HOMe depOt.

first off, i have MANY more pressing things to attend to than the following.  HOWEVER, the following is TOO GOOD to pass up….

now then, read this.  or don’t, and allow me to sum up…  the American Family Association [a harmless name, in itself, if it weren't primarily attached to a rowdy, but small group of people whose focus in life is not-so-much creating family as it is destroying semblances-of.] [[they mostly wear bad ties, sunday dresses and insist on covering walls with floral-print wallpaper.]]  where was i??  oh yes.  the American Family Association [AFA] is requesting a boycott of Home Depot because Home Depot has been promoting the Homosexual Agenda for years!  Why they even set up a kids workshop booth at a pride festival in MAINE!?  [[egad! how appalling!]]

my female-to-male transgendered friend from uni’s parents belonged to AFA and similar.  [at the time, s]he would tell of the boycotts—no levi’s, no disney, etc.  so, this boycott is nothing new or even newsworthy.  [[the home depot will survive without AFA money [besides, the wallpaper selection is crap [which is a GOOD THING]; i don’t see a reason for the AFAers to shop there.]]  The article/plea/banal display of desperation DOES, however, bring up an interesting notion…  one of the biggest DIY/home improvement centres  IS promoting the homosexual agenda!  LIKE TOTALLY!!  i would like to congratulate the American Family Association for finally hitting the nail on the head [look ma!  a pun!]—for correctly defining the Homo-agenda as one being wholeheartedly concerned with wood floors, sleek faucets, gorgeous flowerbeds, eco-safe pest control, DIY furniture projects, makeshift solar pool heaters and only-slightly-overpriced tile.   boycott all ye want, but really….  what dost ye  haveth ‘gainst foxglove and brilliant light fixtures?

hmmm….  i wonder…. since home depot is 1 block away, and i spend nearly half of my monthly dole intake there, and i’m clearly promoting the homosexual agenda, which suggests a political alignment of sorts, given the recent/current climate in the american sphere of such…  can i write-off all my home depot receipts on my taxes as political donation!?

polemical? i’ll give you polemical, mutherfukker…

still have no clue as to what i’ll be playing at friday’s and saturday’s cabaret gigs. the songs i WANT to play, still need to be recorded [and admittedly, lyrics need a li'l fine-tuning as well.] all of which causes me an unfathomable amount of stress [though, really... i DO this to myself and i DO THIS TO MYSELF every freakin' time.]

which is to say, i’m heavily involved in some madarsed procrastination.

the most important of all would be completing the new york times monday crossword puzzle via iPhone application. I am ranked as the 345th best crossword puzzle do-er. and, though that number has a beautiful aesthetic to it, i want to do better. mondays are usually a big boost of confidence. the easiest day, by far, generally. BUT TODAY… 18 minutes into it… [an appalling time for a monday!] [[an appalling time for tuesday-thursday as well!!]] “POLEMICAL” !! ?? !! [wtf!?] “LAMMERMOOR” [[2x wtf!?]]] ugh. gross.

not happy.

i’m now going to procrastinate from this taxing procrastination by working on songs, a vexing endeavor inandof itself.

redemption for a fallen member of “team order.”

I am under the impression that my quality of life would be significantly improved if i were the owner of a laminating machine and neverending supply of adhesive velcro buttons.

hell’s bells

my partner’s [ugh. hate that word.] a packrat, and today he is packratting his still-living-about-to-move-in mum’s hutch into the kitchen/dining room corner. it is making me VERY crabby.

1. the wood doesn’t match any of the several shades of wood in the existing furniture.

2. the decorative moulding is immaculate 1970s country farmwife/what 50yos would inappropriately call, “kitsch.”

3. the display portion, until 15 minutes ago, displayed his mum’s [we'll call them] “collections” [for lack of a better word] of decorative plates, bells, and glass animals, even though his mum does not move in for a couple of months. hubby removed them when faced with my cold, silent, raised-eyebrow glare in response to his, “what do you think?” [[a perceptive packrat!]]

god love ‘im. but seriously… let’s learn the difference between bags-and-post-on-the-table-and-counter clutter and excessive-furniture-and-crappy-knickknacks-that-would-hardly-sell-for-a-dollar-at-a-garage-sale clutter.

[[i won't even mention the grotesquely obtrusive electric can opener and the hot-dog warmer contraption cos then i'd be subject to severe comeuppance for the ugly stash of coffee bins and water bottles next to the kitchen sink.]]

second-sleep, rude awakening.

facebook status updates, quite simply, are not cutting it anymore.

I arrive at this [most-likely overdramatic] conclusion during my daily hour-and-a-half-waking-up—a sluggish process involving using local tv news morning entertainment show/the price is right as a snooze-button of sorts.

