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| Wednesday, April 30th, 2003 | | 1:04 pm |
nuggets of soul-shaking solipsism deep-fried in plasma
I. How many hoops do I have to jump through before my oasis of gainful, meaningful employment is revealed to be a mirage? I feel like Charlie Brown chasing after the football, and I deplore non-sexual physical exertion. II. Does matzoh ball soup really complement Kabob and Curry for a banquet-style dinner? I think the idea to have Brown students do potluck appetizers and desserts to go along with take-out Indian cuisine, while loftily and frugally intentioned, may engender some palatal unease. Granted, ice cream is always a boon, but SPAM™ sushi seems to be more of a questionable judgment call. III. I am considering dropping my philosophy class, so that I will not have to write 10 pages of dross on Althusserean subjectivation and garner a pissy grade to scourge my college transcript for perpetuity. Can't decide whether a sketchy invocation of prudence justifies hedonism. IV. I wish thoughts could be sifted like flour. My mind is thumb-tacked with confusion. | | Saturday, April 19th, 2003 | | 2:31 pm |
all out of faith
i've developed this new consolation ritual, that for some reason provides me with a smattering of solace. every time my employment requests are rebuffed, i open up the old mp3 player and blare natalie imbruglia's "torn." yes, i am aware this bland pop ditty is about a puffy-lipped australian waif who can't hold on to her boyfriend because he doesn't "understand women." but (inexplicably) the song seems to ease the discomfiture, drowning the self-denigration in muted power chords. as i write this, i am now on my fifth consecutive "torn" listen. this is a new record. smile. life is too beautiful to let the music stop. | | Friday, April 18th, 2003 | | 12:39 am |
| | Tuesday, April 15th, 2003 | | 4:19 pm |
| | Monday, April 7th, 2003 | | 5:08 pm |
bile (i.e. excerpts of epistolary anguish): part 2 of an ongoing series
dear cold front, i spotted a robin on the Main Green this afternoon, being frosted by the incipient stages of the 4 to 6 inches we're supposed to be getting by tomorrow morning. grant me the poetic license to anthropomorphize to ventriloquize my dejection, as i say that i have never seen a bird so confused. yours in blankets, sanders Current Mood:  cold | | Monday, March 31st, 2003 | | 5:10 pm |
| | 12:19 am |
interview with the self...
So Sanders, tell me what you did over your Spring Break? I redid the Web site for Residential Council. It used to be really sucky. Now it's less sucky. And what hyperlink might I click to see your inferior handiwork on display? Glad you asked. Try clicking here Current Mood:  accomplished | | Sunday, March 30th, 2003 | | 12:43 am |
it's raining water
today, my tv actually forced me to watch MTV's Spring Break festivities. this is not hyperbole. a box popped on the screen with a message from the cable company suggesting that i watch "Spring Break Idols" on MTV, in lieu of the "M*A*S*H" rerun the set was tuned to. and then several seconds later, the tv actually changed the channel to MTV all by itself. i find this disturbing. there are very few things in my life that i feel i have total control over. i thought my television set was one of those things. apparently, now even my cathode ray tube takes offense to me and my pop culture proclivities. pitch for fox spec (potential may sweeps special "when television sets attack"): - Sick of Melvin's obsession with sensationalized, glossy FOX News coverage of unseemly world affairs, Mr. Television Set permanently locks on The Weather Channel for sensationalized, glossy coverage of cumulus clouds - Jill's high-definition, stereophonic tv set decides to see if she really has epilepsy - Bill does not laugh at painfully unamusing "SNL" sketch featuring Chris Kattan in a diaper. Big Mistake. - Against Mommy's admonitions, Litte Johnny insists on watching "Baywatch" reruns on TNN. In subtle rebuke, television set starts spewing large silicone breast implants at Johnny's viscera from the VCR entry slot. - Hilarious hijinks and inadvertent electric shock therapy ensue during a very special episode of "7th Heaven" - A fresh perspective on the perennial gimmick "Smell-O-Vision"? Current Music: the coral - dreaming of you | | Wednesday, March 26th, 2003 | | 9:55 pm |
unemployment: an opus
stark cold and naked i linger where the shadows mime elegy to the incontinent masses overcome by the shivers that disparage the mind and ravage the flesh i genuflect the muse bereft of his pimp his cognizance that purpose comes in myriad forms asphyxiating his truth-besotted soul in a shallow bath of contradiction i stammer "o zeus, o god, o ronald mcdonald: for i am blind must you point me toward the light, and i will walk my soles bloody, my heart ragged till solace be mine at last" my psalms squelched by silence | | Friday, March 21st, 2003 | | 12:38 am |
 Current Mood:  peaceful | | Saturday, March 15th, 2003 | | 11:38 pm |
life in the key of lavigne...
