Double Jeopardy

The Supreme Court ruled against the standard that people suing their employers for age discrimination had to prove that the discrimination was intentional.

So here's a scenario. What if last year, an old discriminated man lost his court case because he couldn't prove that his employer was doing it intentionally? Would he be able to get redress this year, under the new ruling? If so, would it go against our double jeopardy amendment?

The Lucky Stars

A hillbilly band, I think, nestled somewhere in the armpit of LA.

"It's all your fault if I'm a grandpa
And my grandkids don't call you grandma
I'll just tell them it's all your fault"

There's a song I'll never hear again. It was recorded live at a college radio station, and no other copy is available, as far as I know. Lucky break I heard it when I did.

I just realized why, with my music tastes being as specific as they are, I like Dixieland jazz: it's totally one stage before hillbilly rock, which is then a short step away from Chuck Berry and AC/DC. Dixieland, in turn, opened my ears more toward other kinds of jazz.

Life Lesson

For a long, long time, a friend was holding onto an outdated look, like a burr. Some thought she would look much cuter if she changed it up a bit, but no one had the heart to tell her so.

I'm ashamed to say that I always thought it was a pet vanity of hers. It turns out I was wrong; she was always open to change, but just wanted a little advice. It was a big step for her.

I know there's a lesson to be learned here, if I can find it. I think it might have something to do with judging everyone else as if they thought like me. Just because I'm a conglomeration of stupid little pet vanities is no reason to assume that everyone else is, too.

Sagittarius

I am a big, big fan of the Onion's astrologer.

"You'll find it hard to live a normal life for the next couple months, during which it will suddenly and inexplicably become fashionable to jump motorcycles over you."

Ha!

Carl's Jr.

Just when I thought they couldn't get grosser...

I was never a fan of Carl's. I always thought their food was overkill. The Bacon Western Cheeseburger, for instance; not only a big heavy hamburger, but with cheese on top of that, and the breaded and fried onion rings on top of THAT that was just too much.

Last month, I walked by the Carl's at the airport and saw them featuring the Pastrami Burger. Urggggh. There is no reason why you should pile a pastrami sandwich on top of a hamburger, all while squishing out any hint of vegetable that isn't pickled or fried.

I thought that was rock bottom. I was wrong!

Today I walked by the same Carl's Jr. and saw the Breakfast Burger. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns (?!! yuck!) all topped by...you got it, a big fat chunk of hamburger meat.

Oh the humanity! When will it stop?

The Notebook, Three's Company

Yes, it was a tear-jerker. No, nothing happens. Just your standard boy-meets-girl story, nothing original, no valid reason, really, why you should see it, but goddammit they know which heartstrings to pull and they pull them shamelessly.

Noah (Ryan Gosling): used to work with my frosh RA/former teen idol Kyle A on TV - therefore I'm friends with him by two degrees of separation!

Allie (Rachel MacAdams): has one too many precancerous-looking moles on her face and body, would advise against the close-ups and nekkid scenes (1 point minus column); however! played Regina George in Mean Girls (1 point plus column).

* * *

Larry: Martha! What a lovely name. It makes one think of vineyards.

Yo Mama Joke

For some reason I just thought of an old favorite that I've forgotten for a while.

Yo mama's so fat she puts runs in her jeans.

Garden State

Overrated. Overbearing. Nothing happened that wasn't just made up in your head.

Mary Jane

A conversation I had this morning.

Alex: I pretty much disliked Mary Jane from the start. [Reels off a list of grievances, like she postures too much about how great of a Latin scholar she is (I definitely had to concur there), and she's frivolous.]
Rex: I don't know if I could hold that against her.
Alex: And did you notice how she flirts with everyone? A bunch of people made some comments about that.
Rex: Really? I guess I missed it. But I flirt with everyone too.
Alex: Yeah, but you're Californian.

Yes. I'm Californian. What a cryptic remark.

Mr. Brightside

I know this is stupid, but I'm a big fan of the new Killers video. The visual theme is stunning. Gaudy, lurid, elegant - the style I love. Beautiful palette. Too bad the Killers' frontman looks like the world's most gianormous prick. I bet all the kids in school longed to rain noogies on his head.

I'm a big fan of the new Usher video, too. Wow! The dude's got moves. Too bad the little weasel's a cheater.

Schmoozing

I'm getting tired of it. And I get more suck ass at it with each passing day.

I missed the OC again this week. I can't wait til next week, when I'm back at school and I can hang with those Thursday OC parties again. I'm watching As Good As It Gets on TV as I'm trying to fall asleep. I love that movie! The dog is the impetus for a mean old man growing a heart - just as a dog should be.

He's a Poet!

we outlaws
let me ride
until I get free
I live my life in tha fast lane
got police chasen me

I was always a little confused when people swore that 2Pac was a poet. I knew he was good, even before I was a fan, but there's such a thing as an overstatement. Is it even possible to say "got police chasen me" with a straight face, and still be taken seriously?

But this weekend, I had the surprising experience of taking the opposite position in a 2Pac debate - with a fellow metalhead, of all people. Metalheads are so rare these days that when two of them meet, it's an unspoken rule of etiquette for them to agree with each other and validate their beliefs.

What happened in the interim? Do I now think that 2Pac is a poet? Not exactly...I still maintain that "got police chasen me" is a hilarious line. But the man's blue streak is nothing less than lyrical. You can't help but tip your hat to that kind of ability to say things that should sound dirty and offensive, but instead come off as pretty natural. Furthermore, the vocabulary was way ahead of its time (at least to me; maybe not to people who are more hip).

Thus, I'm more likely to categorize the post-incarcertation thug life songs as poetry than the socially-conscious ones. It's a revolution of language.

My fellow metalhead said that 2Pac was hypocritical for rapping all this stuff about social change, and then going out and beating women. True, I answered, but nobody's perfect. But like I said, I think that for me personally, the language was more poetry than the message. Not that I'm underrating the message; it's great, but yeah, a little messier.

The best analogy: Walt Whitman. Natural language; a celebration of his own real life on a heroic scale; personal issues in conflict with his art. Literary historians think it's a feat that Whitman was able to map out the American landscape like he did. I say that if you can put a town like Sacramento on the map, your artistic merits have earned a place in history.

My Cab Driver

in Ann Arbor went to high school with Andrew WK. He said that Andrew WK used to be one of those smart-ass kids who was always trying to be smarter than the teacher. He must have been kinda geeky, though I imagine he would have had enough sense not to show it. Geek/cynic turned rocker/Pollyanna. The world is a beautiful place!

Andrew WK was having a Q&A session at the U of Michigan two days before I got there. The Hells were in Austin a week before I'm getting there. Criminy!

A Winter's Tale: "that which is lost"

"Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found."

As she might have done
So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood,
Even with such life of majesty - warm life,
As now it coldly stands - when I first wooed her!
I am ashamed. Does not the stone rebuke me
For being more stone than it?...

Let be, let be.
Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already -

Oh sweet Paulina,
Make me to think so twenty years together!
No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness. Let't alone.

50 Cent's Spring Break Candy Shop

I just saw an MTV spring break show, basically an exploitation contest to find the next G-Unit Girl. Challenges include looking good in skimpy clothes, singing G-Unit lyrics while dancing around in a bikini, and rolling around in mud in a bikini. The winner gets to hang out with G-Unit for the night at a club.

Here's an another way you can hang out with G-Unit for the night at a club: show up at the club.

No

I didn't finish my paper. I took an incomplete instead. I know, pending disaster. Well, such is the nature of the mortgage. I took the draft off my blog and copied it onto a real back-up disk, like a normal person. Lest I lose my readership of 3.

I think I'm going to have to go to Michigan, which just about terrifies me. Who knew I could have a culture shock in my own country (not counting the south)? I definitely was NOT expecting it. Talk about Abercrombie attack! You'd think it were a myth, some made-up media fantasy about Germanic-flavored collegiate boys that play squash and hunt, oh I don't know, moose. But it's all, all too true. Meat and potatoes, corn-fed good nature, early-death diet; not a bean sprout or a hippie in sight. I think I'll feel lonely here and expatriated from my beautiful sun and my cool Pacific and those androgynous men, and ethnic people; and I'll miss my friends, as I never did before when I was in transitional moments, because I've come to depend on friends like I've always depended on family. That having been said, I do feel at home among the people in my academic program. Liberal, intellectual, down-to-earth, funny: it's the closest possible thing to what I have now, except better.

