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August 27, 2007
Nuaces of language my ass
There's something uniquely refreshing about the first days of school, like new car smell, or a hair cut you really like. You promise yourself that his is going to be the time you stay organized! Keep ontop of homework. Actually crack open that dust gathering lether planner you actually spent 25 dollars on. But we all know the truth. That will never happen. Infact, come three weeks from now my ass will probably be eating bon bons laying on the couch watching Law and Order reruns instead of wasting my gas on silly things like english class. Okay well maybe not bon bons.
Posted by west at 06:46 PM | Comments (1)
New Face
It only took a year for a new layout, but I promised I would eventually. So instead of sleeping the day before fall semester begins, I’m sitting here at four in the morning coding.
I rock hard, don’t I? I’m so fucking out of touch with my coding skills, it’s really sick to think I did this for a living. I’d have maybe vamped up the layout a little more if I could remember anything about style sheets; and if I had my old computer back from the ashes. I don’t have any of my imaging software so if you’re actually spending the time to read this, be warned you’re really looking at stock tile. I’m not going to lie, that would be pointless.
I made nice with one of the friends I had ostracized over the past month. I freaked out on her in Annapolis and took off in my Grand Marquee doing a buck ten down the highway. My ex would have called it a “double x chromosome moment” as I was overly heated and in a “hysterical state”. I think he just likes feeding on his male chauvinist side and emotional fear of estrogen. If any of you gals see him, give him a hug, he could use it.
Anyways, after I left her half crying in the parking lot and spending a week not talking to each other, we met at Renn Fest (see earlier post), and decided all was well, in a very non-eventful way. It was comforting really. She drew me that really cute picture of me. Sooooo fucking talented.
Anon fair readers, I’m off to na-na land. Perchance to dream.
Posted by west at 03:51 AM | Comments (0)
Weighed, Measured, Found Wanting
Christ on a raft eating red beans and rice am I tired. I’m sitting here asking myself if I should even bother writing, fearing a lack of anything substantial to say. Then I realized just who’s brain I was talking about.
My new goal at work is to make one of my managers cry. He’s a hippie vegan guy who listens to bad rap, and it’s fun to pick on him. However analyzing that fact later it just makes me wonder how much longer I’m going to have to spend in hell for my 15 minutes of fun.
My dog is shitting blood. He has something called Addison’s Disease. His glands are shutting down or something.
Renaissance Festival is here. Yes ladies and gents you’ve heard me right, another fall, another season. So far all I’ve managed to do is get rolling drunk while I’m there and spend plenty of cash on things I don’t need.
Yes, I’ll admit it. I’m a closet fairy. Come September I’ll be hanging out with the D&D crowd, dressed in a bodice, watching 14 year olds play magic on pick nick tables, while helping ex boyfriends duct tape their Darcon garb together. It’s an occupational hazard. Here’s me from last season, and no it’s not particularly pretty. An old friend took that for the multimedia class we were it together. He’s like 30 something with a really sweet wife, and we just happened to be in a random class together, as well as work renn fest. He sold knives or something.
Anyways if any of you haven’t made the trip to the fest yet I highly recommend going. Even if your not really lame like me and have spent more money on costuming then your rent, fest is fun and safe for the whole family! Shakespearian shows, jousting, the Royal Court, games, shops, jewelry, armory, elephant rides, horses, candy, fortune telling, rock climbing, wench drenching, singing, belly dancing, acrobats, turkey legs, steak on steaks, popsicle cheesecake, oysters, and most importantly BEER!
…okay so maybe I’m a tad enthusiastic. But it’s hard not to be. So now that I’m done with my little free advertising go check out the website if you havnt already. It’s www.rennfest.com and you can find directions to Crownsville, ticket info, and all that great shit there.
Posted by west at 02:26 AM | Comments (1)
August 25, 2007
Why Sonar Sucks
Ok, so Sonar dosn't really suck, but running into people you knew from a few years ago, who never actually liked you kinda does. You know what I'm talking about. The akward realization that both you and said people recognize one another. The polite, "So what have you been up to?"s, then the silence afterwards that lingers on and on and on.
well not really silence...cause you're at Sonar...and you're pseudo dancing to bad techno at rediculously high decible levels.