I always wake up early, anywhere between 4 and 7 am. this is the initial, biological, LEARNED waking… from years upon years of staying out late and racing to get to work to make scones or sandwiches for privileged people. i, generally, get up. have a slash. drink some juice. go back to bed. have, what i call [thank you, trixie hobbitses speakings], “second-sleep.” it is during this so-called “second-sleep” that i have extremely vivid dreams: today’s involved floating down the amazon with some kind of explorer team who had just lost 2 experienced divers [product of item in this morning's news, though i don't think it happened in the amazon]. we end up [miraculously] in porto velho [[UPRIVER]]. the water is shallow and dirty, but clear. the team abandons me…or change into my aunt, uncle, two of their kids, my mum and my sisters… details are hazy. some toughgirl local who speaks proper queen’s english [[TOTALLY a product from watching "doctor who" last night where the ancient romans have british accents AND "kill bill vol.2" when beatrix kiddo confronts bill's father figure, esteban... the pimp who cuts his bitches' faces when they go wrong. this girl [who, now that i think of it, looks like a cut-up version of that girl who was in "hamlet 2" and now does a garnier fructisse commercial] is like “is this your knife?’ and i look back in the water, lose my family [or the expedition team... still unclear], and say “yes.” [it is my favourite santoku knife!] i snatch it up and return it to its home in it’s duct-taped sheath. the garnier fructisse chick follows me to my hotel. paranoia ensues. yadda yadda yadda. i mistake my little cousin hiding under the cover of bed i just plop myself down upons in an attempt to show my mum that there’s plenty o’room for my sisters who are being forced to stay in the less-than-savvy part of the hotel, for a the little brother/child/spy/DEMON SPAWN of the fructisse lolita. my aunt and uncle and little cousin end up seeing me in my skivvies sporting morning wood. the end.

then i wake up. …then all the price of right contestents on live/re-run tele have overbid whilst the cat has suddenly discovered some new piece of plastic that crinkles with obnoxious sound. [[not the dream. real life.]] SCENE.

now i know i haven’t written in what appears to be the shorter side of forever… and this hardly seems like a brilliant post… nor does it fill you in on my life [short story: moved to st. paul, lived in a state of obscurity, met my [pretty much-]husband, moved in with him, finish losers/weepers album [it's on iTUNES, now, if you're interested], lost job, won the dole, garden-like-crazy, house repairs, watch tele, live as housewife.] but i ask you, how could “…hates is when second-sleep is cut short by overweight americans’ bad estimations, especially when some shit was about to go down in the amazon,” provide an adequate account? how could people not think, “Wha’ the fah’?!”? how would they ever know it was Porto Velho!? [[it sounds like an enchantingly dodgy place.]] facebook status updates not up to par, anymore.

[[and fuck twitter. what robot-band creator calls "an arms race of narcissism." BRILL. WANT THE SHIRT.]]

point is: less f’book updates, more writing. perhaps, in a different schema. cos i KNOW y’all be droolin’ for “The Real Housewives of Bear Country” blog.

we haaaaaave… coooooome…. for liiiiiiiiiiight. [[it's true.]]

it’ll be a new year soon.

so much has changed.

let’s try to make this [updating] more of a habit.

[[lordy, that sounds rather like a resolution; god help us all.]]

afternoon thoughts.

i’m drafting a christmas/birthday list for my mum. it’s filled with somewhat nonsense. all i really want for christmas is to be back in mpls, seward or nordeast neighbourhoods in a house with a functioning kitchen, highpressure shower and people who jump at the opportunity to have a game night; all this debt to be settled up; and a unicorn puppy.

non sequitur: the only use for a microwave [when having a fully functional kitchen], is to reheat coffee. maybe popping a bag of microwave popcorn, should one have that on tap. since i’ve only a conceptual kitchen [and have had such since april 1st [[ANGRY!!!]], the introduction of the microwave has proven to be most-effective in satiating hunger through scarily processed boxed dinners which always seem to be on sale. business idea #7: create organic/sustainable/barely-processed 500calorie boxed dinners. copyrighted. right fucking now.

okej then.

my first entry in decades.

though, many a drafts are awaiting major uploadship.

just a quick note, this one…

so. the guy i’ve been dating and rather driven insane over… [["don't forget to commit me should i be driven crazy over you."]] …and the one that my friends are rather skeptical of… …and the one who makes me end sentences in prepositions, apparently… yeah, him. i’m driving him duluth tomorrow for a doctor appointment [an entirely different entry inandof itself]. we leave early. so i’m staying over for the first time in months. and now taking an enjoying-the-night-air-alone break.

facebook has ruined dating and done wonders for crazy-17yo-girlfriend behaviour strenghtening in only slightly-neurotic-sometimes gay men. [[namely, me.]]

he’s rsvped to a party. no big deal. though, the click-thru will have us note that this is a party designed for meeting new friends and getting dates. speed dating complete with boardgames. [[dreamy!]] however, should i attend, it would be crashing. …and stalking. …and i’m trying to be better than that.

3 hours alone in a car tomorrow. 4 months of dating. i think it’s time cards be thrown faceup upon the table.

[[though, i'll wait until we're within city limits.]]

p.s. i’m still alive.
p.p.s. i’m still recording albums.
p.p.p.s. i’m attempting to participate in NaNoWriMo.
p.p.p.p.s. i’m sorry for not posting more.

bubble, bubble…

toil and whatnot.

MUCH is a-brewing.  simmering, quite antsily as it were, on the backburner.

i reckon it’ll be awesome and smaka så gott.  but, not just yet.

never rush a soup, dahrlink.

superfun distraction.

CREATE YOUR BAND NAME & ALBUM COVER:
To Do This

1 – Go to Wikipedia. Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 – Go to Quotations Page and select “random quotations”
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote on the page is the title of your first album.

3 – Go to Flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 – Use Photoshop or similar to put it all together.

and these are my “side projects”: