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December 16, 2012 · 5:45 pm

Suburban War

Let’s go for a drive
See the town tonight
There’s nothing to do but I’ll unwind when I’m with you

This town’s so strange
They built it to change
And while we’re sleeping all the streets, they rearrange

And my old friends, we were so different then
Before your war against the suburbs began
Before it began

And now the music divides us into tribes
You grew your hair so I grew mine
They said the past won’t rest
Until we jump the fence and leave it behind

And my old friends, I can remember when
You cut your hair
We never saw you again
Now the cities we live in
Could be distant stars
And I search for you
In every passing car

The nights are warm
Yeah, the nights are warm
I’ve been living in the shadows of your song
Living in the shadows of your song

In the suburbs I, I learned to drive
People told me we would never survive
So grab your mother’s keys we leave tonight

You started a war
That you can’t win
They keep erasing all the streets we grew up in

Now the music divides us into tribes
You choose your side I’ll choose my side

All my old friends, they don’t know me now
All my old friends, are staring through me now

All my old friends, wait

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Icky Hate Spiral

You know, this always happens

I get busy, but busy in a really boring way that makes me feel really stupid. Then I don’t blog. Then I feel guilty about not blogging, as I can never seem to maintain any semblance of a blog-type thing. Then something interesting happens, but I’ve neglected my blog and I feel guilty about it and by this time no one probably gives a shit anymore

And so I don’t write about it, which continues the cycle of not talking about anything, which makes me feel more guilty

I don’t know why I feel guilty. Comes with the whole being raised Catholic thing, I guess. And if you think that’s a stupid excuse, you can go ride a bike off a cliff…into a bunch of lava…or something. 

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Brainy Is The New Sexy

I could speak volumes about the first week of the new year, but I can sum up in a few fragments.

New Year’s Eve was David Tennant crazy (with Much Ado About Nothing and Fright Night). Ate homemade bagels and successfully conquered monkey bread with the lovely wife. Car took a shit and died. Got a new car. Had a phone interview for a job. I hope I get it and that they get back to me soon. Sherlock was fucking AWESOME.

And, more importantly, I’ve started my book project. Here we go. Fifty-two books in a year, reading them alphabetically by title. So far,  American Gods by Neil Gaiman going well. Next up is Blindness by José Saramago, and then Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. Past those, I’m still compiling a list of what to read in the coming year. I’ve had some truly interesting recommendations and I intend to check some of them out.

Woo

Maybe when I have the energy, I will post about the whole Steven-Moffat-is-sexist debate that had arisen in the past from Doctor Who and has reared its nasty head once again in light of Irene Adler and Sherlock.

In short, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why it is that when a woman exhibits feelings for guy (a fucking human emotion that both men and women experience), instantly she’s a weak character and the writer is obviously sexist against women. I don’t understand why it’s sexist for the male protagonist to rescue a lady from certain death, especially after she’s saved his ass from being killed twice.

Maybe I’m the one over-simplifying things, but I also think that if you want to label someone as sexist, you can come up with almost any single little action or phrase to prove your point

But that doesn’t make you right. And it doesn’t make him sexist.

 

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Happy Birthday

Like the lantern on a tree
Your burden bright as weary be
Periwig on parakeet
You’re God’s great paramour and sweet

I’m happy, I’m happy
Your birthday brings a pardoning
I’m happy, I’m happy
You’re like a bird that will not be

Yours will number, yours will be
A paragon, a Paraclete
Keep your bed warm, keep your humor
Keep your proverbs short and sweet

I’m sorry, I’m sorry
That life is anxious, life is mean
I’m sorry, I’m sorry
A pair of shoes is what you need

I’m happy, I’m happy
Your birthday brings a pardoning
I’m happy, I’m happy
You’re like a bird that will not be

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“Never really sniffed her. Maybe I should give it a go.”

Sometimes it just feels good to give someone a thorough sniff

*sniiiiiiiff*

Ahhh…

That’s nice

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The First Chapter

This all began with an idea to complete a ridiculous and impossible project

That project being NaNoWriMo

It’s not necessarily the idea of writing a novel in a month that’s so impossible. If you can keep to a rather strict schedule of 2,000 or so words per day, you’ll have yourself a modest, if not sketchy, novel. My problem is that I don’t feel at all qualified to write anything approaching a novel because I hardly set aside time to read. In fact, I really don’t find myself reading at all nowadays. You can try your best to pound out a novel, but it’s truly hard to vomit up something when there’s nothing in your stomach to regurgitate. People sometimes do, but it’s mostly stomach bile and that’s extremely painful and unsatisfying.

And now that I’ve compared writing a book to being sick into a toilet, we can move on to the real reason I’m posting

In place of one impossible project that was barely started before it crashed and burned, I’m taking on another more doable feat

Read 50 books in a year

I’ve heard of the 100 book project, but in all honesty, two books a week seems a little bit silly. To polish off a novel in a matter of three or four days seems to me to defeat the purpose of reading it at all. And I am under no illusions that I could even manage that for an entire year. Perhaps I will find some books to be all-consuming and they will get finished in a couple of days, but surely not all 100. So, a book a week sounds just about right. In the event that I do manage to devour a novel in a short amount of time, I have some back-up Sherlock Holmes to tide me over until it’s time to start the next book

Given my propensity to quit deadline intensive projects like this (or knitting a sixteen foot scarf in two months), it’s entirely possible that I’ll start the first book, get distracted and say to hell with it. But as always, I am optimistic that THIS TIME I will do as planned and complete my goal

Preparing for this has been so exciting. I have a sickening amount of books that I’ve bought on a whim and have never so much as opened to the first page. I have some that I started and never finished, not to mention the millions upon millions of books I have yet to even hear of.

If you feel so inclined as to recommend to me a book or two to add to the list, have at it. I’m open to reading just about anything, save for trashy romance novels and any book that I’ve read before. I do tend to steer toward fiction, but hey, throw some historical non-fiction at me or a good biography. I’m up for anything

I will be starting with The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. From there, I have no idea where I’ll be going. I guess I’ll figure that out as I go

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