[A repost - 'cause my PC has recently shown signs of having been re-haunted...]
At times, I reflect in astonishment that I have been able to not only create but also to maintain a fairly functional web site for over a year now all by myself - 'high tech fun' is not a way of life I espouse, exactly. I mean, I live for the day when I can install "clap on, clap off" technology in every corner of this house, and have my perky resident Geek Laureate attend to my every gadget need & whim.
So when either collectively or individually my ISP, or MSN, or FTP, or LAN, or FPC ('Fucking Personal Computer' - new one, pass it on...) start misbehaving unilaterally, my carefully cultivated chaudfroid evaporates instantaneously. Subsequent visions of impending wrangles with Blame-The-Victim Support Personnel further raise the blood pressure...perhaps GW would be wise to enlist some of Bill Gates' finest - those trolls could wear anybody down. Worst of all, my usual panacea for Life's Problems - pot - is singularly unsuited to the task of exorcising computer demons (try re-installing a video card driver when you're fried some time. Actually - don't.)
So if you, like me, have had to deal with more than your fair share of tech terror recently, perhaps keeping these thoughts in mind will help ::
:: Understand that your Address Book is simply going through a phase - take a deep breath and tell yourself that, just as all 700 of your IM & email contacts from all regions of the planet suddenly disappeared, so shall they re-appear. Otherwise - I'm suing.
:: You have an operable stereo system - so who really needs a vast number mp3's/wma's/wav's, anyways? - well, fuck, I do - ever since I ripped everything I have to disk, and smugly dispensed with my CD collection altogether.
:: PC's have very few moving parts - so they hardly ever actually 'break' - Bullshit.
:: Customer Satisfaction is a priority of most ISP's, and, although they may not he able to attend to your little problem immediately, they WILL get to it eventually - Bullshit, encore. For the record - how exactly does one start a boycott, anyways?
:: No one will notice a few small glitches on your page - Uh huh. And I'm Maria Von Trapp.
:: There's always dial-up - Last time I checked, carrier pidgeons were faster ("you need to fly this jpeg to Donnie in DC immediately - lose it & you can kiss that bag of sunflower seeds goodbye, Tweety")
:: You can always simply re-install everything.... - Since I don't exactly recall installing everything in the first place, I'd rather not risk the aneurism, thank you very much.
:: You can always ask a friend to help... - They're all either in rehab or bad relationships or prison.
The last time I had a tech tantrum, I threw my cell phone into the Pacific Ocean....too bad this PC is so heavy.
There's such a thing as 'too cool': a condition when one's image has a bigger G.N.P. than that of one's ego. In practical terms, it usually means everyone talks about you, without ever really talking to you, even though they maybe right beside you. And while the rest of the world may find Famine in Rwanda or Satanic Muslim Tendencies to be issues more worthy as causes for mass anxiety, Toronto - a city which combines surpsingly narrow sidewalks with a 'get-out-the-way-bitch' ethos - finds itself, finally, having to come to grips with it's 'too cool' problem - people, you see, are beginning to stayathome...
You know you're too cool if ::
:: You feel genuinely bad for those who haven't experienced you - yet. :: Everyone knows 'what you do' - but no-one knows what your job actually is. :: You start saying things like - "I don't really shop - these clothes...oh, I dunno...just seem to find me" :: You involuntarily wince whenever someone else says something obvious. And e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-'s obvious. :: You deny having any awareness, whatsoever, of the possible irony in your general demeanor - every though you're positively reeking of it. :: You never seem to pay for anything. :: There is no New Black - cause you've been into prints, like, forever. :: Once is never enough - but you never go back. :: Others are usually written off via the softly muttered phrase "so - last - year".
To misquote Ms. Simon - you're also too cool if you think this post is about you...
Tuesday, October 21
Never been much of a fan of Halloween: it's always seemed to me either a poor excuse for jocks to dive pec-first into drag, or an even poorer excuse for our straight sisters to misapply push-up bras ("I'd only ever wear this tonight, I swear..."). Sailors, nurses, cavemen, diva's with enormous hair.....a bit too much generic fetish, and not nearly enough venomous camp.
Obnoxious get-up ideas ::
John Ritter - tell everyone that you're dead; when they ask, "how can you tell?", reply with "exactly".
Rape Case Archie Comic Veronica - only if you're a guy; don't shave your legs; mutter continually, "I didn't resist, I didn't resist...
Pedophile Priest - just dress-up like, well, a man of the cloth - but carry a DVcam & some candy & wear one of those "Hi - my name is [Father Jerome] and I'm looking for [chicken]" stickers........ I'm goin' right up to St. Andrew's Fucking Cathedral in that one, ladies...
Winona - Just look FFFFABULOUS while clutching a fistful of price tags; ask for "discounts" instead of "treats". And walk around with some schleppy male friend - he'll be Mark Jacobs.