Prof. Ruth S told us a funny thing her brother said about Ann Arbor: "bourgeois paradise." He said this when he visited a state-subsidized water park that was frequented by everyone, from the most spoiled teenagers to the poorest street thugs. It was sqeaky clean in a surreal way, a la Disneyland, but because the admission rate was so cheap, there was also a populist vibe to the place. "Perfect for leftist academic types," remarked one professor.

Personal Platonism

For me, the Form of good rock n roll is Guns N' Roses. This is what music should sound like. All other good music - even in different genres - are derivations, while all bad music are corruptions. Once upon a time, I locked in on the arena rock element (a la the Illusions) and traced it in the grandiosity of Dream Theater; then the thrash (You Could Be Mine), hence Megadeth; then AC/DC (obviously); then the ambience (The Garden), hence Type O Negative; and now, finally, the punk, hence the Ramones. Then the Ramones kinda went on to become a Form of their own...

Does that negate the very theory of the Forms? I hope not. Appetite for Destruction has always been my alpha and my omega.

For me, the Form of the Dog is the yellow labrador. Floppy ears, big-ish size, short hair, personality. Chocolate labs come close, but their dark color hides the soulful dog-eyes that are central to the dog-image. German shepherds are too wolf-like; Pomeranians too toy-like; golden retrievers too glamorous; yappy dogs too yappy. As Da P would say, "You might as well be a cat."

Why am I constantly blogging? Alas I have a paper to write!

The Tango of Seduction

from Monkey Business.

[Zeppo sees Mary walking by. He runs up beside her and links her arm.]
Zeppo: You know, there's some mighty pretty country around here. I've -
Mary: I beg your pardon. [Disengages arm and walks away.]
Zeppo [throws his handkerchief in front of Mary]: Pardon me. [Picks it up.] Is this yours?
Mary: Why no. [Continues walking.]
Zeppo [taps her arm]: You sure?
Mary: I'm positive.
[Continues walking, smiling. Drops her own handkerchief. Looks back; eyes meet. Mary picks up handkerchief.]
Is this yours?
Zeppo: Yes, it is. [Links arms.] As I was saying there's some mighty beautiful country around here.
Mary: The trees are lovely.
Zeppo: You bet they are! I love them.

Kids These Days

Back in the day we used to call them fuckbuddies. Now they're just called ex's.

In the Year 2000

We will finally learn what makes French vanilla ice cream different from regular vanilla ice cream- cowardice.

Something of Substance?

Yeah, so I'm pretty cut off from the outside world. But I try. So:

Berlusconi. Everyone seems to know that he's an asshole. I understand he's a bit of a fascist, a perpetrator of censorship to some degree. Italians hate him. When Italians start to give Americans crap about Dubya, we retort, "But you've got Berlusconi," and they agree sheepishly.

When I read the news on Berlusconi - like recently the pressures for him to remove troops from Iraq - it seems that his gravest fault is being an American puppet, more so than any fascist leanings; the Italians' answer to Tony Blair, if you will. If this is the case, Americans shouldn't hate Berlusconi, right? Even many leftist Americans derided the French for refusing to support the war, while they scoffed less venomously at Blair for not refusing. But maybe that's just because French cowardice is so easy to mock.

On the other hand, I'm getting most of my information from the media, which is exactly what Berlusconi controls on the Italian side, I hear. But why would he WANT to portray himself as an American puppet, of all things?

I don't really know what's going on at all.

Diary.

1. Latin final. Ovid's Metamorphoses.
2. Lunch with Julia H and Brett R.
3. I must watch Hedwig and the Angry Inch: rock n roll! Rocky Horror is just Sound of Music in drag.
4. How long had that rice kernel adhered to my chin, unbeknownst to me?
5. Biblioteca.
6. Answered Prof. Susan S's all-humorous email: How is your paper going? A noble feat of fiction, rewarded by
7. a viewing of the first part of Monkey Business, which I missed last week.
8. Nodded off to sleep. Delicious.
9. How about that paper? Ech.
10. All the good ones, minus myself and my single friends, are taken. Still, one should not settle. I know that my single friends are single because they are so overwhelmingly awesome, too cool for any ole schmuck; thus me also. I think I've settled more often than not, hence my disasters.
11. Paper thoughts. Internal weeping, just a little bit. Blog.
12. Out of fruit, out of fruit-juice. The body cries out for Whole Foods.
13. Happy Donuts tonight. You think it's easy getting portly? No sir, it takes effort!
14. Sometime somehow I need to go back to the library.