LOSING GRIP: - graduating from college in two months - need job soon - out of oreos COMPLICATED: - 20th century continental philosophy - love SK8ER BOI: - personally, i don't understand the logic behind the whole grunge-chic thing, because if you're willing to make a concerted effort to look scruffy, why not just try to look sexy? I'M WITH YOU: - still taking requests to be someone's concubine MOBILE: - license, but no car - alexander calder groupie UNWANTED: - war on iraq - ban on female reproductive rights - norwalk - ants in my sink TOMORROW: - read lacan, try to understand lacan - conduct dormitory tours - buy oreos - rescouncil meeting, lgr meeting - read lacan again, try to understand lacan again ANYTHING BUT ORDINARY: - a day in which i watch no television - dancing hippos THINGS I'LL NEVER SAY: - "if i could say what i wanna to say, i'd say i wanna blow you away" - "if i could say what i wanna see, i'd wanna see you go down on one knee." - "marry me today. yes, i'm wishing my life away." MY WORLD: - writing lj entries on saturday night. moving on... NOBODY'S FOOL: - i know all the words to the "anna nicole show" theme song TOO MUCH TO ASK: - can i have world peace and a boyfriend? NAKED: - only for hygienic purposes (or when intoxicated) | | Monday, March 10th, 2003 | | 12:12 am |
hindsight
conversation i wish i had with the cute guy from last semester's English class upon a chance encounter this Saturday in the carbohydrates section of Super Stop & Shop: (cute guy is fondling boxed vermicelli as i walk up the aisle. eye contact is made) me: hey, how's it going? cute guy: hey. me: you have exceptional taste in pasta. cute guy (blushes): why, thank you. me: also, i find your physique quite compelling. would you, by any chance, be interested in joining me for some java in a romantic nook of Starbucks tomorrow evening? cute guy: why not? i adore steamy mochas. me: perhaps afterwards we can return to my apartment and caress. cute guy: that sounds delightful. let us go purchase some whipped cream. conversation that actually took place (note the fine distinction between fantasy and reality): (cute guy is fondling boxed vermicelli as i walk up the aisle. eye contact is made) me: hey, how's it going? cute guy: hey. (subtext = i am a wimp) | | Wednesday, March 5th, 2003 | | 1:16 am |
simple existence implicitly negates the possibility of innovation
Freudian dissection of the previous day's activities: ID: • Sleepy • Hungry • Horny • Sleepy EGO: • If I go to class, I will learn stuff • Damn, it is cold outside • Meetings cease to be boring when I have the clout to get people to shut up. • Watching television soap operas enables me to sublimate the gaping voids resulting from a lack of object-cathexis • Food tastes better when I'm starving, and/or when my roommate makes it for me. • Pointless meetings are best avoided, when time can be filled with other pointless activities. • Irulan is slightly more intelligent than Trishelle. Trishelle has slightly bigger breasts than Irulan. • If I continue writing this lj post, will people read it? SUPER-EGO: • Sanders, you are a lazy, lazy bum. • Shame, Shame! | | Sunday, March 2nd, 2003 | | 1:14 am |
why people play "truth or dare"
• because they are sluts and darn proud of it • because they are sluts but ashamed of their sluttish activities and want to expose other people as bigger sluts than they, thereby rendering themselves chaste on a relative scale • because they are chaste by choice and want to flaunt the superiority of their exalted personal convictions by exposing other people as slut-bag-hell-bent-wastrels • because they are chaste by default, homely or psychologically disturbed, and get a somewhat perverse charge out of vicariously reliving others' sexploits • because they are drunk | | Sunday, February 16th, 2003 | | 11:43 am |
| | Tuesday, February 11th, 2003 | | 6:06 am |
be my freud
