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March 2003

the rest of march, 2003

i decided to put it all into one post. it's not like it's relevant or interesting. i just have the need to catalog it all in one place. it would be weird stuff to read from the bottom up. someday, all the links will be restored. that will please me.


March 12, 2003

I have actually been getting some responses regarding this silly page. Maybe I'll get even more when I bother to add metatags and register somewhere or other. So, I was thinking I could do like at blogger sites, and allow space in the right column for comments on my blather, since i'm putting the images on separate pages now. You can click on the sun to the right of the current column to send me a message, and let me know if you want me to share some of it with the world at-large! I won't add your real name unless you desire it.

March 17, 2003

I've been sick with sort of a bad cold. it's really annoying. and it's a bit difficult to be silly today, as things are stirring up around the world. I am not a paying-attention-to-the-rest-of-the-world kind of soul, but I would feel like a crud for completely ignoring it just now. so i've been planning to institute a Song of the Day, after realizing there was no way I could make a favorites list that would be comprehensive enough to include everything i like and appreciate, and I was going to start with Life in the Fast Lane, by The Eagles, but i think i will leave that to another day, and begin with something that might seem a little trite, but what the hey? (Educational Clarification: Iraqis are Not Arabs. but they do have sand. )

"Killing An Arab" (The Cure-Boys Don't Cry, 1979)

Standing on the beach
With a gun in my hand
Staring at the sea
Staring at the sand
Staring down the barrel
At the Arab on the ground
I can see his open mouth
But I hear no sound

I'm alive
I'm dead
I'm the stranger
Killing an Arab

I can turn
And walk away
Or I can fire the gun
Staring at the sky
Staring at the sun
Whichever I chose
It amounts to the same
Absolutely nothing

I'm alive
I'm dead
I'm the stranger
Killing an Arab

I feel the steel butt jump
Smooth in my hand
Staring at the sea
Staring at the sand
Staring at myself
Reflected in the eyes
Of the dead man on the beach
The dead man on the beach

I'm alive
I'm dead
I'm the stranger
Killing an Arab


March 18

when i was a child, back in the glamorous polyester world of the 1970s, it was a standard pasttime among the youth of my acquaintance to speculate over which songs contained drug-related or sexually overt lyrics. some songs required no speculation, of course, other than a discussion of which terms meant what, and did the singer have first-hand knowledge of what he sang? others took a bit of effort, time, research to yield their recondite reward. i was quite proud of my ability to deconstruct the story behind Blinded by the Light, by Manfred Mann, when i was in the 5th grade, though, interestingly, other kids tended not to believe what i told them. (yes, I know Bruce did it first, but it wasn't his hit.)

Life in the Fast Lane required no deconstruction or speculation. but even though i had, and have, a horror of the wicked illicit drugs that were part of the chic world during that time, the song has always fascinated me. plus, it has a really cool guitar line. here's a stanza:

Glowing and burning blinded by thirst
They didn't see the stop sign - Took a turn for the worse
She said, 'Listen baby. You can hear the engine rev.
'We've been up and down this highway, haven't seen a goddamn thing.'
He said, 'Call the doctor. I think I'm gonna crash.'
'The doctor say he's coming but you gotta pay in cash.'
They were rushing down that freeway, Messed around and got lost
They didn't care they were just dying to get off and it was

Life in the fast lane - Surely make you lose your mind
Life in the fast lane - Life in the fast lane
Everything all the time - Life in the fast lane


March 19-ish, 2003

i've had enough of grandiose pronouncements made by twaddling fools who believe that the world is either coming to an end courtesy of George W. Bush, the man they say they didn't elect, or that we are at the dawn of an era of peace and goodwill throughout the Middle East. whatever. listen to the Tao, if you dare. it says, as always, "none of the above." just be, dude.

i am in a light-hearted mood for some reason. sure, war sucks, but i feel like the humidity has been climbing for weeks and weeks and now it's starting to rain. could be a storm later, with some flooding, maybe a fire or two, maybe not. who's to say?

it did totally suck the way our local (well, NYC:WPIX Channel 11) Fox station cut out the last 5 minutes of Angel to show us an empty sky in Iraq and tell us nothing. hello? people watching Angel just saw him get his soul back again. the non-news could have waited just a bit longer. besides, target news audience? not watching Angel anyway. and Angel watchers who did want news had their laptops open, and weren't looking for Fox to interrupt a halfway decent episode of one of their favorite shows. i downloaded the episode, but turned out to be .avi file. not really Macintosh-friendly.

on other subjects,

Bruce Springsteen is really poetic at times. look at this:

"sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my soul."

