Total destruction to your mind!
I've been begatten, or begot, or something. Thanks, Masq! It only took a little grovelling . . . I grovel so well.
I'm not quite sure what this will turn out to be: it may turn out that LiveJournal is not the place for someone who deals with as much writer's block as I do. This may turn out more bloggish than LJ; most of my online reading is in the blogosphere rather than in LiveJournals. Someone once commented that blogs tend to be a male domain while LJ tends to be dominated by women. Of course, someone else tried to make a sociobiological point about this: men "hunt" links, while women "gather" together into communities. Of course, there are plenty of female bloggers (though I only have one bookmarked; my favorites folder is as disturbingly sexually segregated as my CD collection). There are probably lots of male LJers too -- I just don't know any. (In any case, I reject simplistic notions of sociobiology, such as the straw man [my straw is pretty sexually segregated too] I set up a few sentences above. Yes, I strongly oppose the caricatures of arguments I draw myself!)
I should talk about "Touched," being somewhat known as someone who talks about Buffy (the Rosicrucians cited me! take that Ded!), but I have yet to figure out the cut-tag, so no spoilers yet. All in all though, I was pretty underwhelmed. "Underwhelmed" has been my Buffy-theme since "Smashed." Over on ATPo there's a kerfluffle over whether Angel or Spike is Buffy's true love. (I'm considering reviving my saga of the Sha'i-Pir Wars.) At this point, the only relationship I really want to see Buffy indulge in is with a large bottle of Prozac.
After reading about it in The Major Lift, The Minor Fall, I had to go out and get the Oxford American Annual Southern Music Issue. I already have the Swamp Dogg (but you don't, and you should), but I didn't have Little Milton's version of "Grits Ain't Groceries," which rocks righteous! Plus, the Blind Boys of Alabama! Esther Phillips! R.L. Burnside! A bunch of people I've never heard of! A whole bunch of great blues, rockabilly, soul, gospel and hillbilly at that point where they all come together and genre (color?) doesn't mean a damn. The Marilyn Monroe/Jane Russell track from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes seems a bit out of place, but what do you want to bet rahael loves it?
In other music news, cjl demands that we all go buy the new reissue of Live At Leeds. I (for once in my life) am showing sales resistance. I've already bought the damn thing twice: first, in its original six-track configuration (which the AMG claims runs for 19:14 -- if they're correct it may be the shortest major album ever released); second, in its 1995 18-track configuration. I just don't see much reason to buy it a third time; I don't even like The Who that much anymore, and I think endlessly mutating permutations of Live at Leeds may be part of the reason.
Anyway, welcome to my nightmare. Hope you enjoy it!
I'm not quite sure what this will turn out to be: it may turn out that LiveJournal is not the place for someone who deals with as much writer's block as I do. This may turn out more bloggish than LJ; most of my online reading is in the blogosphere rather than in LiveJournals. Someone once commented that blogs tend to be a male domain while LJ tends to be dominated by women. Of course, someone else tried to make a sociobiological point about this: men "hunt" links, while women "gather" together into communities. Of course, there are plenty of female bloggers (though I only have one bookmarked; my favorites folder is as disturbingly sexually segregated as my CD collection). There are probably lots of male LJers too -- I just don't know any. (In any case, I reject simplistic notions of sociobiology, such as the straw man [my straw is pretty sexually segregated too] I set up a few sentences above. Yes, I strongly oppose the caricatures of arguments I draw myself!)
I should talk about "Touched," being somewhat known as someone who talks about Buffy (the Rosicrucians cited me! take that Ded!), but I have yet to figure out the cut-tag, so no spoilers yet. All in all though, I was pretty underwhelmed. "Underwhelmed" has been my Buffy-theme since "Smashed." Over on ATPo there's a kerfluffle over whether Angel or Spike is Buffy's true love. (I'm considering reviving my saga of the Sha'i-Pir Wars.) At this point, the only relationship I really want to see Buffy indulge in is with a large bottle of Prozac.
After reading about it in The Major Lift, The Minor Fall, I had to go out and get the Oxford American Annual Southern Music Issue. I already have the Swamp Dogg (but you don't, and you should), but I didn't have Little Milton's version of "Grits Ain't Groceries," which rocks righteous! Plus, the Blind Boys of Alabama! Esther Phillips! R.L. Burnside! A bunch of people I've never heard of! A whole bunch of great blues, rockabilly, soul, gospel and hillbilly at that point where they all come together and genre (color?) doesn't mean a damn. The Marilyn Monroe/Jane Russell track from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes seems a bit out of place, but what do you want to bet rahael loves it?
In other music news, cjl demands that we all go buy the new reissue of Live At Leeds. I (for once in my life) am showing sales resistance. I've already bought the damn thing twice: first, in its original six-track configuration (which the AMG claims runs for 19:14 -- if they're correct it may be the shortest major album ever released); second, in its 1995 18-track configuration. I just don't see much reason to buy it a third time; I don't even like The Who that much anymore, and I think endlessly mutating permutations of Live at Leeds may be part of the reason.
Anyway, welcome to my nightmare. Hope you enjoy it!