Just woke up spastic from this intensely anxiety-ridden dream. Due to an epidemic of Norwalk at Brown, the university was mandating that all students be inoculated with vaccinations for the disease each time they entered or left the dorm. Except they had to administer the injections THEMSELVES. You had to walk into this makeshift classroom/infirmary, put on latex gloves, fill up a syringe with fluid (mixture of viral load and milk) and inject yourself with the stuff on the hand right through the glove. Problem was (big surprise), I couldn't do it. Kept fucking up. I spilled infectious fluid everywhere, tore off my gloves, exposed a room full of Brown students and my high school calculus teacher to the virus. But they kept making me try to do it, and they wouldn't help. Also, I dreamed that I contemplated joining the staff of The Indy. Gah! | | Monday, January 27th, 2003 | | 4:27 pm |
revaluation of values
The opportunity to attend a Martin Scorsese lecture isn't worth a 30-minute stint on the Main Green in January. Also, "Taxi Driver" sucks. In the future, I will not make the mistake of queuing up in sub-zero temperatures to see Golden-Globe winning filmmakers, only to get turned away at the precise moment my mucous membranes switch from screaming-in-pain mode to numb mode. | | Tuesday, January 21st, 2003 | | 12:15 am |
a pledge to my brain cells
2 hours of television a week this semester. Tops. No joke. Yes, I can hear you laughing, but I'm serious. Note: I am hereby using the term "television" more specifically than most, in that by "television," I do not include any weekly serial dramas helmed by either Joss Whedon or J.J. Abrahms, which constitute the whole of quality entertainment currently piped onto America's boob tubes. "Television" is that which is either non-quality entertainment or non-quality non-entertainment. Also, Puck must be muzzled. | | Friday, January 10th, 2003 | | 5:22 pm |
some afternoon conversation, of the cyber-variety
Sandman111101:[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<font [...] </font>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] <FONT face='times new roman' color='FF0000'><B>Sandman111101:</B></FONT><FONT face='geneva' </FONT> The questions about vaginas were especially humorous and enlightening
<FONT face='times new roman' color='0000FF'><B>Loverboy1626:</B></FONT><FONT face='times new roman'</FONT> i thought so
<FONT face='times new roman' color='FF0000'><B>Sandman111101:</B></FONT><FONT face='times new roman'</FONT> I'm very glad i do not have one
<FONT face='times new roman' color='0000FF'><B>Loverboy1626:</B></FONT><FONT face='times new roman'</FONT> I second that  thankful | | Wednesday, January 1st, 2003 | | 3:59 pm |
you are my nemesis factor
i received this little toy from a friend as a gift for the corporately-coopted holiday formally known as christmas — an electronic puzzle game called "nemesis factor" made by hasbro. basically, it's a little plastic doohickey with luminescent rainbow colored buttons and special components inside: a light sensor, a motion sensor, and the soul of lucifer. "nemesis factor" has 100 distinct levels to be played, and if all are successfully won and completed, a little white pyramid at the top of the gadget lights up in triumph. and, please save me, i want to light up that stupid pyramid. a sample puzzle (level 57 or so): a robotic, unintelligible female voice spews out a garbled list that repeats names of the planets of the solar system over and over, as you simultaneously frantically presses five buttons on the machine in the right order within half a split second. If you do it right, happy bleeps. If you do it wrong, a loud buzzing noise emanates. i am currently on a level where you have to roll the cube-shaped "nemesis factor" on the floor like a ball of yarn in 5 perfect circular rotations. if you fail to do so, the toy makes a loud "glass breaking" noise. this is what you do with your life if you don't have a boyfriend. Current Mood:  bored |
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