Blind Date - Just look FFFFABULOUS. Except - you'll need to keep your eyes closed, steal one of those canes, and walk into oncoming traffic a few times for effect.
The Ramada Sisters - A take-off on those other two - since I bet every proto-ho this side of the health clinic will be sporting that look - just look cheap & fat & disgusting. Offer passers-by free coffee & danish, if you wish.
Rush Limbaugh & his maid - Pretty self-explanatory; he'll have a shopping bag of empty oxycondin bottles and stains on his tie - while she'll wear an over-sized green card around her neck, proudly.
Plastic Surgery Disaster Cher - Someone always does Cher on Halloween; so get the wig, and the sequins, and the gown from Goodwill - but cover most of your face with masking tape. You'll probably find that it's ever so much more pleasant not having to wear all that foundation.
Don't forget - always steal candy from children.
Sunday, October 19
For The K Nation
You know what this is for - so let me know if it works ::
The following is a brief musical sketch which forms the basis of my upcoming project - Bush in Schenectady, an oratorio - commissioned by and due for debut by the Tonawanda Chamber Tunes Society in January, '04. In this piece, I plan a lyric exposition, through Beat and Word and Sample, of the relationship process between House Music, US Foreign Policy and Sedative Use Among Gay Men - from a Post-Pre-Post Modern perspective ::
Why I prefer trains and believe that anyone who works for an airline should be given whatever they want.
Monday, October 13
What Lies Beneath
You've probably guessed already that there's something of a harsh reality carefully hidden, for the most part, behind the frantic frivolity on this page; a banal yet dreadful set of circumstances which I haven't the stomach nor dignity to iterate, publicly. In other words - at times, things suck profoundly around here, and in ways you might not imagine. So don't try. Because this blog is a form of decorative truth, and is both something to live up to - and something to live down, as well. A friend of mine who will die soon implored me to write that. He has his reasons; and, believe it or not, so have I.
:: Naomi is rapidly depleting the world's supply of personal assistants. :: Nobody sneers at an audience - without actually sneering - like Linda. :: These days, $10,000/day seems like a bargain. :: She's the only ex-supermodel who has publicly declared that she does not want to act ("I'll do anything in front of the camera - just don't make me speak") :: When she takes off whatever stratospherically expensive coat she may have on, she likes to drag it along the runway. Love that... :: Never trips & works a twirl 14 ways & that power walk. :: She's a woman who often resembles a boy - instead of a soviet block orphan who resembles a junkie. :: She doesn't hang with Madonna, Gwyneth or Stella. :: She hangs with Karl, Andre & Sandra.
Good news - at last.
Wednesday, October 8
What's The Point?
As of today ::
An aging aryan gym bunny oversees the world's 6th largest economy
Pot is illegal again in Canada
There is a baby in the world who, for the rest of his/her life, shall face the utter ignominy of having been born in a toilet
It looks like Roy is gonna live
How totally depressing. So, to accessorize the gloom, I remixed a remix I did last year of the bleakest song I know, Dido's Lament/Purcell/Dido & Aeneas ::
Keeping one's apartment has recently become, uh, an issue for several individuals who are near & dear to me. Rent Amnesia has reared it's ugly head once again. So let's recap one of life's basic tenets, shall we?
You NEED to have an apartment. Period. This is because ::
:: otherwise, you'll have to resort to using Public Closets (otherwise known as Dumpsters).
:: there is no cable there on the curb, Darlin'.
:: I won't bring you latte's anymore.
:: no-one will call you - but complete strangers will occasionally kick you. Which is kind of a buzz-killer.
:: you will no longer be able to claim membership within the P.Y.T. demographic. In fact - you won't belong to any demographic.
:: you're allergic to cardboard - don't forget hose hives you always get at IKEA.
:: this is Canada, it's October, and no-one's wearing fur this year.
:: you haven't turned a profitable trick in years.
:: believe it or not, they actually kick you out of bathouses after a certain amount of time - oh, sorry, didn't realize you knew this already!
Keep your shelter, for god's sake.
Thursday, October 2
Black & Blue & You
[Let's try that again...it must be all those aluminum pots...]
Tomorrow is my birthday, thankyouverymuch, and I will be thus occupied with the following ::
:: Hiding. :: Waiting for the Cash. :: Pulling my face up & back (by the temples) so as to give Dr. Shapiro a good idea of the effect I want. :: Trying to disregard a creeping Mid-life Existential Doubt. :: Determining the discounts for which I'm now eligible - Hello, Denny's. :: Completing my tentative treatment for a Golden Girls spin-off - Bronzin' Boyz. :: Writing polkas for my new group, The Comb-over's.
Uh oh - gotta go - yikes - nurse wants to change my bag.