THUS FAR, in the year 2010...
A sketchy character calling itself the Grand Marquis of Various Shit ascends as the half-assed "narrator" of thoth_moon 's LJ, which suddenly sounds like a shit-tastic soap opera. Its position is tentative, as its landlord is prone to whims and likewise as prone to reversing said whims.
Side-stepping complete and utterly narcissistic bullshit for a moment:
I spent December 31 with food poisoning. One of my earliest impressions that continues to linger with me is my astonishment that, having thrown up the only food consumed that day, my breakfast, around 5:30 in the afternoon, is the observation that in all that time it looked like my oatmeal didn't break down in my stomach at all before coming back up. Carry that warm and fuzzy image in your brain whorls until your next drinking binge, please. Anyway, the last evening of 2009 found me listless in bed, a glass of Sprite and saltines on the rolling thingy that serves as my bedside table, and the season of Roseanne that I borrowed from home thrown onto my computer with the "Play All" option hit so that I had something to drift in and out of sentience to. I recall 11:00 pm, and then 12:34 am, upon which I decided, fuck it, kicked all peripheral shit off my bed, killed the electronics, stripped and returned to said bed. Most irksome about all of that was that as of 10:00 that evening I actually had someplace I could have been, had I been able to stand more than 10 seconds without profound suspicions that someone had come along and hollowed out my torso while my mind was otherwise preoccupied. Fuck you, food poisoning.
January 1 was a day of massive "tv" watching. I reserve the right to use quotations because 1) while we own a television, we don't have cable, so all things watched on said tv are via DVD and on occasion YouTube courtesy of the Wii, and 2) I started out watching things via YouTube courtesy of pilfered Internet from upstairs. I watched the first two parts of the miniseries adaptation made of The Master and Margarita made a few years back and I'm enjoying it. I find it interesting they opt to make "present" day (post-revolutionary but pre-Stalin Russia) sepia, save for the scenes toward the end of each part where Woland (the Devil) totally fucks someone up set to funky music, while the scenes in Yershalaim with Pilate and Jesus (i.e. Ha-Nozri) are in color. What I've seen suggests a pretty faithful adaptation, and I'm also immensely pleased not only with the presence of Behemoth (the big bipedal gun-toting black cat in Woland's retinue), but that they managed to pull him off without him coming off tacky (though any scene of him from behind's slightly comical because I think it might be a midget in a suit - still, I ain't complaining).
I planned on watching at least some of the remaining five parts of it today, but I got sidetracked, partially because I slept in till almost noon after getting back around four this morning from Tatiana's, where I passed yesterday evening in retaliation to my treacherous body's incapacitation on New Year's Eve. We watched Alien, the end of Psycho, Rear Window and about two hours' worth of The Twilight Zone. Jimmy Stewart seems to get typecasted in Hitchcock's stuff as a dick, which I find sort of funny because there's something to the man that reminds me of Don Knotts, therefore trying to imagine him as a globe-trotting photographer, or as a Davy Crockett-type character like he was in How the West Was Won, just ... doesn't compute right in my head. *shrug*
Today we here on the first level of the duplex finished watching the second season of Oz. I understand the storyline well enough, though for the sake of consistency I suppose I should watch season one, which they watched while I was back in Riley last week. The storyline between Christopher Meloni's character and the recovering alcoholic dude who used to take it up the ass from head Nazi dude was tragic, because in the end he actually fell in love with Meloni's character only to find out he was being played by head Nazi dude's whipping boy the whole time--so sad!
Also, you might be a nerd, when...
Me: Where's he [gangster dude, apparently from Nigeria] from?
Dane: Uh ... Nigeria, I think.
Me: Oh--so, he's Igbo, or Yoruba, or what...?
We're still not sure ^^
I've been trying to remember to eat today. I made a smoothie that probably should have had more fruit and less yogurt, and toast and peanut butter for breakfast when I got up, ate a brownie sometime this afternoon, and have taken two bites of a piece of pizza I heated up. Which brings me to this important message:
Dear stomach: not all food is poisoned. Cut the whiny nausea crap and let me eat my dinner. Signed: His Excellency the Grand Marquis of I Own Your Visceral Ass, i.e. the Landlord.
