they're really just a big goddamn fat-ass.).

anyway, she thrust out her hand with some Sweet-Tarts, proffering them to me for no apparent reason (see below). after a few minutes of convo with her grandmom (i think she's her grandmoms, i don't actually know or care), they were sorta preparing to leave, and she did it again, this time with a big ol' Hershey bar. how sweet! and the way her lil' hand darted out so suddenly was real cute, kooky lil' kid. as they were leaving, she said "bye jeremy!" ...and it hit me. i don't remember ever having really met this little girl or anything, but i guess i must have, probably have... i thought 'maybe it's ha ha ha how cute' as she handed me the second bit of her loot, but it hit me when she said my name: this poor little kid, this sweet little lullaby of a human child is probably going through that funny, sweet phase just prior to adolescence (which leads well into the teens most of the time and even far beyond even that in some cases as i slowly discovered the last two years in someone else), where she has a crush on absolutely every young adult male she comes into contact with, apparently even the jaded older surly bearded cynical weird sad ones.

it almost killed me! hahaha, poor sweet little kid. sometimes i wish kids never had to go through the awesome, horrible trauma of having to grow up at all. some kids should stay sweet and innocent and young forever. also, some kids are just cool little kids. truly terrible to say (and evidence of just what an evil old man i've become), i wouldn't have given this kid the time of day before tonight, being that she's part of a terrible clan i don't like (it's really rare that i'm so sour on anyone, let alone entire families!)... in fact, i've heard tell that those kids are spoiled little brats (her sister is a "model", and you know what that means- a model at the age of 14, i mean- can you say "pushy, overbearing parents"? if so, you can say it again. and of course she's got her little head halfway up her little ass already, thanks to those horrible brutes in her family.), but this one's now cool by me any day.

anyway, i was touched and humbled by an eight year old today. tore me to pieces, in a really nice way.

(no subject)

i just realized that, regardless of my having remembered to write about it on at least one other occasion, i have not yet written about something; perhaps, in the end, the most remarkable and sublime thing that happened to me on my fateful visit to Valparaiso, Indiana.

this girl, this beautiful, tragic young maiden i was there to see... several times, she kissed my hand... and it was the most amazingly romantic and wonderful thing on earth to me. i was so touched; so moved by that, that it would have driven me to ecstatic worshipful tears (satori turned inside out? what is that called? it was as if i had just come to the terrifyingly joyful realization that i had all along been looking into the eyes of an actual angel, wings and all; a bodhisattva standing there before me, putting her hand into my chest as if to say 'see? see this? this i show to you, that you might come to know that you also are ALIVE and adrift among all the celestial spheres and are here with us! all are one, sisya, all are one!'), were it not for the fact that i was too caught up in adoring her myself (puja; my bhakti) to think about anything else.

i remember now that one or two other girls have also done that, and also that one time, a long time ago in a land far away, a young girl literally worshiped at my feet, even kissing them. how intense is that? i am but a toad, yet have felt as Adonis must have felt. surreal, i tell you.

anyways, don't you worry, i'm not thinking about her and haven't really for awhile now; i've only just been watching a cool show on PBS about Suzan-Lori Parks (brilliant playwright, Top Dog Underdog, about two brothers named Booth and Lincoln), and something reminded me of that as i've said sublime moment which i have somehow neglected to mention here.

speaking of plays, i haven't written a play in something like 15 years now. i used to be prolific, ever since fifth grade when i was in the "special" class and we were doing radio-plays. i got bitten by a bug, and continued to write scripts for years after that. most of them were complete trash, but they were usually big hits. the only ones that weren't were the really surreal ones, which weren't total garbage but still garbage. i even once wrote, directed, and starred in the easter play for our church, back when i was a dumb sheep (yet my faith gradually broke within a year or so). by my current standards, it was trash also, but it really went over well and i've often been hailed as some kind of playwright or something only nominally true like that.

i guess, then, that i should commence to writing the play i should have written long ago. well, more. the ones i should have been writing all along, instead of trying to be the next poor-man's Douglas Adams.

fuck, i'll need a laptop. anybody got one for sale - cheap?