my last day at my full time desk job is the 22nd...fuck to the yes.
also, i want to procure these:
http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8391922209035004504
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
sigh...
after three weeks of being a singer i am back at my desk, staring at my blank walls and wanting to cry. sigh.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
everybody's workin' for the weekend
i will hold on for a few more days so that i can spend three glorious weeks being a singer. sigh. so soon.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
artists without day jobs
what's worse than having a job you hate? not having a job at all. excuse me while i go crush my skull w/a hammer...
Monday, June 29, 2009
new song obsession
human of the year, regina spektor
Hello
Hello
Calling a Carl Prejektorinski to the front of the catherdral.
You have won, dear sir
may i congratulate you first?
Oh what an honour.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Why are you so scared?
You stand there shaking in the pew.
The icons are whispering to you,
they're just old men,
like on the benches in the park,
except their balding spots are glistening with gold.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Ahh ah ah.
You have won.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Outside the cars are beeping out a song just in your honour.
And although they do not know it,
all mankind are now your brothers.
And thus the cathedral had spoken, wishing well to all the sinners.
And with a sigh grew silent.
Until next year's big human winner.
Outside the cars are beeping out a song just in your honour.
And although they do not know it all mankind are now your brothers.
All mankind are now your brothers.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hello
Hello
Calling a Carl Prejektorinski to the front of the catherdral.
You have won.
Hello
Hello
Calling a Carl Prejektorinski to the front of the catherdral.
You have won, dear sir
may i congratulate you first?
Oh what an honour.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Why are you so scared?
You stand there shaking in the pew.
The icons are whispering to you,
they're just old men,
like on the benches in the park,
except their balding spots are glistening with gold.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Human, human of the year, you are.
Ahh ah ah.
You have won.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Outside the cars are beeping out a song just in your honour.
And although they do not know it,
all mankind are now your brothers.
And thus the cathedral had spoken, wishing well to all the sinners.
And with a sigh grew silent.
Until next year's big human winner.
Outside the cars are beeping out a song just in your honour.
And although they do not know it all mankind are now your brothers.
All mankind are now your brothers.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hello
Hello
Calling a Carl Prejektorinski to the front of the catherdral.
You have won.
thinking in song lyrics part 3
get me away from here i'm dying
play me a song to set me free
nobody writes them like they used to
so it may as well be me
here on my own now after hours
here on my own now on a bus
think of it this way
you could either be successful or be us
with our winning smiles, and us
with our catchy tunes, and us
now we're photogenic
you know, we don't stand a chance
oh, i'll settle down with some old story
about a boy who's just like me
thought there was love in everything and everyone
you're so naive
After a while they always get it
They always reach a sorry end
still it was worth it as i turned the pages solemnly, and then
with a winning smile, the boy
with naivety succeeds
at the final moment, i cried
i always cry at endings
oh, that wasn't what i meant to say at all
from where I'm sitting, rain
washing against the lonely tenement
has set my mind to wander
into the windows of my lovers
they never know unless i write
this is no declaration, i just thought i'd let you know goodbye
said the hero in the story
it is mightier than swords
i could kill you sure
but i could only make you cry with these words
(get me away from here i'm dying by belle & sebastian)
play me a song to set me free
nobody writes them like they used to
so it may as well be me
here on my own now after hours
here on my own now on a bus
think of it this way
you could either be successful or be us
with our winning smiles, and us
with our catchy tunes, and us
now we're photogenic
you know, we don't stand a chance
oh, i'll settle down with some old story
about a boy who's just like me
thought there was love in everything and everyone
you're so naive
After a while they always get it
They always reach a sorry end
still it was worth it as i turned the pages solemnly, and then
with a winning smile, the boy
with naivety succeeds
at the final moment, i cried
i always cry at endings
oh, that wasn't what i meant to say at all
from where I'm sitting, rain
washing against the lonely tenement
has set my mind to wander
into the windows of my lovers
they never know unless i write
this is no declaration, i just thought i'd let you know goodbye
said the hero in the story
it is mightier than swords
i could kill you sure
but i could only make you cry with these words
(get me away from here i'm dying by belle & sebastian)
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
ape genius
i love monkeys. this is nothing new. last nite i was fortunate enough to stumble upon "ape genius" on nova on pbs. this shit was AMAZING. you must watch it in it's entirety. but here's a sample to whet your appetite. click here to watch the whole episode.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
robots.
i think a lot about robots. or, more specifically, how little i resemble one.
my employer, henceforth referred to as 'the doctor', seems to disagree.