I wish i had written that. lala-lala-lah-lah. (I'm on Fire lyrics, from Born in the U.S.A., not really my kind of thing, but a good album of its kind.)

see there is a somewhat fine line between gutsy emotion and melodramatic dross. i think the Bruce went the right direction with this one.

the Tao says: Beyond the gate of experience flows the Way,
Which is ever greater and more subtle than the world.


March 22

This ain't no party, this ain't no disco
this ain't no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain't got time for that now
(Life in Wartime/Fear of Music, 1979)

i regret never having seen Talking Heads in concert. so i'm having a TH lyric review today, instead of one particular song. Here are a couple more excerpts.


Down, down in the basement
We hear the sound of machines
I, I, I'm driving in circles
Come to my senses sometimes
Why, why, why, why start it over?
Nothing was lost, everthing's free
I don't care how impossible it seems
(Girlfriend is Better/Speaking in Tongues, 1983)


And she was lying in the grass
And she could hear the highway breathing
And she could see a nearby factory
She's making sure she is not dreaming
See the lights of a neighbor's house
Now she's starting to rise
Take a minute to concentrate
And she opens up her eyes

The world was moving and she was right there with it (and she was)
The world was moving she was floating above it (and she was) and she was
(And She Was/Little Creatures, 1985)

it's a nice day; i'm going outside.


March 23, 2003

HERE'S WHERE THE STORY ENDS by the Sundays,
from Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, 1990 (one of my favorite albums of EVER.)

people I know places I go
make me feel tongue tied
I can see how people look down
they're on the inside

here's where the story ends

people I see, weary of me
showing my good side
I can see how people look down
I'm on the outside

here's where the story ends
ooh here's where the story ends

it's that little souvenir of a terrible year
which makes my eyes feel sore
oh I never should have said the books that you read
were all I loved you for
it's that little souvenir of a terrible year
which makes me wonder why
& it's the memories of the shed that make me turn red
surprise surprise surprise

crazy I know, places I go
make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down
I'm on the outside

oh here's where the story ends
ooh here's where the story ends

March 24

tomorrow the blog gets a new page! for now, here's a comment i got regarding the lyrics for Blinded by the Light:

Not sure if I should be happy I don't quite get the story behind the lyrics to Blinded by the Light, or feel really stupid. Heaven knows I've had my day, in the day, with illicit drugs, but darn it all, I never got to learn (let alone use) the lingo. I just lived and thankfully, learned!
Please share...

as far as i can see, those lyrics are Bruce's clever, stream-of-conscious-y metaphors for drug and street life. you can pick out references to prostitution, dealing, police, etc., and some of the terms are old ones that people might be more familiar with at another time. but it's also kind of random, as you could probably guess...

i'm not putting the lyrics on here, but today's song is my All-Time Favorite Disco Song:

Anybody Wanna Party, by Gloria Gaynor. i drove my mother crazy playing it 10 or 20 times in a row. i can still play it over and over again if i am in the car alone. it's really just that cool.


March 30

okay, not tomorrow. things got weird this week. so the next tomorrow will have to do.

Today is my dad's birthday. i don't like not being able to see him ever. it's sort of depressing. and money? not there. so a real gift is not part of the picture. i never know what to buy people anyway, after they reach a certain age. gift certificates, i guess. or a hat or food. but anyway, here's a little tribute to my dad, who entered this realm on March 30, 1932, and i, for one, am glad he did, and glad that he's still here.


holodeck list #1

March 10

i love making lists, but then they seem so unsatisfying afterwards. they're exciting and inspiring while i'm making them, then all i can think of is who or what i left out, how i could get more out of the experience, is it inspiring to someone else, or only me?

so, yes, a one night stand on the holodeck, as opposed to anything approaching, say, a meaningful relationship based on reality. totally different vibe, totally different set of blokes. men i'd pretend to have something ongoing with would have more stringent requirements, in a whole range of categories.

here's my top ten. wait, does that seem sorta skanky? like i chose just a few out of this whole crowd of fictional sex partners i'm clammering for? cause, hello, fiction. that really is the point. i'd never be jaded or whatever people are when they do this sort of thing for real. and some of these men are actually figments of the imagination, so, pretty safe there.

as far as these one-night stands are concerned, i didn't go too far back in time, because it somehow felt unclean. so that makes me think there should be a historical one-night stand list as well, separate from the other one. maybe a list should have more consistency: i mixed both real and fictional, dead and still living. on the other hand, that is why it is the top ten. a sort of K-Tel compilation of men.

