hint

any clues?

either it's easy, or it's impossible

Once, in a fit of over-researched hyperbolic self-diagnosis, I came across a discussion of The Great Creative Minds Throughout History that allowed as how the /real/ geniuses were all completely manic-depressive, going through fits of explosive creativity (your typical Romantic heroes) where they'd write, like, eighteen symphonies in a month, and then be depressed and adulterous and mostly hermetic (though, how those last two coincide was an interesting thing to puzzle through) for another nine years before it happened again.

The thing that separated these guys from all the /other/ sad souls who couldn't keep steady was that, while in a quiet period, they'd study. They'd spend all the boring, unable-to-create chunks doing /lots/ of not creative stuff.

Last night I read the first five chapters of a book called How Indie Rock Saved My Life, another two of Clown Girl (more on that eventually, I'm sure), recorded another song, watched two amazing documentaries (thank you Dominic/Netflix), three episodes of Law & Order (strangely a propos), The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and a Town Hall debate on gay rights that happened in March (and, actually, that I've watched before) and it really felt like a good day, and there should probably be stuff churning in my brain, but the only thing that stuck, and drifted around while I slept for, what, three hours?, and has persisted through the day is, "Wow, that space is huge, isn't it?"

So I guess I'm going back to excess and abstinance and a better piece of advice I know, for everything, really, which is:

When ever you have the chance to watch someone who's really good at what he does, do it. No questions asked. (Especially if he's a friend of mine, and the space is huge.)

corollary:
Sometimes a good distraction is the sweetest cure.

miss you, Marms

catching up

What's the difference between a good idea that no one understands, and, just, a bad idea?

one way or another

I've often wondered whether there aren't parts of my "personality" that are put on (wow—that's not the phrase, but my mind just went completely morning blank), though I won't admit it, or maybe, that were at one point, but have now been deeply internalized, but, really? This is the second girl I've heard about who wouldn't go see the new Bond movie with her boy. Really? I mean, who doesn't like James Bond? (Especially this one, I might add.)

another call for help

So, this, um, friend of mine... thinks she wants to make a documentary. I'd like to give her a few for Christmas, sort of as inspiration. I think I've got all the obvious ones covered (Sherman's March, Wordplay, probably Spellbound—stuff that I like that's still nice and accessible to a 19-year-old who listens to Limp Bizkit—and a copy of my friend's piece about his family), but I'd like something nice and rough, and maybe something I haven't seen yet (read: this will give me stuff to watch from now until then...)

Maybe a subscription to Wholphin? Does that count?

ha!

after several days, several attempts to "contact blogger support", and roughly a thousand SPAM filter discussions, I now have access to my blog. Meanwhile, Thanksgiving looked much like this:



(well, that plus me and Dad "sight reading" The Entertainer—Dad on the left, me on the right, Mom waiting patiently for pie in the kitchen...)

thanks, guys

Fun party. Anyone seen my glasses?

maybe actually worth it

me (to the salesperson at the cell phone kiosk at the mall, barely coherent, trying half-heartedly to claim that the "liquid damage" (caused by a nose dive, either into a pitcher of cosmopolitans, or a post-brownie-batter bowl of water) should be covered by the warranty): Really? Rain could cause that? They're not built to withstand a certain amount?

salesperson: Well ... really? It's kind of like Fetal Alcohol Syndrome—you don't /really/ know how much damage it'll do, but it's probably not a good idea anyway.

just sayin'

I sang a song this morning—a song that used to make me cry—and I couldn't quite remember what it was about.

I guess that's good, right?

projects for Dec/Jan

VHS to DVD transfer of old home movies.

supplies needed: an old couch to cart upstairs; some fancy popcorn seasoning. Also, fun ideas for packaging/creative chapter-splicing.

Mini-disc to MP3 transfer of old interviews.

supplies needed: Tyson; some software he'll kindly and patiently explain

Katie's first real stab at portraiture.

supplies needed: I'm thinking of commissioning a custom backdrop; maybe some new soft boxes; willing subjects?

Cataloging.

books; photos; projects; possibly "collage materials"

Those big acrylic boxes I keep planning as furniture/curio displays.

probably some new Melmac; also, hot glue

a friend of mine once said

(in a dark moment), "She only likes me because I'm nice to her."

It's not that I don't understand girls liking bad guys. And it's certainly not like I don't understand the few who become that exception. I guess, when he said that, I never thought I might empathize. I've never considered myself a nice enough person that I might be in danger of such a predicament.

The point is, how does this happen? And what do we do about it? I like nice guys...

is this too early?

Does it even matter? I suppose, since there's an eVite that I'm not responsible for, I feel compelled to announce (albeit quietly, and to the three people I've invited already):

There's a party happening at my house this weekend. I think it would be particularly special if someone I wasn't expecting showed up. It's not for me, it's for my friend Mary, whose birthday is on Tuesday. So I will do nothing but stand around in a smashing outfit (to be determined) and drink delicately, while some random people I've never met parade in and out of my poor little kitchen. I think maybe I'll make brownies, too.

So, yeah. That's it. It'd be nice to have company at the first party in a while where I won't feel compelled to entertain people.

thanks!

check out the drummer

words

Does it make sense to say that something feels like "a tedious novelty"? And does that necessarily imply that it's overused or cliched in some way? Or that the term embodies dueling perspectives? Or can something feel that way inherently, and independently?

more kitties!

(here)

another list, partially eaten

To be witness to your life.

(triangulation?)

To help, or, to be the one to help.

"That there's nothing to be done, nothing to be said, and still we must speak."

"But isn't that impulse to share inherently selfish?"

"But you saw me yesterday, right? ... Tell him only that you saw us."

things to write about

DIY for thirty-year-olds

staff vs. freelance

here and gone (and, oh, how tiresome)

Context and Summer Camp (:the Bonding Retreats of My Childhood)

pinball (obviously)

Why All the Men in My Life are Searching for Manhood

oh, and birthdays.

oh, right...

so very 'very'

I think maybe the problem with explaining things is, doesn't that make you feel like they're "just ____"?

bar tact

How do you tell someone his ego is unbecoming?

Especially when 'ego' in that sentence might easily be replaced with "bravado masking total lack of self-respect".

Or, is the answer just, "Speaking of egos, what makes you think something you say to a guy in a bar will actual have an impact?"

oh, also

three things

A boy once told me I was "like ether". I think it was supposed to be a comliment, but I took it to mean "stupid and confusing, though highly addictive".

Why do some mysteries make you want more, and some make you just enjoy a mystery?

party music (please help)

Lilly Allen
Hot Chip
Speaker Speaker
Aqueduct
The Thermals
The Pixies
The Cops
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
!!! (?)

sometimes I love a blog

"### ############ already sound like a band our kids are going to make fun of. It’s all so very “oh-so” and plaid and Tudor and Caucasian and you have to wear glasses when you listen to them and the only sex to be had in their music is brain, not body, based. Light it on fire.

#### is throwaway, schticky pap. Which is fine if that’s what we say it is: Best Record to Throw in the Trash After You Played it At A Dowdy House Party and Everybody Took Off Their Shirts and Bras But In the End They All Just Wound Up Feeling As Empty As This Music Sounds"