so far i have not found the science.
science mixtape: finished. tracklisting: finished and positively effing inspired (i drew a microscope. and it is relatively good. and all the various bits are labeled, only they are actually the names of the songs. it is quite nice). ready: to be given to Friend.
i am vaguely uneasy about this process. will it be misconstrued as romantic? (1)it is a mixtape. see: high fidelity. (2)some of the songs may be percieved as such (i.e. "with romantic intent") (3)some are songs i know she likes specifically included for this reason. see point (2) above for corollary.
is this a problem (1)because i am not particularly interested in her (2)because i am? this is an honest question. i don't know. one thing i have noticed is that on the telephone, she sounds ex-effing-actly like The Girl™. this makes me want her to never call me again. it is weird. i don't want there to be any overlap.
bloody hell, why is everything complex? why can't i just get knocked up like other girls? why is it always mixtapes about science? or the ocean. or motherfucking birds (they don't need a motherfucking plane. obviously).
anyway. work has been teh suckage. lots of dogs. lots of rain. dogs don't like rain. or mine don't. lucky my pants dried quick today. i just wish it wouldn't rain on me when i have to be outside for the better part of five hours. god help us all come winter. plus, i learnt yesterday that my brakes don't actually work in the rain. i win at life? not so much. how many dogs tomorrow? eleven? i hope not. there is a schedule to adhere to. it is nearly impossible with so many stops. on said bike. i can bike pretty fast, but i get tired after a while. i can't keep it up.
i was thinking today, and here are the top three television shows i would like to own on (eeek, shudder!) dvd (in reverse order of my lust for them):
(3)m*a*s*h. first three seasons are the best, for sure. mike farrell is pretty cute, but wayne rogers will own my heart forever. trapper/hawkeye = korean war otp! the last was positively dreadful, but i'll sit through it before a lot of the tripe on these days. also, i would like to be able to turn the laugh track off so i can see exactly how disturbing the dialogue actually is.
(2)the professionals. none of this ci5 bullshit. i'm talking original lew collins/martin shaw, bodie/doyle, 37/45 et-effing-cetera. i doubt i shall be able to get my hands on these. ever. also, the only ones i have seen have been in pal format. plz to be (a)converting these discs (b)buying me a reigonless dvd player. ew, dvd player. the only one i've got came with my computer, so i figure eh, may as well use it. i own three dvds (night of the living dead, l'argent, and a guitar instructional disc i got for free). point being? I LOVE CRAZY OLD-TIMEY COP SHOWS WITH BOYS IN TIGHT PANTS WHO ARE PROBABLY GETTIN' IT ON. oh, teh ghey. saviour of many an otherwise terrible television concept.
(1)the man from UNCLE. oh damn, spies! remember two years ago when i made those stickers that said "scientists do it with test tubes"? and there was a kinda hot guy on them? yeah, that was illya kuryakin. russian spies. HOT. for some inexplicable reason, i am in love with this show. yeah, what?
i need new jeans. all my jeans are torn or have tar on them. next monday, without fail. half-off day at the thrift store. hells yeah.
um. i am reading the celluloid closet now. and checking the reader obsessively for apartments. and i want some cider. if i am going to be an alcoholic, i want to taste like apples. i don't know if i plan on becoming an alcoholic, but the liquor bottles in my room say yes. wine, gin, rum, vodka. why the bloody hell? i would rather eat peanutbutter chocolate soy icecream. that sounds really good. study anatomy via coloring book. lesbian sex. w/e. i wish i was still the benign sort of crazy. the sort everyone calls "creative". now all i do is trade stories with my friends about sitting alone in my room and not being able to get out of bed. only i have to get out of bed now that i have a job again. which i will fuck up if things get too bad. i always fuck up. in anticipation, i compulsively buy liquor. for those times when i decline to get out of bed. it is sitting on my bookcase, within easy reach. huh.
on a lighter note, i am going to make teeshirts. they'll be fabulous. they will determine who i am friends with!
i am vaguely uneasy about this process. will it be misconstrued as romantic? (1)it is a mixtape. see: high fidelity. (2)some of the songs may be percieved as such (i.e. "with romantic intent") (3)some are songs i know she likes specifically included for this reason. see point (2) above for corollary.
is this a problem (1)because i am not particularly interested in her (2)because i am? this is an honest question. i don't know. one thing i have noticed is that on the telephone, she sounds ex-effing-actly like The Girl™. this makes me want her to never call me again. it is weird. i don't want there to be any overlap.
bloody hell, why is everything complex? why can't i just get knocked up like other girls? why is it always mixtapes about science? or the ocean. or motherfucking birds (they don't need a motherfucking plane. obviously).
anyway. work has been teh suckage. lots of dogs. lots of rain. dogs don't like rain. or mine don't. lucky my pants dried quick today. i just wish it wouldn't rain on me when i have to be outside for the better part of five hours. god help us all come winter. plus, i learnt yesterday that my brakes don't actually work in the rain. i win at life? not so much. how many dogs tomorrow? eleven? i hope not. there is a schedule to adhere to. it is nearly impossible with so many stops. on said bike. i can bike pretty fast, but i get tired after a while. i can't keep it up.
i was thinking today, and here are the top three television shows i would like to own on (eeek, shudder!) dvd (in reverse order of my lust for them):
(3)m*a*s*h. first three seasons are the best, for sure. mike farrell is pretty cute, but wayne rogers will own my heart forever. trapper/hawkeye = korean war otp! the last was positively dreadful, but i'll sit through it before a lot of the tripe on these days. also, i would like to be able to turn the laugh track off so i can see exactly how disturbing the dialogue actually is.
(2)the professionals. none of this ci5 bullshit. i'm talking original lew collins/martin shaw, bodie/doyle, 37/45 et-effing-cetera. i doubt i shall be able to get my hands on these. ever. also, the only ones i have seen have been in pal format. plz to be (a)converting these discs (b)buying me a reigonless dvd player. ew, dvd player. the only one i've got came with my computer, so i figure eh, may as well use it. i own three dvds (night of the living dead, l'argent, and a guitar instructional disc i got for free). point being? I LOVE CRAZY OLD-TIMEY COP SHOWS WITH BOYS IN TIGHT PANTS WHO ARE PROBABLY GETTIN' IT ON. oh, teh ghey. saviour of many an otherwise terrible television concept.
(1)the man from UNCLE. oh damn, spies! remember two years ago when i made those stickers that said "scientists do it with test tubes"? and there was a kinda hot guy on them? yeah, that was illya kuryakin. russian spies. HOT. for some inexplicable reason, i am in love with this show. yeah, what?
i need new jeans. all my jeans are torn or have tar on them. next monday, without fail. half-off day at the thrift store. hells yeah.
um. i am reading the celluloid closet now. and checking the reader obsessively for apartments. and i want some cider. if i am going to be an alcoholic, i want to taste like apples. i don't know if i plan on becoming an alcoholic, but the liquor bottles in my room say yes. wine, gin, rum, vodka. why the bloody hell? i would rather eat peanutbutter chocolate soy icecream. that sounds really good. study anatomy via coloring book. lesbian sex. w/e. i wish i was still the benign sort of crazy. the sort everyone calls "creative". now all i do is trade stories with my friends about sitting alone in my room and not being able to get out of bed. only i have to get out of bed now that i have a job again. which i will fuck up if things get too bad. i always fuck up. in anticipation, i compulsively buy liquor. for those times when i decline to get out of bed. it is sitting on my bookcase, within easy reach. huh.
on a lighter note, i am going to make teeshirts. they'll be fabulous. they will determine who i am friends with!