A More Interesting Life

I just had a hot, sticky, sweaty (it was frickin' 98 degrees out) midday dream where I was in a sort of virtual reality movie that was weird and kinda dark but so very lovely. I was walking through this sort of shop when the director came into the movie with me. I turned to her and said, "This is one of my favorite things. I love it every time I see it." And then I started crying because I was so glad something so wonderful existed. I then woke up and realized that that movie doesn't exist after all. I got a little sad not only because it doesn't exist but because I sure haven't seen much art lately that's so good it makes me cry, particularly not my own. Art is always so much better in my head.

Just like any other person, I was having a discussion about grammar the other day with a friend of mine. We were talking about grammar pet peeves. One of his was the phrase "whether or not" since you don't need the "or not" part because the word "whether" already implies one thing or another. I recognize that "whether or not" or "whether or no" is also an idiom but it seems like one that's a bit suspect in its grammar. I was in total agreement with him and kept nodding my head while secretly thinking, "I need to remember to stop saying that." That brings to mind a little game that I think of just about every time I see or hear the words "weather" or "whether." And here it is:

What's the phrase shown below?

wheather

And then that puzzle brings to mind this one, again with the same question:

What's the phrase shown below?

ualls
now

I'm pretty sure I couldn't figure these out when I first read them and just looked at the answers. Of course, it didn't help that the answers were on the opposite page. Out of the four people who might be reading this (Ida, Laugher, Caustic and maybe Liz) I bet one of them even knows where I first encountered those puzzles. And she's probably annoyed that I, and not she, has the book.

And now I should clean my room. A task I am doing my best to put off as I'm already literally dripping sweat and all I've been doing is sitting on the couch. But I just realized that I can listen to wait wait...don't tell me! while I clean and that makes things much more fun. Better than a spoonful of sugar. I already have two rotten teeth.

Euphatastic

Frontbottom*

A friend of mine told me that one. It's now one of my favorites. Try it out, it's pretty fun to say. And almost disgustingly explicit in the image it brings.

*bagina

Criminals Represent!

I keep seeing those annoying True ads on myspace (and those more annoying gay.com and manhunt ads) so I finally clicked on one. I mean, maybe I really will meet some guy I can spray with a garden hose while we're in our underwear out in some public garden where everyone can see us. Doesn't that sound dreamy? We'll be every so happy. It's worth a shot.

One week free! Okay.

Disclaimer:

If you're a convicted criminal and True finds out that you still registered they can just boot you out leaving you emotionally distraught and of course, alone. That certainly doesn't seem fair. I mean, it also says that you can't be married and representing yourself as single and I'll go with that. But come on, criminals need love too. I mean, maybe they were convicted of like, selling drugs or something and I actually want to meet them, cause you know, I need a hook up (in so many ways).

In the end, I didn't sign up. Besides, that username you have to choose sticks with you forever; that's a lot of pressure.

Miss Hannigan

Is your bladder ever so full and you have to go to the bathroom so bad that your teeth start to tingle? No? Are you sure? It's just me?

And if you figure out the sloppy link between the title of this post and the body I'll, I dunno, give you a piece of chocolate?

Or if you come up with a pretty good one that wasn't what I was thinking I'll give you a piece of better chocolate.

on second thought

I'm on my coworker's computer right now. I noticed a previous wait list Word document from March on the desktop and wondered if I had been the one who saved it. So I opened it up, looked at the names and thought, "Is that my handwriting?"

Oh dear

Bored at home the other day I excitedly thought, "I know what I'll do! I'll continue reading Atlas Shrugged because I'm really getting into it and it makes me mad about injustice and stuff even though I'm not really sure what sort of injustice I'm mad about but that's what's making it great plus Ayn Rand is smart and I need to be doing something that makes me feel in some way attached to intelligence." But then I thought, "Wait a second, I have the entire show tonight to read, I should really watch TV now. I mean, I can read any old time, books are portable, but I can only watch television at home." I see where my priorities are beginning to lie. So much for being smart.

Existential (I learned that in 9th grade)

On the train ride home the other night I was once again listening to Henryk Gorecki's Symphony No. 3 (thank you Marianna). His music is freakin' beautiful man. It makes me feel like I'm in a transdimensional train that I have to keep riding until I reach some sort of personal epiphany revealing the true depth of my soul and the other riders each carry a unique message to help me along the way ("I fucked that bitch" or "You're all sinners. You're all gonna die.") except for I finally realize that I'm really already dead and drifting through my own version of the afterlife and oh my god, I'm at 181st street already, I need to get off. I guess it was just the New York subway after all. But that's how that CD makes me feel.

In other great artist news Francois Ozon is now officially one of my favourite (spelled the European way, ooh la la) directors. It seems like every project he works on is fantastic. The things I've seen of his I've either loved or at least very much enjoyed. After watching one of his films yesterday I started wondering if Ozon was gay because the boys in his films are always hot but then I remembered that the women he uses are also hot so maybe he just really likes attractive people. He's pretty good looking himself. They're also all European. I'm just saying.

Failed with an F

A woman just came to my window and asked me where they should go for rehearsals. I was about to ask her what rehearsals she was referring to until I noticed Sting standing behind her. Yes, the artist Sting. There's a benefit tonight at the theater in which Sting and his "beautiful wife" (that's taken directly from an ad I've seen) are performing. Now, I'm not usually one to much care about someone else's fame but come on, Sting? That's pretty great. I calmly informed the woman where she could enter the theater and they promptly left. When they walked out the door I realized I was pretty giddy and that I had also missed an opportunity to do...something. That's probably why I missed it, I couldn't think of anything to do, I still can't. Who was that woman anyway? His beautiful wife? She was indeed pretty.

Books=Love

"You read books to escape from life." This was said to me one day in a semi-accusatory fashion. I was arguing the opinion that many gay men (but this applies to everyone, it's just that we were discussing gay men) constantly go to clubs to relieve their minds from thought, to flee reality. My friend had that quote as a retort. He declared that I used reading as a way to avoid social interaction. That's true. But as I was waiting for the train last night I realized that in a lot of ways books are much better than people. I'm not necessarily avoiding people, I'm just choosing the more interesting of the two options. I've read a lot of books I like and some I think highly enough of to actually own and plan on keeping for the rest of my life. There aren't many people I can say that about. It's not that I dislike people, I like my friends, I like my family, it's just that books often offer so much more than the random human exchange. A good book is a much better friend than some person I might talk to at a bar. A book absorbs you into its world, a world of insight, subtly and profound thought. A world of humor and fantasy. It's all in your hand and you can adapt it to youself. Some people I know will just never understand me, we get along fine but we lack that easy exchange that signifies a lasting friendship. If I'm not interested in a book it goes back on the shelf, no hesitations, people on the other hand don't like it when you just walk away from them. Maybe I'll change my mind when everyone starts wearing dust jackets. Trend setting.

Apology

To everyone: I've taken everything out of my past blogs that I viewed as being extra mean. Someone recently pointed out to me what a complete bastard I was in college and I have to say that he was right. I really was a bastard. So I've taken out everything I regret putting in (unless it had to do with my sisters, they deserve everything they get). I've still left some snotty snot comments but really all I'm mostly doing is complaining and saying that I don't like people plus those blogs also contain info about my college life that will be interesting in a few years to go back and read and say, "Woah."
Besides which this blog is mostly for me anyway so I can go back and view what kind of person I use to be and how I thought.

Comeuppance

As my boss says, "They'll have their own personal place in hell."

Fun Times

I was playing the concertina and missed hearing the phone ring! Twice! That makes me pretty darn happy.

D.A.B

I want to be a bun-head
and wear pointe shoes
I want to be a bun-head
gonna pay my dues
Plie, tendu, jete, battement
fouette, fouette, fouette, fouette

This is a good little song to sing to yourself when you get stuck walking behind some dumbass ballerinas. It helps keep you from yelling at them.

When Ida first sang me this song she order it: tendu, plie, jete, battement. I pointed out to her and plie should really be first because then the song would follow the order of a ballet class. She agreed but now she can't ever remember which one comes first. Happy Birthday.

Seemed like a good idea

Even if it seems like a good idea to eat part of a donut at 2:30 in the morning right before you go to bed DON'T. You'll wake up with nasty mouth, a disgusting disease that can plague even the best of us. Also, don't smoke cigarettes at 2 either. Even if you eat an entire apple afterward you'll still smell like smoke. AND if you've recently had bronchitis you'll also be coughing up crap the next morning. And don't read a book that doesn't seem to be going anywhere about some guy who's losing his mind while you're freezing under your blankets and the roof's about to cave in from the weather.

