putter putter
a mild governmental errand got me up early, which fed my excuse for a nap, which made me too late for the day shift, which meant that i needed to get lunch, which totally delayed me for the split shift, so i need to get a start on my homework to have it done for tomorrow's classes, which means i can't work tonight.
it's way too easy to squirrel out of being responsible.
naturally i've spent the afternoon finishing the prestige, which was a wonderful story told by an awful storyteller. i haven't seen so many exclamation points in a published novel since nightwatch (which was a translation, so i'm assuming the exclamatory marks are less juvenile and amateur in russian). by contrast, warren ellis's crooked little vein, his first prose offering of book length, was absolutely wonderful. typically grungy, fetishy, filthy ellis, with a heartening happy ending.
this weekend is book club, and my roommate's been hogging my copy of the monthly choice. thus my diversion into sci-fi and post apocalyptic (not really, but somehow warren always conveys the feeling of just-past-doom) gumshoe punk. with the completion of the prestige i once again have nothing to read.
suggestions, anyone?
i've been bopping around la blue boy's house, mostly because if i go back to mine i'll just remind myself of how little i've done toward getting it in shape. it must needs be presentable by thanksgiving, but i can totally see myself procrastinating until a couple days before, when i freak out, buy a bunch of furniture, and shove every unpacked box into one room. no - i have to get it better before then, because i finally bought a ne(k)ko cat and i need to display it somewhere prominent, proper, and unreachable by kitties of the fleshy variety.
speaking of which...
You Are Japanese!
You are obsessed with your hair, your car, and your clothes.
You want to marry a Korean American or Chinese American woman (males); or you want to marry a white guy (females).
You have a nekko cat in your house for good luck.
You check to see if you need to take off your shoes at your friends' houses.
When you visit other Japanese, you give or receive a bag of fruits or vegetables.
When you visit other Japanese, you know that you should bring omiage.
When you leave a Japanese person's house, you take leftover food home on a paper plate or a Styrofoam meat tray.
You keep a supply of rubber bands, twist ties, butter and tofu containers in the kitchen.
When your back is sore, you use Tiger Balm or that flexi-stick with the rubber ball on the end that goes, "katonk," "katonk."
You fight fiercely for the check after dinner.
You have hidden money in the pocket of the person who paid for dinner.
You grew up on rice: bacon fried rice, chili rice, curry rice or red rice.
At school, you had those Hello Kitty pencil boxes and sweet smelling erasers.
Milk makes you queasy and alcohol turns your face red.
Your parents compare you to their friends' kids.
Whenever you are with more than three people, it takes an hour to decide where to eat.
You have heard your name pronounced a half-dozen different ways.
You have one of those "always hot" rice cookers in your kitchen.
You compliment a person from Japan on how well they speak English, and they compliment you on how well you speak Japanese, and you both know you are kind of stretching things.
hah. apparently i'm japanese.
the roommate, la blue boy, and i had our own mini moon festival last night. it mostly consisted of eating way too much food (in grand asian tradition) and watching the clouds block our glorious night orb. oh, well. next year i swear i'll do it all properly: new year, the lantern festival, the moon festival... all of it brightly coloured, well supplied with traditional provisions, and teeming with anti-socialites who have nothing better to do that come over and clown about on semi-obsolete holidays.
it's way too easy to squirrel out of being responsible.
naturally i've spent the afternoon finishing the prestige, which was a wonderful story told by an awful storyteller. i haven't seen so many exclamation points in a published novel since nightwatch (which was a translation, so i'm assuming the exclamatory marks are less juvenile and amateur in russian). by contrast, warren ellis's crooked little vein, his first prose offering of book length, was absolutely wonderful. typically grungy, fetishy, filthy ellis, with a heartening happy ending.
this weekend is book club, and my roommate's been hogging my copy of the monthly choice. thus my diversion into sci-fi and post apocalyptic (not really, but somehow warren always conveys the feeling of just-past-doom) gumshoe punk. with the completion of the prestige i once again have nothing to read.
suggestions, anyone?
i've been bopping around la blue boy's house, mostly because if i go back to mine i'll just remind myself of how little i've done toward getting it in shape. it must needs be presentable by thanksgiving, but i can totally see myself procrastinating until a couple days before, when i freak out, buy a bunch of furniture, and shove every unpacked box into one room. no - i have to get it better before then, because i finally bought a ne(k)ko cat and i need to display it somewhere prominent, proper, and unreachable by kitties of the fleshy variety.
speaking of which...
You Are Japanese!
You are obsessed with your hair, your car, and your clothes.
You want to marry a Korean American or Chinese American woman (males); or you want to marry a white guy (females).
You have a nekko cat in your house for good luck.
You check to see if you need to take off your shoes at your friends' houses.
When you visit other Japanese, you give or receive a bag of fruits or vegetables.
When you visit other Japanese, you know that you should bring omiage.
When you leave a Japanese person's house, you take leftover food home on a paper plate or a Styrofoam meat tray.
You keep a supply of rubber bands, twist ties, butter and tofu containers in the kitchen.
When your back is sore, you use Tiger Balm or that flexi-stick with the rubber ball on the end that goes, "katonk," "katonk."
You fight fiercely for the check after dinner.
You have hidden money in the pocket of the person who paid for dinner.
You grew up on rice: bacon fried rice, chili rice, curry rice or red rice.
At school, you had those Hello Kitty pencil boxes and sweet smelling erasers.
Milk makes you queasy and alcohol turns your face red.
Your parents compare you to their friends' kids.
Whenever you are with more than three people, it takes an hour to decide where to eat.
You have heard your name pronounced a half-dozen different ways.
You have one of those "always hot" rice cookers in your kitchen.
You compliment a person from Japan on how well they speak English, and they compliment you on how well you speak Japanese, and you both know you are kind of stretching things.
hah. apparently i'm japanese.
the roommate, la blue boy, and i had our own mini moon festival last night. it mostly consisted of eating way too much food (in grand asian tradition) and watching the clouds block our glorious night orb. oh, well. next year i swear i'll do it all properly: new year, the lantern festival, the moon festival... all of it brightly coloured, well supplied with traditional provisions, and teeming with anti-socialites who have nothing better to do that come over and clown about on semi-obsolete holidays.