Kim's back! Woot!

Tomorrow is the Portland Marathon, the first leg of which runs right past my apartment. I'd watch, but as I said, it's the first leg. The middle and last legs are ever so much more entertaining. Guess why.

Them: Cat, you can't have a hangover. You don't drink.

Me: Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. And quit that damned racket or I'll rip your lungs out.

Reggae Banjo

After 18 months of nagging, Janie managed to get me to a Clumsy Lovers concert.

Opening for the band were a couple of starters: Sugarbeets and Jack Straw. We saw part of the Sugarbeets concert, and weren't impressed. Trying to figure out logistics for our way home, we were talking loudly over the sound of the band. Finally, I said: "Why don't we go talk in the lobby since they suck anyway!" The music stopped on "they." Once we stopped laughing (cackling, howling) over that, we schlepped to the lobby, and a few minutes later to the bar next door to avoid the rest of the openers. I heard Jack Straw was good.

But on to the main course: Clumsy Lovers. There was Ozark, Ireland, Jamaica, and South Africa to be heard in this high-energy quintet. Janie says they were a bit less perky than usual, but I was greatly impressed. Fine, fine musicianship and a show that kept me hopping for two solid hours. Only ten minutes of that was sway pace. Andrea Lewis is a standout on fiddle. Skilled and explosive, we watched her rip through a lot of bow strings. Trevor Rogers plays a mean acoustic lead, switching styles without switching guitars. He's easy on stage and makes a charismatic center. On the occasionally reggae banjo is Brad Gillard, a quiet, intense player who reminds me too damned much of an ex-boyfriend. I kept looking at him funny. Poor thing, it's not his fault. Rounding out the band is the dexterous bass of Chris Jonat and the dependable beat of Devin Rice. Because Janie and her friends are more or less groupies, we stood around with the band for a while after the show. Very pleasant bunch. From Stir It Up to Will The Circle Be Unbroken, this show was a helluva fun time.

Things to know about Portland: first in a series.

The world-famous Oregon Health & Sciences University is on a mount just southwest of the city. The school and attendant hospitals cover the entire area, and the natives call it Pill Hill.

The Net's First Enterprise Slashfic. For all you fans of the already-infamous lube scene.

I was in bed, mind wandering on my way to sleep, when I realized that I'll be 37 in a few days. I found myself choking back tears. I've never before been afraid to get older--in fact I've been pretty oblivious to the aging process, but over the last year I've become aware of my mortality. Aware to the point that I've been readying funeral arrangements and other details so my passing won't be a burden on those left behind. The problem: I don't want to die. There is no comforting afterlife dwelling in my psyche; it isn't part of my mythology. A further problem: I'm not sharing this life as fully as I want to. I want more people in my life. Friends are the mirrors that continue to carry our reflection after we're gone.

I shall now proceed to hug a cat and cry myself to sleep.

Life sucks and then you die. Mew!

Star Trek has a long tradition of great theme songs. May I just take a moment to say the music for Enterprise IS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING AWFUL AND MUST GO AWAY! Good god! Great opening sequences, at least what I could see through my eye-crunching cringe. Fire, fire, FIRE somebody!

Okay, off to watch the rest of the show now.

Snif. Tonight will be the first time I've ever watched a Star Trek premier alone. Kel and I tried to get together, but we're carless and bussing home after 10pm is no fun. I have great memories of parties and friends associated with various premiers and finales. I'll have to do something to make tonight special.

Maybe an ice-cream cake and a gigolo.

The rainy season has begun.

As a child, I remember being antagonistic towards rain, but I loved puddles and thunderstorms. Years and years (and years) in Portland have brought me around. I love this season, when the air is washed and the streets are slick. If you've ever seen this city in the rain, you know there's something about the color scheme that looks most beautiful when it's gray outside. I'm in an awfully good mood. The temperature is more suited to my northern mix of heritage, and I'm feeling perky and productive. The only drawback: I could really use a snuggle-mate. Ah well. Here, kitty kitty kitty...

In a way, I'm upset with myself for not feeling as hurt and upset and devastated as I was last week.

I hear ya (and I'm glad you're back!). Another thing that's been tweaking my guilt-meter: the Gandhi quote. It's driving me batty. It isn't that I don't agree. I'm over my initial angry reaction, and I don't want to go to war. I do think there are better ways to handle this, and ways we could be a more benevolent nation. But that quote is showing up everywhere, and and as much as I appreciate the sentiment and the people espousing it, the repetition cheapens the sentiment. It's becoming a slogan. That's a little too McDonald's for me right now.

The goal of Sundays: to stay pajama-clad as long as possible. This plan is usually thwarted some time in the afternoon by either the need to take the garbage out, or a call from a friend to go have fun. Either is worthy, provided it is after 2pm. I love Sundays.

Just a fiddle player. Isaac Stern dies at 81.

I am not a beauty pageant fan. But hey, it's Miss Oregon, from right here in Portland.

The Paulster just got an overhaul. Snacky new menu system, and his blog is online. There's still a lot of cleanup to do, but with the menu system as an SSI, it will be a lot easier to manage. Oh, yay, Kitty is happy!

Bumper sticker: Got Jesus?

Reply #1: Yeah, I do. Deliver one million dollars in unmarked bills by next Friday or you'll never see him alive again.

Reply #2: I had Jesus, and it took two courses of antibiotics to get rid of it.

Reply #3: I have two. You got an extra Clemens you wanna trade?

By the end of the workday, I want a clean desk, and a clear sense of what I need to do around here. I've mentioned the organization thing before, haven't I? Sigh. Well, I'm feeling better, so I think I can do this thang.

On another front related to feeling better, I must reluctantly admit that I had to dump vegetarianism for now. I got sick. I'm just not great about paying attention to what I eat and remembering to take vitamins. I've been doing both, and I'm perkier. I'll try it again in a few months. I knew when I began that there would be a couple false starts before I got it down.

Last on my list of Things I Should Blog This Morning: Kel took me out on his new boat last night! The river was calm and golden. I said "Woohoo!" a lot. Afterwards, we met Scott for dinner. During the drive home we discussed at some length how good looking Scott is. Scott of course has no bloody clue. I'll have to dig up my favorite picture so everyone can marvel at him.

Ya know, today everyone should just go read Jen. She's spewing everything that's on my mind, and she's saying it better.

Worth repeating. A pilot's instructions to his "family." Via Jason.

I'm thinking: "Yay! There's so much I want to do tomorrow! I can get up and clean the house then I can update that page..." and then I remember it's not Friday. No big deal, you say? I've been doing this all week. I don't know what hurt my brain in this way, but I want it back. I'm stuck in Fridayland.

My friend Van is taking a Flash course. This is one of her first efforts. When she's done, she's going to do a full-length feature of my life story. Okay, that's a lie. My life story wouldn't take more than five minutes to tell.

A good idea from the guy I affectionately call The Blogger King, but never to his face. I've messed and messed with my own image in a feeble attempt to create a characature. I'd love to have one done. Any artists out there up to it? You could get a mighty bunch o' business if you're any good.

I'm a Pastor! Heh, an atheist pastor. I like it. I need to pick up on his listy meme. Maybe later. It'll take me a while to count the number of boys I've kissed. Oh wait, you mean in real life, or in my vivid imagination?

Woo! You go for it! I highly recommend either starting a Yahoo Group to go with the site, or asking permission in an existing group to promote it. Problem with Guy is I think there are already sites out there--so you've got competition. Make friends. Fansite wars are irritating. Have fun!

Okay, I suck, and Reblogger rocks. It was Naughty Nimda.A-mm causing a general net slowing. As anyone who has followed this blog for any time will understand, I am paranoid about comment systems messing with me. But you know what really rocks? When I put Reblogger back on, it put all the comments back too. Yeah.

Noooo! Someone please stop me from buying this.

Reblogger died, and there goes my comment system. Again. I'm getting so fucking sick of this. Will somebody please make something that works, that isn't hosted on your machine?

In an attempt to get back to normal, I'll be hunting for cool links. Modern Living is a set of very odd and entertaining animations.

Kelly comes back from his vacation in BC this week. He's crossing the border back some time this afternoon. I think I just realized how much I missed him.

NEWS (not) FLASH! FRYTOPIA NOW MAC-SAFE!

Yes, I finally dumped the frelling flash menu. I resented it deeply after the first day or so. Now I have killed it. Dead. There are probably broken links all over the place because I'm not so thorough with my own site. Just lemme know. Oh, maccies, update those bookmarks!

"Hi, my name is Jan, I live in San Jose, and my heart hurts." Some things can only be done on the web. This memorial quilt sends messages of love and comfort from all over the country, in streaming video. Via Jason.

Could someone help me wrap my head around this? Both images are amazing, and I know the matter is trivial, but it's bothering me. Take a look at this, which has become the 911 image, then take a look at this, which is from a collection of images by James Nachtwey. I keep trying to reason with my eyes, but it isn't working. Could someone with a better eye and more knowledge of photography come up with an explanation? I'm sure it's just something I don't understand.

"When you think Taliban, think "Nazis." When you think Bin Laden, think "Hitler." And when you think "the people of Afghanistan" think "the Jews in the concentration camps"

Gee whillikers. I put in Reblogger and it appears to be working. As with the last two tries, don't get too attached to the comment feature. If it brings down the site, its out, out, out. But in the meantime, talk to me my loverlies!

I just realized that I'm over being angry. That, as I see it, is a good thing.

The world mourns.

I went to Pioneer Square at noon to see if there was an observance, and to be with the people. There were banners and pens laid out on the ground for Portlanders to send wishes to New York. I signed, but I think I said something trite. I was at a loss.

This was the first time I'd really been in a crowd since 911. Though I've been in my own grief, not once have I thought to buy a flag or wear its colors. Nationalism has always been tough for me to wrap my head around. I don't want to withdraw from the world. This should bring us closer together, not cause Americans to retreat into a jingoist cocoon. In any case, there I was, surrounded by people wearing little flags, and dressed in red, white, and blue. The crowd became thicker as noon approached, and I began to feel uncomfortable. No agoraphobia here, just something wrong. Then it hit me. I scanned the crowd for minutes. It took me quite a while, but I finally found one face darker than Thomas Jefferson's. One, out of hundreds. I was stunned. This wasn't my city. This wasn't even my country. This was White Twilight Zone. Creeped out, I left.

If you love America, BEEP!

Headlines from several news sources at a glance. Very handy. Thanks, Andrew.

Public service message #2: The Nostradamus email is a hoax. If you must forward a hoax during this time of grief, please send this one instead. It's a classic, and everyone could use a good cookie right about now.



If you're looking for an amazing blog on 9/11, here it is. Good job, Mo.

Hon, you had a shitty artist. Find someone else next time. It shouldn't have hurt (especially since it wasn't over the bone), and it sure as hell shouldn't be bleeding all over the place. The guy is a butcher.

I can't believe I'm still full of tears. Just below the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness.

I'm back at work today. A few of the staff are here, preparing to leave in a few minutes for annual training. They'll be gone for the rest of the week, and I'll have the place to myself. Most of them look pretty normal. Smiles are a little more tentative. I'm not like them and I don't know why. Getting breakfast at the federal building next door I could see the guard felt like I did--eyes hollowed out, in grief for his own reasons.

I don't know what my reasons are. I don't know why I feel this way, but I do. I've been through so much in my life; experienced so much loss. It changes me. This has changed me. A key has turned. Perhaps the rest of the world will go back to business as usual, but I will never be the same.

What happens when an entire nation--three hundred million souls--all cry at once? Everyone I've talked to today has cried. I've been crying on and off myself. Quietly. I didn't lose anyone. The walls are thin here, and at least two of my neighbors are in real grief--screaming, sobbing. They've lost someone. But we're all crying. The entire world hears us. Does anyone else?

I can't stop crying. I think that's all I have to say.

Link this page.

Short email exchange regarding the ad:

needhug: ok - silly picture !


me: That was kind of the point. I'm a silly person. :)


needhug: so am i

My weblogger twin is Jish, whom I've always thought was kinda cute. I know I'm supposed to "save my elitist rant", but those bloggers are might pop-yoo-lar. I would like to have found a little-known gem of a twin. But this was fun anyway. Via Paul.

Jerwie has gone from corpse to cowboy. I hate, hate, hate country music. But I still love Jerwie.

Had a fun dream. I decided on the spur of the moment that I wanted to meet some good web friends, so I called my buddy Janie and we got tickets to Chicago. We went over to Paul's place where he was preparing for our arrival. He made way too many sandwiches. We had a great time with him and Jeani, and a bunch of other people. Later that night when everyone else was asleep, Paul, Ryan, and I sat by the window overlooking the park and talked quietly. Melanie Griffith showed up in the park, walking her stupid lion. Of course it ate someone. What is it with Chicagoans and their lions?

Oh, for the curious, I used my standard pic for my ad:

That is exactly the me I want people to see. Fuck eye-pleasing. God I hate games.

Here's a winner with a capital L:

so this actor bumps into an old friend[also an actor]
one day.he says ,guess what?i landed a part in a film.
cool his friend says,tell me about about it.it was
produced by stanely kramer,says the actor.youre
kidding his friend says,the guy who produced' the wild
one 'and 'guess whos coming to dinner?'i thought he
was dead?no says the actor,this is the stanely kramer
from reno,hes produced dinner theatre there for years.
but guess who wrote it?who, says his friend?paul
shrader,says the actor.his friend says ,youre kidding,
THE paul shrader,the guy who wrote 'taxi driver' and '
raging bull?'no says the actor,this paul shrader
writes film reviews for a paper in oregon.but guess
whos staring?who says his friend?marlon brando says
the actor.no way says his friend.the greatest screen
actor of all time?no says the actor,this brando is a
3rd cousin though,he did commercials in ohio for
awhile .but heres the kicker says the actor.we've got
david fincher to direct.wow says the friend,the guy
who directed 'seven' and 'the fight club'?thats right
says the actor,THE david fincher.

The ad has finally gone up. Unfortunately, I'm getting responses. The ones that suck and that I have no intention of answering I will gladly post and ridicule here:

Good luck to you. You should do well in "Potland" with
your taste for the "unusual". Prefer the sudo-
intellecetual blood and guts euro-trash film makers I
see. The pic in your profile really adds the icing to
the cake. No harm ment. However, you might want to
select a bit more "eye pleasing" photo if you continue
this fray into the Yahoo "I need to find a man"
service.

Lots of luck,

gdincb2000

PS: Looked up his profile. AOL account. Suddenly everything becomes clear.

I've spent most of the day trying to re-vamp a site using a find-and-replace utility. Problem is, I did such an incredibly sloppy job on the site originally, it's nearly impossible to accomplish. So, about eight hours later, I've decided to go in to each flipping file and clean it up by hand. PS: It's a big site. Kitty has a headache.

I have to push the pram a lot.

Yep, the fryster was down for a while. According to my host, it was a DoS attack. Whoever you are, YOU SUCK.

WOMEN EMPLOYEES

Submitted by Mary Schweitz

This is an actual reprint of Mass Transportation magazine. During World War II, women began doing what had formerly been considered "man's work," including such things as driving a bus. Here are 11 "helpful tips" for supervisors (male) who found themselves dealing with this new element in the work force.

Eleven Tips on Getting more Efficiency out of Women Employees

There's no longer any question whether transit companies should hire women for jobs formerly held by men. The draft and manpower shortage has settled that point. The important things now are to select the most efficient women available and how to use them to the best advantage. Here are eleven helpful tips on the subject from western properties:

1. Pick young married women. They usually have more of a sense of responsibility than their unmarried sisters. They're less likely to be flirtatious, they need the work or they wouldn't be doing it, they still have the pep and interest go work hard and to deal with the public efficiently.

2. When you have to use older women, try to get ones who have worked outside the home at some time in their lives. Older women who have never contacted the public have a hard time adapting themselves and are inclined to be cantankerous and fussy. It's always well to impress upon older women the importance of friendliness and courtesy.

3. General experience indicates that "husky" girls—those who are just a little on the heavy side—are more even tempered and efficient than their underweight sisters.

4. Retain a physician to give each woman you hire a special physical examination—one covering female conditions. This step not only protects the property against the possibilities of lawsuit, but reveals whether the employee-to-be has any female weaknesses which would make her mentally or physically unfit for the job.

5. Stress at the outset the importance of time—the fact that a minute or two lost here and there makes serious inroads on schedules. Until this point is gotten across, service is likely to be slowed up.

6. Give the female employee a definite day-long schedule of duties so that they'll keep busy without bothering the management for instructions every few minutes. Numerous properties say that women make excellent workers when they have their jobs cut out for them, but that they lack initiative in finding work themselves.

7. Whenever possible, let the inside employee change from one job to another at some time during the day. Women are inclined to be nervous and happier with change.

8. Give every girl an adequate number of rest periods during the day. You have to make some allowances for feminine psychology. A girl has more confidence and is more efficient if she can keep her hair tidied, apply fresh lipstick and wash her hands several times a day.

9. Be tactful when issuing instructions or in making criticisms. Women are often sensitive, they can't shrug off harsh words the way men do. Never ridicule a woman—it breaks her spirit and cuts off her efficiency.

10. Be reasonably considerate about using strong language around women. Even though a girl's husband or father may swear vociferously, she'll grow to dislike a place of business where she hears too much of this.

11. Get enough size variety in operators uniforms so that each girl can have a proper fit. This point can't be stressed too strongly as a means of keeping women happy, according to western properties.
    

Reasons I'm posting a personal ad:

• I was talking with my friend Holly when the subject of blind dates came up (more or less). I explained that those aren't much fun when you're a big girl, because of "the first look" (fat people everywhere just nodded in recognition). I also realized I was full of shit and avoiding the subject. I could date if I were just up front about it.
  
• It's been long enough for me to get over the awkward situation with the accountant from the last time I tried this.
  
• I've really been wanting to meet some new people. Honestly.
  
• I've been celibate for nine fucking years. Okay, eight of them were on purpose, but you get the idea.
  

Ghosts of Mars.

I swear I only heckled once. When Natasha Henstridge says: "It's time we put a stop to this." I couldn't help but reply: "Yes, that would be a very good idea." I said it quietly.

Ever since They Live, I've had a soft spot for John Carpenter. I liked that movie, and it created a positive association where maybe there shouldn't be one. But I'm not going to rake excessively on Ghosts. Here's the thing: it's camp. It had me chuckling all the way through. Okay, I was the only one, but that's beside the point. The silly dialogue, the ludicrous plot devices--Carpenter was obviously provoking the heckler in us all. This movie was custom-made for MST3K. The openings were just too obvious.

If you go, expect a movie that should have gone straight to video. Terrible effects, icky script, ghastly music, and of course people "possessed" by Martians--which is just a cover for JC's zombie fetish. Also expect a couple of characters that you'll actually like, which is more than I can say for some of this year's Summer movies.

And do me a favor--when Ice Cube says the thing about the tide being high and "staying alive", please sing the Bee Gees chorus for me. Quietly.

"David Fincher. Peter Greenaway. Neil Gaiman. Alex Proyas. Matt Johnson. Harlan Ellison. Lars von Trier. Neal Stephenson. Hugo Weaving. M. Night Shyamalan. Of course I don't expect a man to be like these artists--I just expect him to recognize a few of them. Are you in that category? I'm unpretentious and unapologetic. I'd like to meet someone around my own age that has something intelligent to say after a movie. Locals only please--I'm not interested in long-distance anything. I posted my photo, so please send yours. So dazzle me already."

It goes up in a few days. I tremble with anticipation.

Know what I need to do? Get organized. That would change everything. I'd get more done. I'd be happier. I'd be more attractive to the opposite sex. Yeah. Organized.

Wait, wait, wait...I bet they just had the Blogger window open at the same time they were visiting me. Yeah, that's it. I mean, there's no link on that page anyway. Panic averted.

Okay, I just got this in my referrer logs. What I want to know is: who the fuck tried to register frykitty?? I've had this userid since 1995, bucko. Back off.

Jim is back! I'm jealous. Everyone is making their own comment script. Maybe I need to upgrade my service so I can use CGI. Anyway, go see Jim in all his chewy goodness. He promises to update more frequently. Okay, he didn't really, but I'm trying to shame him into it.

Needles.

Eye disease.

Sorry, it's an in-joke. Deal with it.

Just got a birthday reminder from Amazon. I clicked anxiously, wondering who's birthday I'd forgotten this time. Mine, of course. Why, Catherine, your birthday is coming up in less than a month--take advantage of your wishlist! So I did--by deleting it. Gah.

I'm not going to go into great length, except to say that I actually changed my rating upwards after watching the director's commentary on this film. Upon first viewing, it's easy to think this is a dramatic action film that takes a lot of liberties with the facts. Frighteningly, it doesn't take those liberties. Learning the stories behind the film made it doubly fascinating. The film should have been much bigger, but stupid things happen. I recommend it for rental on DVD, as the director's commentary is indispensable. So is the shot of Russell in the black tank as he's walking away from the camera...but that's another matter entirely.

I'm turning off my computer for the day. Maybe a little longer. I'm just trying to hit the reset button in my brain. While I'm gone, go read daCrib. Jigzaw is a delightfully sinister-looking redhead from a land far, far away. But don't let the looks fool you. He's in looooove. It's cute as hell. Also, his design reminds me of that sculpture behind Al Pacino's desk in The Devil's Advocate. So go over there and watch closely, because it could come alive at any time.

Great direction, amazing performances (one of Brando's best, without a doubt), wonderful script. I just didn't like it. Kelly and I were talking in the car on the way home about how neither of us care for films from the 70s. I mentioned anti-art. He mentioned anti-everything, including anti-heroes. I don't know if that's it. Now that I've had a night to sleep on it, the term morally bankrupt comes to mind. Characters with nothing to love. I'm not one of those people who likes everyone she meets, but I can't think of anyone I've met who has nothing to love. That, as I see it, is the problem with so many films from this era. They aimed for reality, but missed it by being too pessimistic. The characters that populate these films don't even make the world more interesting by being sufficiently evil. They don't make the world more or less of anything--they just take up space and irritate the audience.

Tango is a perfect example of the era and the genre. The colors, tones, and characters are the essence of 1973. Beautifully done, but I'm no better or worse--or even more interesting--for having watched it.