June 16, 2003

I have an examination type thing in under nine hours. Instead of studying though, I made a mix CD.

Stone Roses - I Wanna Be Adored -- Demo version off Garage Flower. Unfortunately I've been listening to this one so much, the final album cut is sounding strange and overproduced.
McLusky - Joy
Captain Beefheart - Upon The Me Oh My (Live) -- From the London 1974 release.
Trans Am - Play In The Summer
Cat Power - He War -- I've never been a fan of Cat Power much, always seemed soft whiny femi-rock (I don't like P.J. Harvey either), but this song is really, really, good.
Sonic Youth & Lydia Lunch - Death Valley '69 -- I was kinda annoyed to find that this track on the Plow! No Wave compilation is the same as on the Bad Moon Rising album, but it's still a great song.
Low & The Dirty Three - Down By The River (Neil Young cover)
The Saints - Brisbane (Security City)
The Pixies - Trompe Le Monde
Akufen - Nag Nag Nag -- Actually, this is a Cabaret Voltaire song that's been remixed by Akufen, but it sounds nothing like the original, so I'm going to call it a cover.
The Fall - L.A.
The Hard-Ons - Something About You
Tortoise - Djed
Pulp - Babies
Arturo Stalteri - Here Come The Warm Jets (Brian Eno cover)

Comments?

Hi everybody! I hope you are all doing good! .I haven’t written anything lately because I have been really busy at school. It’s over now and next year I’ll be in the third grade. I hope it will be as much fun as second grade was!

I had a really good weekend with my dad and my friends. Did you ever have one of those days that you wish you could live over and over again? Not because you did something wrong but because it made you so happy? That’s how yesterday was.

I played a lot with my friend Gracie and her pet rabbit. We also started a dog walking business and got to walk most of the neighborhood dogs. We are donating any money that we make from doing that to the animal shelter. Then me made homemade lemonade from fresh lemons and sold it to some of our other neighbors and people just walking by. It was fun! My dad had some of his friends over and we had a barbecue. His friends are nice but all they wanted to do was watch golf. Boring!

Gracie and me went up to my room to write poems. Here is one I wrote while I was looking at my window. I hope you like it!

Untitled

The moon flys by
With the birds soaring high
I don’t want to waste this moment

In the day I shape the clouds
And paint the sky of pure
But I’m here to face the truth

To turn my face around
And to put my feet on the ground
But I close my eyes
And start my imagination

That’s because my imagination is with
The moon flying by
And the birds soaring high
And I don’t want to waste this moment

Now it’s time to go

I have some more that poems that I’m working on and I hope I can finish them soon. I really hope you like them. Bye!

There is nothing freakier than showing up at work 30 minutes late and discovering that there's no one here.

I work with three other people in a large room. It looks like two of them haven't surfaced and the third was here - her copy of the Times is still (metaphorically) warm but she's nowhere to be found. Even my supervisor, the queen of the closed-door policy, has disappeared - there's no light coming from under her door.

So I'm sitting here, thinking: they had to pick today to change buildings, didn't they? For god's sake, why doesn't anybody tell me anything? OK, I was late; I am deeply, tragically sorry, but at least you could've left me a friggin' note without going all twilight zone on me.

I feel like a little kid forgotten at a theme park, except in this case the park is the world's lonliest, coldest, and emptiest. It has also metamorphosed into a warehouse.

Whimper.

When I was younger, maybe in like, 8th, 9th, 10th grade, somewhere around there, my dad and I would play basketball in our driveway. We would play some one-on-one, and I would never win, then we would play HORSE, he was a great shot. After each made shot, we would wipe our shoe across the gravel and mark where the other person had to shoot from. Invariably, for the last shot to finish me off, my dad would step out much farther than I could even hurl the ball towards the basket and I would say to him, "IMPOSSIBLE!" and he would scrape his foot across the gravel in front of his toes, square up, and look at me and proclaim, "Never say 'impossible'" ... ... *swoosh*

I know he was talking about more than NBA 3-pointers. It's days like these though, that I just feel like I'm shooting from 100 yards into one of those rigged, oblonged, carnival hoops.

A writing-through of the eighth chapter of Ulysses.

                                     Bad for their tummies. <117.14>
                              If you leave a bit of codfish <117.32>
         Brewery barge with export stout <118.10>
                       Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper <121.4>
                      Wait. The full moon was the night we were <130.17>
                         at the tables calling for more bread no charge <131.40>
    Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. <135.28>
             like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips <137.43>
                    Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where? <143.36>