Mer's Current Top Ten List of "I Brought Him Home From the Holodeck Bar" one-night stands:

10. Dean Martin
9. Fox Mulder
8. Agent Dale Cooper
7. Bobby Darin
6. Bruce Wayne, as portrayed by Michael Keaton
5. Mark Darcy, from Bridget Jones' Diary (book, not movie. Colin Firth characters themselves would probably belong on the 'other' list. )
4. Steve Martin
3. John Cusack
2. James Bond (as played by Sean Connery, not the book character, and not any other actor.)
1. Robert Smith, of the Cure

okay, it's been pointed out to me that a number of these men smoke. well, duh, 24th century holodeck; no longer a concern. plus, this is why they are on the one-time only list, as opposed to the more long-term kind of thing.


he ain't heavy

March 9, 2003

Late winter life is always chronically dull. i bought pants yesterday. and i tried to shop for underwear online, but that doesn't work very well. bit difficult to sort out the retail sites from support groups for Men Who Wear Panties. and the underwear i did find was absurdly expensive. can anyone tell me why one would pay 65 dollars for a single pair of panties? they weren't even 100 percent any sort of fabric. even the less expensive stuff was more than i paid for the new pants. and unless i am wearing one of my thrift store outfits, i want the clothes that are not seen to cost less than the ones that are.

So i was talking to my brother for the first time in a few years; he says he models for college art classes, and i was glad to hear he's still skinny. in my experience, the models provided tend to be more Rubenesque than um, Van Dyck-esque. it must be a nice change of pace for the students. more of a challenge, looking for curves and shadows and things. but i couldn't be one of those models. you have to be very still, and i don't think you get to read or anything to keep your mind off moving around. i don't know if it's more difficult for women to do this modelling, what with the whole "is my body good enough?" issue that drives us all mad, but i imagine it's harder to draw men. i guess it depends on your age, though.

I used to think that women were prettier to look at and i assumed everyone else thought so as well. men had harsh-to-look-at hidden places. but now i tend to see them as more vulnerable and that can be quite endearing. women have so much going on inside their bodies all the time, and we follow a nearly daily schedule all through our lives because of this. i see that as a strength rather than a weakness. (of course, it's why we're conflicted about our weight and breast size and so on. we know we're all right, but we still feel judged sometimes, and have to remind ourselves to ignore that.)

But i think men don't feel the same utilitarian pride in their bodies, which may be why so many get focused on bodybuilding and so forth or else they just let it all go entirely. they're not very balanced, either of these types of men. so i really enjoy seeing one who's comfortable in his skin, walking up 6th avenue, taking life in stride. and i can be induced to picture him unclothed. AACKK!!as long as he's not my brother!


won't you be my neighbor?

March 1, 2003

I've been focusing on people other than myself this week. it's both rewarding and disconcerting. and then Mister Rogers died. At first i was gonna do a whole tribute to him, but i was asking around, and it seems that other people i know think he was strange, and that this somehow matters. Anyway, a tribute from just me would be too tragic, but i am bummed about how all my childhood icons are passing away: over the past year, Dee Dee Ramone, Darrell Porter, Joe Strummer and now Fred Rogers. Okay, so I loved Mister Rogers at least 10 years before i knew any of the others existed, but he's still part of the group.

I don't feel much like talking about him right now, but i loved watching Lynn Swan practice ballet, i loved watching milk pour, i loved Handyman Negri, and i loved those old sweaters and sneakers! I LOVED THE TRAIN THAT TOOK ME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF MAKE-BELIEVE!! Goodbye, Mister Rogers. maybe you and Captain Kangaroo and Shari Lewis can entertain me again in some other lifetime...

I updated the poetry, so now there's a link to new stuff. And i am working on my date stories, but this whole altruistic "give of myself" thing sort of got in the way of that. The Lupin story is coming forward slowly, and i am working on Picard and Giles as well.