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Archives

Thursday, July 17, 2008
You’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for boobies :: 'mouse :: 1

At the end of the day I’m a clavicle man, ... er, ‘mouse.

image


Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Truth Beneath All Lies :: JadedBeauty :: 2

...And I thank you...Not because you are some amazing person who deserves to be thanked, but because you are weak.  Because you needed to feel better about yourself, you longed to compare stories under the guise of being a decent human being, you have freed me from regret.  I see him, and you, for what you both are: Mere pawns in this twisted game.  I didn’t deserve what I got, you showed me that.  Now I am fully aware that I am the only truly innocent creature in this charade.  He didn’t let me go because he loved you more.  He didn’t feel bad for cheating on you.  No remorse lay in his mind the nights we shared a home.  No.  Now his regrets lie in your bed.  With every thrust, my name plays through his tortured soul, sad as a Spanish lullaby.  Your name does not spill from his lips without contempt.  Your skin leads only to thoughts of me.

It’s funny how one believes they see the whole picture when the paint from the first strokes is still tacky to the touch. 

I thought I knew, but until you called, begging me not to hang up, I had no idea.

Thank you for I am now free to live my life.


Monday, June 16, 2008
‘mouse v. mouse—murder most foul :: 'mouse :: 1

Warning: The following entry involves graphic depictions of a real murder.  You have been warned

Oh, I nearly forgot to give you the update in the ‘mouse v. mouse chronicles.

In a classic example of “if you aren’t willing to kill it, you have no right to eat it” (or something like that) I’m innocently changing the oil in the car on Sunday afternoon when ‘mrs. comes and excitedly tells me to “come quickly.” She and the kids have the Big Mouse cornered under a bookshelf and they “want me to do something about it.”

Here’s where someone should have thought fast and made me sign over video rights.

I grab a broom and the skimmer net from the swimming pool and Go In to Do Battle. 

To my great surprise, I actually trap the aforementioned Big Mouse in the net. 

Figuring aforementioned Big Mouse should not be out in the daytime, hiding semi-exposed under the bookshelf and moving slowly enough for me to catch him, I determine to dispatch him to the Great White Peachfield in the sky.  With the only implement handy:  a shoe.

No.  I don’t feel particularly proud of this near cannibalistic version of rodentcide.  But it did bring about a very hands-on end to our battle that somehow seemed more just and proper than the cold snap of a trap in the night. 

If you aren’t willing to look ridiculous in front of your family while killing a mouse with your bare hands favorite sneaker, you have no right to kill it at all?


Saturday, June 07, 2008
What is the script? :: JadedBeauty :: 0

I am in complete and utter astonishment because I do not know what to make of this: 

Not being one to look behind the glitz and glamour of the Hollywood lights and makeup, I was shocked that this movie made me think. It seems as though everything and nothing came from this film and punched me in the face.  What is it saying?  What does it even mean? 

I’m feel that I am of at least average intelligence.  At my disposal are a plethora of “twenty dollar words” that led my ex to comment, “You sure do got a purdy mouth...”

But I digress, I know NOTHING of politics or religion.  I know what I believe...Or, better yet, I know what I CLAIM to believe.  I know why I like or don’t like something, but this movie left me questioning my own beliefs and upbringing.

Weird…


Wednesday, June 04, 2008
To my stalker. :: JadedBeauty :: 3

You’re a moron and a liar.  If I were sober, I wouldn’t even give you the satisfaction of a reply.

I know you met Bridget on POF.  I’m not stupid, so do us all a favor and stop acting like it.

You are a weak, pitiful, sick individual.  You sent porn to my phone, you send texts to which I do not reply, you think that if someone doesn’t want you they must be “hurt and unable to love...” Shall I continue? 

You’re miserable because you cannot stand your own company and you cannot contain your own carnal urges.  You feel that sex is a way to “connect” to other individuals and attempt to use it to forge a bond between yourself and the women you date.

You know nothing about me, so therefore I am fully aware and unsuceptible all of the bullshit that spews from your filthy, deceptive mouth.  Your words are merely conduits… Tools ineptly used to push every button of someone until you figure out the best way to make them tick.  You feel that if you can weasel your pathetic, little way into their minds they will cling to you.  You’re manipulative and conniving, relying only on your own selfish desires to make someone else believe that you are more than what you seem.

All of these lines lead me to believe you feel that if you can convince one lonely girl that she is beautiful, you would no doubt be an abuser....Preying on the very weaknesses you used to gain her trust.

I have shown you nothing, but bitter and true despite, yet you still claim to be “drawn” to me.

I am not Bridget...I am an unwilling participant in a sad game played solely by a vile and deplorable individual.  I pray that she doesn’t offer you the location of my home as easily as she did the numbers to my cell.

You’re a stalker...Hiding behind IP addresses, throwaway Nokias, and meaningless words in attempts to ruin a stranger’s life.  You continue this frightening/maddening charade with me because you know that I have no legal recourse.  I would change my number, but I am hardheaded and I feel that would be letting you win.

I wish you nothing, but trouble and heartache in your future, simply because you have brought it upon yourself.


Friday, May 30, 2008
WTF?!! Roadtrip Edition :: 'mouse :: 4

I can only shake my head with sadness and disgust after the email I just received.

