my life has been subsumed by television, for the most part. oh, the horror, now that i've finally reached the dread grotto of banality; for lo, the next and last stop will be daytime network fare, a maelstrom of judges punch and judy, afroth with the foam of soap operas. intellectual emaciation is my new catchphrase.
i had my first overnight guest wednesday (that's day seven), and we watched some of the futurelovesexsoundslikeabunchofsongsthatotherpeopleprobably thinkarehottofuckto special, until she decided to find out exactly how much people paid to see this shit live. well, the upcoming j.t. show in l.a. has nosebleed seats that start at $100+, and then if you want to sit on a barstool at the end of one of the catwalks and have the opportunity to touch j.t.'s shoe or have him drip sweat on you or something (a la my mom's yanni experience) you can pay $1300. that's right. she decided it had better include a hand job by him as well. you know what else? THERE WAS ONLY ONE OF THOSE SEATS LEFT. i'd extrapolate and try to figure out how much justin timberlake grosses for each show, but i don't feel like math and i would probably rend my garments in fury once i saw the total. if you thought our civilization was doomed for requiring ice sculptures as wet bars at weddings, realizing that people spend this much money for three hours in a giant arena to see a tiny dancing former boy bander won't cheer you up much. we did like all his lushly busty and badonkadonked dancers, though the choreography seemed kind of lewd to me. i must be getting old and prudish.
finally finished re-reading the number of the beast that night too. the last bit with the convention and his "pantheistic solipsism" is rather exhausting if you're contextually rusty and haven't read any other sci fi in a while. "World-as-myth" is an interesting idea, but it seems much more fan-fic, escapist, and a hardy storytellingcrutch convention than an actual stabbing viable worldview. although i wouldn't mind reading someone else's paper that dragged it into context with social networking, mmorpgs, and the hairy pooter, lotr et al., as well as how the converse happens, e.g. simpsons quotes used as conversation. whatever. i can bring the book tomorrow if anyone would like to borrow it.
day eight was sleeping, cookie-baking, and television. buh.
today has been sleeping and internet. whatever happened to my bike riding? i can't function without externally imposed structures dictating goals for me. left to my own devices, i take the role of an audience, not a creator. here's to doing something today! *clinks*
i had my first overnight guest wednesday (that's day seven), and we watched some of the futurelovesexsoundslikeabunchofsongsthatotherpeopleprobably thinkarehottofuckto special, until she decided to find out exactly how much people paid to see this shit live. well, the upcoming j.t. show in l.a. has nosebleed seats that start at $100+, and then if you want to sit on a barstool at the end of one of the catwalks and have the opportunity to touch j.t.'s shoe or have him drip sweat on you or something (a la my mom's yanni experience) you can pay $1300. that's right. she decided it had better include a hand job by him as well. you know what else? THERE WAS ONLY ONE OF THOSE SEATS LEFT. i'd extrapolate and try to figure out how much justin timberlake grosses for each show, but i don't feel like math and i would probably rend my garments in fury once i saw the total. if you thought our civilization was doomed for requiring ice sculptures as wet bars at weddings, realizing that people spend this much money for three hours in a giant arena to see a tiny dancing former boy bander won't cheer you up much. we did like all his lushly busty and badonkadonked dancers, though the choreography seemed kind of lewd to me. i must be getting old and prudish.
finally finished re-reading the number of the beast that night too. the last bit with the convention and his "pantheistic solipsism" is rather exhausting if you're contextually rusty and haven't read any other sci fi in a while. "World-as-myth" is an interesting idea, but it seems much more fan-fic, escapist, and a hardy storytelling
day eight was sleeping, cookie-baking, and television. buh.
today has been sleeping and internet. whatever happened to my bike riding? i can't function without externally imposed structures dictating goals for me. left to my own devices, i take the role of an audience, not a creator. here's to doing something today! *clinks*
1 comment:
We are still in negotiations for going out tonight, but if I show up, I would love to borrow the heinlein book. Oz? Redheads? I'm in!
Also, I just started Galactic Patrol book. Do you want the first two back, or were they throwaways?
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