the doctor believes that the more like a robot i am the better i am as an employee.
there are many indications of his belief. perhaps the most maddening is the fact that he monitors my piss breaks [but not my enormous water and tea intake]. whatever i drink i should have to urinate no more than the setting he has placed me on.
being like a robot, when not on a dancefloor, is virtually impossible for people. all people. but perhaps especially for artists who are working at their art as often as their day jobs enable them to.
point in proof: do robots think about robots? [no.] [unless they are programmed to.]
my employer, henceforth referred to as 'the doctor', seems to disagree.
the doctor believes that the more like a robot i am the better i am as an employee.
there are many indications of his belief. perhaps the most maddening is the fact that he monitors my piss breaks [but not my enormous water and tea intake]. whatever i drink i should have to urinate no more than the setting he has placed me on.
being like a robot, when not on a dancefloor, is virtually impossible for people. all people. but perhaps especially for artists who are working at their art as often as their day jobs enable them to.
point in proof: do robots think about robots? [no.] [unless they are programmed to.]
where do babies come from?
denmark is very socially progressive--the first country to legalize pornography and same-sex unions--so it's fitting that a danish author, per holm knudsen, wrote how a baby is made, an incredibly detailed children's book that depicts penetration and crowning.
check this out!
Monday, June 22, 2009
thinking in song lyrics part 2
i wanna make
something beautiful
for you and from you
to show you
to show you
i adore you
oh you
and your journey
toward me
which I see
and I see
all you push through
mad for you
and because of you
i couldn't thank you in ten thousand years
if I cried ten thousand rivers of tears
ah but you know the soul
and you know what makes it gold
you who give life through blood
blood, blood, blood...
oh I wanna make something
so lovely for you
'cause I promised that's what i'd do for you
with the bible I stole
i know you forgave my soul
because such was my need
on a chronic christmas eve
and I think we're agreed that it
should have been free
and you sang to me
they dress the wounds of my poor people
as though they're nothing
saying "peace"
when there's no peace
they dress the wounds of my poor people
as though they're nothing
saying "peace"
when there's no peace
days without number
days without number
now can a bride forget her jewels
or a maid her ornaments
yet my people forgotten me
days without number
days without number
and in their want
oh in there want
and in their want
who'll dress their wounds
who'll dress their wounds
(something beautiful by sinead o'connor)
something beautiful
for you and from you
to show you
to show you
i adore you
oh you
and your journey
toward me
which I see
and I see
all you push through
mad for you
and because of you
i couldn't thank you in ten thousand years
if I cried ten thousand rivers of tears
ah but you know the soul
and you know what makes it gold
you who give life through blood
blood, blood, blood...
oh I wanna make something
so lovely for you
'cause I promised that's what i'd do for you
with the bible I stole
i know you forgave my soul
because such was my need
on a chronic christmas eve
and I think we're agreed that it
should have been free
and you sang to me
they dress the wounds of my poor people
as though they're nothing
saying "peace"
when there's no peace
they dress the wounds of my poor people
as though they're nothing
saying "peace"
when there's no peace
days without number
days without number
now can a bride forget her jewels
or a maid her ornaments
yet my people forgotten me
days without number
days without number
and in their want
oh in there want
and in their want
who'll dress their wounds
who'll dress their wounds
(something beautiful by sinead o'connor)
monday...
by far the hardest of days. after a weekend of performances in a hotter than hell theatre there is no place i'd rather be right now than sitting in this office. no place. my alarm went off this morning and i popped out of bed as excited as can be at the prospect of another day, another week, of "work." my stomach hurts, my throat hurts, and i'm so beyond tired. and it's not just any monday. it's industry nite! which means after this hellish day is over i head to the theatre for a swealtering performance for an audience of actors! i need mental prep time for that. i need a nice day at home. in bed. sleeping. i work hard. i don't want to "work" too. i'm a generally lazy person w/very little drive when it comes to anything. but i pull my shit together when it comes to being an actor. to have my shit together as office manager in addition is simply asking too much. and i want babies! how the hell am i going to manage that? and who am i to complain? that's really the worst part. the guilt. b/c i am doing what i love. b/c i do have a steady paycheck and the ever elusive key to my life - health insurance. but it doesn't make this day, or any other day, any easier. i recognize that this makes me a horrible, ungrateful person. but it's monday. and i'm miserable.
Friday, June 19, 2009
faces of us
photo campaign dedicated to bringing the fight for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights to the national spotlight.
http://www.thefacesofus.com/
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