Had dinner with a friend last night.  Their 18-year-old son is going on a road trip to California [from New Mexico] with two friends,and the parents are mother hening them to DEATH about preparation, plans, etc.... It is actually hysterical and would make a great sit com....  What ever happened to getting in the car and just GOING....Like you did, or I did or any number of young people did.... they have a year’s supply of groceries,THREE cell phones, playstation, Ipod, and god knows what else, AND designated place to stay WITH RELATIVES every night for 2 WEEKS.....JESUS!!!! There was a powwow with ALL the parents last weekend where the kids had to present a WRITTEN plan, and get peppered with questions from all the folks.... How EMBARRASSING!!! FOR EVERYBODY!!!! 

[insert your own screaming profanity directed at these so-called parents and their wussy children here—I can’t type any more without my blood pressure going off the charts...]


Thursday, May 22, 2008
Mommy-blogging by proxy :: 'mouse :: 0

Got this email from my friend: 

This morning my 5yo and I were looking at a plate that had pictures of different teapots on it.  I said that one teapot looked like it was from China.  Then she pointed to another teapot and said, “That one looks like it’s from New Jersey.” After I stopped laughing, I asked her if she knew that one of her close family members was from New Jersey.  She said “no,” so I told her, “Grandpa is from New Jersey!” She said, “Oh!  Does he speak New Jersey??” I told her, “Yes, as a matter of fact he does..........”

The only way I could think it would have been any funnier would have been if mom had asked “why do you think it’s from New Jersy?” and the 5yo had responded “‘cuz it’s butt-ugly!”


Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The Secret Parables of Jesus :: Br. Ezra :: 1

One night as Jesus was enjoying a pint of Butt Face Ale his disciples gathered around him asking him to tell them of the world to come.

Jesus respond by telling a parable as was his custom after tossing back a couple of drinks.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a man sitting on the bank of a great river dangling his feet in the cool running water. Suddenly a huge fish leaps from the water and is blown to the bank by a gust of wind. The fish begins to squirm and flop in terror

His two fish buddies swimming along side him are alarmed at their friends’ plight.

“Quickly, we must save Cecil!” They cry.

Both fish leap heroically only to be blown to the bank by a gust of wind, landing with loud thumps. Now all three fish are crying for help as they flop in fishy mortal terror.

“Help! Help!”

“Someone call 911”

“Does any one have a net or cell phone?”

The man awakes from his reverie long enough to remember that he has a net in the basket he brought along with him.

“Have no fear my little fish friends,” he says as he walks over to them in with the net in hand. The fish have little time to thank him as he scoops them up and places them in his basket. That night the man’s family enjoys filets slathered in tartar sauce and lemon served with a green salad and side of pilaf.

The Pharisees, upon hearing this, met secretly to plot against him as they understood the danger of putting their faith in someone who speaks in metaphors and fish tales.


Thursday, May 15, 2008
bob rauschenberg 1925-2008 :: e :: 0

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The archive includes Critics’ Picks, Scene & Herd, news items, and artforum.com features, plus select articles from Artforum dating back to 1963.

Robert Rauschenberg (1925–2008): OBITUARIES

05.13.08

Robert Rauschenberg, the irrepressibly prolific American artist who time and again reshaped art in the twentieth century, died Monday night at age eighty-two, Michael Kimmelman reports for the New York Times. A painter, photographer, printmaker, choreographer, onstage performer, set designer, and, in later years, even a composer, Rauschenberg defied the traditional idea that an artist stick to one medium or style. No American artist, Jasper Johns once said, invented more than Rauschenberg. Johns, John Cage, Merce Cunningham, and Rauschenberg, without sharing the same point of view, collectively defined this new era of experimentation in American culture. Apropos of Rauschenberg, Cage once said, “Beauty is now underfoot wherever we take the trouble to look.” The process—an improvisatory, counterintuitive way of doing things—was always what mattered most to him. “Screwing things up is a virtue,” Rauschenberg said when he was seventy-four. “Being correct is never the point. I have an almost fanatically correct assistant, and by the time she respells my words and corrects my punctuation, I can’t read what I wrote. Being right can stop all the momentum of a very interesting idea.”

In 1964, he toured Europe and Asia with the Merce Cunningham Dance Company, the same year he exhibited at the Whitechapel Gallery in London and the Venice Biennale as the US representative. That sealed his international renown. The Sunday Telegraph in London hailed him as “the most important American artist since Jackson Pollock.’’ He walked off with the international grand prize in Venice, the first modern American to win it. Major exhibitions followed every decade after that, including one at the Pompidou Center in Paris in 1981, another at the Guggenheim in 1997, and yet another that landed at the Metropolitan Museum in 2005.

“I usually work in a direction until I know how to do it, then I stop,” he said in an interview in the giant studio on the island of Captiva, a slender island off Florida’s Gulf coast, in 2000. “At the time that I am bored or understand—I use those words interchangeably—another appetite has formed. A lot of people try to think up ideas. I’m not one. I’d rather accept the irresistible possibilities of what I can’t ignore.”

He added: “Anything you do will be an abuse of somebody else’s aesthetics. I think you’re born an artist or not. I couldn’t have learned it. And I hope I never do because knowing more only encourages your limitations.”

For more, there are obituaries from the Los Angeles Times and The Guardian. (links removed in the copying process)


Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Comment Editing Problem on Scrine :: Keith :: 1

It was always my thought that people had the ability to edit their own comments on Scrine, but apparently something was amiss with the code and things weren’t working right.  Since I still saw the edit button on my own screen, I thought everyone could, but that wasn’t the case.

Anyway, long story short, I updated the site today and hopefully have everything working properly once again.  If you see anything suspicious or broken, let me know.


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