Bored

I don't much care for gay.com for a variety of reasons. A) #1 it's lame. B) #2 the chat function doesn't work on Gillian's computer. C) #3 I don't need lots of ads featuring beautiful men in skimply clothing staring at me all the time making me feel awful about my body. D) #4 It may have some pertinent information about current gay issues but they're so drenched in crappy gay gay gay crap that I don't have the patience to try to find them.

And no you stupid lady, I won't make an exception. I don't care if you've been subscriber for the past two years, you missed the deadline by a month. And don't give me that "well, really only 27 days" crap, that's close enough to a month. And why should I make an exception for you when you got your tickets months ago and are only calling with your question now? And if I give you the free ticket shouldn't I really give one to everyone else too? Why don't we just make everything free? Stupid lady.

Maybe not that funny

So I've started up my blog again despite having talked with Erin about how kind of embarrassing it is to post my personal thoughts where everyone can read them. I still think that's true but I did enjoy looking back at my previous entries because they made me think, "Hey, I'm a funny guy. And if no one else thinks so then at least I'll be able to read this in a year and make myself laugh." Unfortunately I'm no longer involved with stupid ballerinas and other such dumbasses where they offer a multitude of things to make fun of. That's not to say I'm no longer involved with stupid people, these people are just only stupid and will be hard to make fun of especially because they're continually stupid in the same way. But I'll do my best.

Do you think it's lame to not go out for a drink because your throat hurts and you might be getting sick and instead go home and eat a bunch of brownie batter while watching episodes of Futurama that you've already seen? I can't decide. That's either lame or great. I think when I do it it's lame but if someone else told me that that's how they spent their Friday night I would love them for it. Probably because it would validate my Friday night.

Speaking of which, on to the brownie batter. It's been callin' me.

Transparent

I had a dream the other night that humanity was suddenly divided into different castes and of course I was at the complete bottom. The lowest people were believed to be germ ridden and were the work force of the planet. We all lived in these huge apartment buildings and had to be inspected before we were allowed in. It was really depressing and upsetting but also interesting. We weren't allowed to own money either. Instead we had these cards that had "money" programmed into them, sort of, that we had to use to buy things. These cards only allowed us to buy things from vending machines, we couldn't ever buy anything nice. Some people were trying to start protests but there were only about twenty of them in the whole city, which was a mix between Paris and Seattle. Plus, those protestors were beaten all the time. So even though the work force was much bigger than the upper classes (about 10 to 1) we wouldn't do anything to try to get out of our situation. This pretty much sounds like any 1984 Anthem Metropolis movie but we were in color.
Then the dream suddenly changed and I had sex with this really really really cute guy.

"Look at me! I'm a stupid baby! I roll around and lead with my head and never get hurt because I'm super flexible and have plenty of fat."
Stupid babies and their perfect alignment. Hmph.

sigh and yawn
How many times do I have to write about my aesthetics? I mean, sure I like talking about them, usually, but when I have to write about them it often turns into a rant about how much I hate Utah and how I'm frustrated by my schooling. This doesn't go over so well when I'm writing for one of my teachers. For part of this assignment I have to write 5 artistic beliefs and 5 things I artistically do not believe in. I do not believe in god, artistically of course. Can I get away with that? So here are some of the things that I'd like to write but probably won't (well, maybe just a few).

I do not believe:
-ballet has any artistic value
-everyone has a valid opinion
-anyone should have a post-show discussion (especially idiots)

I do believe:
-having a small number of male dancers is a very bad thing. Not because I think more people should dance but because the ratio of good dancers to mediocre is like 1 to like, you know six or so. So for every one good female dancer there are six boring ones which isn't too bad since there are a lot of them. But when there's only one good male dancer there are six more out there who aren't so good. Now let's say that the number of really good male dancers in the USA is 1000 (that's probably a little small but my opinion of what's good is pretty limited). That's means there are 6000 dopes trying to get into dance companies or worse yet choreographing on their own. That's a whole lot of bad dance. So how often are you going to see a great male dancer?
-choreographers should have someone besides their best friend watch their piece before showing it to the public
-contact improv jams are stupid (c'mon, they're called "jams" ooh, we are so cool)
-dance should never be associated with "our lord Jesus Christ"
-people should shut the fuck up

Fuckin' "Artists"
oh angry angry