Then the question..should I dance next to these people? Do they even want to dance by me? Should I make a b-line for the bathroom?
Well they made the decision for me as they slowley samba'd away from me and the friend I brought with me, closer to the stage. I just stomped out my Newport and soldired on.
I dont know why events like that grate on me, but they do. I dont think people who are like that are healthy for the soul.
From now on I'm only hanging out with people who are healthy for the soul.
Oh, and apparently I'm a slut. :(
Posted by west at 03:50 AM | Comments (1)
August 24, 2007
cotter ain't got shit
You know, I try like hell to get away from it, but somehow I keep getting dragged back to blogging, kicking and screaming. It’s something about the half assed anonymity, the camaraderie of other misunderstood rapidly aging lonely people looking at you on the other end, appreciating your wit on a deeper level that you just know no one else gets, and stroking your ego with appropriately placed comments and shout outs.
Take a deep whiff ladies and gents, I’m about to take a massive shit.
So west is back, god knows if anyone I used to talk to is still out there, but I’ll make the appropriate rounds, donate my thoughts to the right people, and get out there again.
It was my birthday again a few hours ago. As a general rule, year 20 sucks. I’m only…*calculates*…18 hours into it and I could give it up already. Truly. Nothing really remarkable happened while I was 19, what could POSSIBLY happen in year 20? I changed jobs about twelve times, even had a stint as a cocktail waitress, finally stuck with a major (that has nothing to do with art or computers oddly enough), ruined a few friendships and romances, and am here, home, on my birthday staring at this screen at four in the morning. Christ knows what time I’m supposed to be at work.
I work at a record store now. It shall remain nameless but if you’ve lived in Baltimore for more than two days you could probably figure it out.
DAMN I’ve missed this. It’s a character really, so easily do I slip into the persona of west, like an old familiar sweater. Ok, so maybe that was a little too Jane Eyre of me but what ever.
NEWS:
So if anyone keeps up with Red Emma’s Café and Bookstore events you’d know Michael Muhammad Knight and a group of unforgiving Islamic punk rockers came to our great city, basically on a low key press tour to promote Knight’s book, The Blue Eyed Devil, and the Taqwacore Invasion. I went to both the book talk, and a show they did the following night at 2640. I highly recommend Knight’s books, TBED, The Five Percenters, and one I cant remember but am too tired to google right now.
Knight wasn’t what I expected in the least. He was neither a black convert, nor any type of Arab, rather a pseudo punked out white guy, who just happened to be Muslim, and know more about the Islamic history and laws then any religious professor I’ve ever met. The impression that I got off Knight was so easy going; he talked about his pilgrimages across the globe as if he just got up and decided to walk there one day. He makes everything look so blasted easy. As if nothing is impossible. In some ways he seemed touched by God. I wish my aunt could have met him. Maybe she’d think twice about condemning Muslims so quickly.
The kids in the punk bands were being followed around by producers and cameras everywhere. Apparently there’s a documentary being made. I met a few of the musicians first at the book signing, as I lent out about 12 cigarettes to the famished and haggard looking boys. Haphazardly I took names, nationalities, and instruments as they passed my lighter around. There were about 8 of them altogether, and they had piled on a green school bus and driven down from Boston for this tour. They invited me onto the bus and gave me some spray paint to tag the roof of it. They invited me to the show the following night, and joked about me singing Sublime in the intermission. I don’t know why. Knight got onto the tour bus, after I had him sign my book (where he just drew a robot instead of actually writing anything) and I took a few pictures for the documentary.
The show last night was sparsely populated, and more press showed up then anything else. I only hung out for an hour before I bolted after the onset of a head ache. However I did get to hear songs entitled W-AL-QUEDA-MART, Jesus Was Black, and It’s Only Fertilizer.
A pretty entertaining group, and if anyone wants some of the music, let me know.
Posted by west at 04:06 AM | Comments (2)