Requiem for the Recently Departed
A Haiku
Mercury Venus
Earth Mars Jupiter Saturn
Uranus Neptune
trauma, paige
Venereal: The Latin adjective form of Venus - God of Love.
Adjective references to the planet use the neologism Venusian.
What you want and what you get haven't loved each other since you were two. They separated for eight months before getting a divorce and now they only speak on holidays. But it's not your fault.
AHHH!HH!H!HH!H!!!111!!!!1!!1
I just got the ALL-TIME-HIGH-SCORE on pinball. Wore yet, I was this close to getting a MILLION MORE for a total of 9.5 mill.
DAMN YOU SANTA!
Played Prey all day. Grade-D story, poor animation, laughable voice acting, but damn the game is fun. And gorgeous to boot.
I delight in greek tragidies, except when they are my own.
This week I'm teaching middle school kids at the Eastview theater camp. In my group of rising 9th graders, there is a kid named Brandon. Brandon is well on the road to tranny-hood. He wears makeup and girls cloths and he makes a rather hot chick. Anyhow, each class (there are four: acting, singing, dance and tech) plays the name game so the teachers can learn everyone's name. There are many variations on the name game, but my favorite flavor is: "Hi, I'm [name] and I like [verb that starts with the same letter as name]." For example, "Hi, I'm Scott and I like swingdancing [begin swingdancing]." Now you try!
At the end of the day, all of the teachers congregate and discuss how things went. I was sitting next to Kevin. Kate (on the choir staff) was mentioning a small issue that came up during the name game. They were playing noun rules ("Hi, I'm [name] and I like [noun with same letter]") and the game came 'round to Brandon: "Hi I'm Brandon and I like boys." Then some jackass kid made a comment under his breathe. "Well Kate," I said to Kate, "that's why you should play verb rules. Then you're good unless he has the balls to say, 'I'm Brandon and I like butt sex' and starts thrusting." Then, as we're all cracking up, Kevin doubles over to reveal little six-year-old Casy sitting opposite in the circle, previously obscured by Kevin's huge head. Oops.
"Uh, hey Casy."
"Hi."
"You're cool, right Casy?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah ya are."
I am a force of corruption.
I'm doing lots of cave tours. Theater camp starts next week. "The Omen" sucked more balls than a Taiwanese hooker on speed. I have a new obsession: South Park.
A behavioral observation: during the frequent discussion with my father over my lack of summer employment, I rarely have a leg of dignity on which to stand. Without any personal power, I defer my arguments to what I consider to be the stainless deity of Logic. For instance:
Dad: "You understand that your employment this summer determines your financial situation next year."
I nod
Dad: "And you know that you won't have any money for making purchases or paying your cellphone bill."
Me: "Dad, your first statement was completely accurate: 'employment determines financial situation.' But in your second statement you blindly assume that (1) Subway won't call me back, (2) the money I make at the caves will be entirely trivial, and (3) I won't find any other work. If you have such a casual ability to prophesy the coming three and a half months, you should be making quite a bit more than you do."
In this situation, my dad is mostly right and I am ashamed, so I assault the minutia of language.
Also, Half-Life 2: Episode One is so kick-ass, I almost peed.