I get up earlier tomorrow to go to Topeka. I should reroute the evening toward winding down.
Until Next Time!
Side-stepping complete and utterly narcissistic bullshit for a moment:
I spent December 31 with food poisoning. One of my earliest impressions that continues to linger with me is my astonishment that, having thrown up the only food consumed that day, my breakfast, around 5:30 in the afternoon, is the observation that in all that time it looked like my oatmeal didn't break down in my stomach at all before coming back up. Carry that warm and fuzzy image in your brain whorls until your next drinking binge, please. Anyway, the last evening of 2009 found me listless in bed, a glass of Sprite and saltines on the rolling thingy that serves as my bedside table, and the season of Roseanne that I borrowed from home thrown onto my computer with the "Play All" option hit so that I had something to drift in and out of sentience to. I recall 11:00 pm, and then 12:34 am, upon which I decided, fuck it, kicked all peripheral shit off my bed, killed the electronics, stripped and returned to said bed. Most irksome about all of that was that as of 10:00 that evening I actually had someplace I could have been, had I been able to stand more than 10 seconds without profound suspicions that someone had come along and hollowed out my torso while my mind was otherwise preoccupied. Fuck you, food poisoning.
January 1 was a day of massive "tv" watching. I reserve the right to use quotations because 1) while we own a television, we don't have cable, so all things watched on said tv are via DVD and on occasion YouTube courtesy of the Wii, and 2) I started out watching things via YouTube courtesy of pilfered Internet from upstairs. I watched the first two parts of the miniseries adaptation made of The Master and Margarita made a few years back and I'm enjoying it. I find it interesting they opt to make "present" day (post-revolutionary but pre-Stalin Russia) sepia, save for the scenes toward the end of each part where Woland (the Devil) totally fucks someone up set to funky music, while the scenes in Yershalaim with Pilate and Jesus (i.e. Ha-Nozri) are in color. What I've seen suggests a pretty faithful adaptation, and I'm also immensely pleased not only with the presence of Behemoth (the big bipedal gun-toting black cat in Woland's retinue), but that they managed to pull him off without him coming off tacky (though any scene of him from behind's slightly comical because I think it might be a midget in a suit - still, I ain't complaining).
I planned on watching at least some of the remaining five parts of it today, but I got sidetracked, partially because I slept in till almost noon after getting back around four this morning from Tatiana's, where I passed yesterday evening in retaliation to my treacherous body's incapacitation on New Year's Eve. We watched Alien, the end of Psycho, Rear Window and about two hours' worth of The Twilight Zone. Jimmy Stewart seems to get typecasted in Hitchcock's stuff as a dick, which I find sort of funny because there's something to the man that reminds me of Don Knotts, therefore trying to imagine him as a globe-trotting photographer, or as a Davy Crockett-type character like he was in How the West Was Won, just ... doesn't compute right in my head. *shrug*
Today we here on the first level of the duplex finished watching the second season of Oz. I understand the storyline well enough, though for the sake of consistency I suppose I should watch season one, which they watched while I was back in Riley last week. The storyline between Christopher Meloni's character and the recovering alcoholic dude who used to take it up the ass from head Nazi dude was tragic, because in the end he actually fell in love with Meloni's character only to find out he was being played by head Nazi dude's whipping boy the whole time--so sad!
Also, you might be a nerd, when...
Me: Where's he [gangster dude, apparently from Nigeria] from?
Dane: Uh ... Nigeria, I think.
Me: Oh--so, he's Igbo, or Yoruba, or what...?
We're still not sure ^^
I've been trying to remember to eat today. I made a smoothie that probably should have had more fruit and less yogurt, and toast and peanut butter for breakfast when I got up, ate a brownie sometime this afternoon, and have taken two bites of a piece of pizza I heated up. Which brings me to this important message:
Dear stomach: not all food is poisoned. Cut the whiny nausea crap and let me eat my dinner. Signed: His Excellency the Grand Marquis of I Own Your Visceral Ass, i.e. the Landlord.
I get up earlier tomorrow to go to Topeka. I should reroute the evening toward winding down.
Until Next Time!