Choices, Consequences

Calvin:     Hobbes, what do you think happens to us when we die?
Hobbes:   I think we play saxophone for an all-girl cabaret in New Orleans.
Calvin:     So you believe in heaven?
Hobbes:   Call it what you like.

A Man Young and Old

I. First Love

...
She smiled and that transfigured me
And left me but a lout,
Maundering here, and maundering there,
Emptier of thought
Than the heavenly circuit of its stars
When the moon sails out.

* * *

Unless the woman-figure here is a metaphor for something other than a real-life lover, like inspiration or something just as solipsistic, I don't agree with its proposition. I've been "emptier of thought" since I stopped thinking about Asshole #1, and I know this because the quality of my blog has taken a plunge recently. I hate for that to happen, I want each post to be better than the one before it! And so I quote. (Too bad they can't all be Andrew WK.)

Would I rather be miserable again? Never, never, never, never, never. It's better this way.

* * *

V. The Empty Cup

A crazy man that found a cup,
When all but dead of thirst,
Hardly dared to wet his mouth
Imagining, moon-accursed,
That another mouthful
And his beating heart would burst.
October last I found it too
But found it dry as bone,
And for that reason am I crazed
And my sleep is gone.

I Believe in Love at First Sight

and I also believe in the contrafactual, not-love at first sight.

Fascinoma

I saw a great band play tonight in Highland Park, and now I can tell you that I heard them first. It was really, really good. I was able to get into them even though I didn't know their music beforehand - something that doesn't happen too often. Afterwards I went out for Japanese food with the singer/guitarist, drummer, their kid brother Paul L, and Paul's old friend and my new friend Dan S. Good times! It's such a pity that I spent one very wonderful evening with people I'll probably never see again. Chance, and life - they're so strange. "All we are is dust in the wind, dude. Dust. Wind. Dude."

Speaking of chance, I passed my French exam!! I got a B, surely a mistake. Someone upstairs loves me. Let sleeping dogs lie.

Deep Springs College

There's a small, all-boys college in the middle of California near Bishop that is a trip. The program lasts for two years, and each year they admit a class of 13 students, from an applicant pool of about 150, which they pick after a gruelling process of 4-day interviews. Classes include horseback riding, crocheting, and making sourdough. Like many all-boys institutions, the environment is slightly homoerotic - in an aggressive, hierarchical kind of way.

Making sourdough is a fascinating progress. Quality varies according to the kind of bacteria you catch in those first few days. What happens, apparently, is that you catch bacteria with something like beer or crushed grapes, and then other strains try to move in, and they fight for dominance until the culture stabilizes. Some strains have been kept alive for 500 years, brought over from Europe and cultivated through the generations; these cultures are high-quality and very stable. It is possible to breed different lines of high-quality sourdough cultures in order to arrive at an even prouder genealogy.

That's all for now. I'll try to find out more, as I'm sure you're itching to start your own. I hear it's like getting attached to a pet.

Two Rejects

Boo.

Speaking of "boo" -

The Ancient Booer: Boo. Boo. Boo.
Buttercup: Why do you do this?
The Ancient Booer: Because you had love in your hands, and you gave it up.
Buttercup: But they would have killed Westley if I hadn't done it.
The Ancient Booer: Your true love lives. And you marry another. True Love saved her in the Fire Swamp, and she treated it like garbage. And that's what she is, the Queen of Refuse. So bow down to her if you want, BOW to her. Bow to the Queen of Slime, the Queen of Filth, the Queen of Putrescence. Boo. Boo. Rubbish. Filth. Slime. Muck. Boo. Boo. Boo.

U Chicago

wants me. But not bad enough. C'est la vie, said the old folks...

"...enjoy the pursuit of pleasure as much as the fruits of labor!"

From my wise man, Andrew WK. More following (from his website):

Question:
Hey Andrew! What's up? First of all, you rock. I've been to a couple of your concerts and they were the best times of my life. I do have one question though: My friend said you seemed like the type of person that would bite into a cat. I told her you were a really nice guy and wouldn't do that. Am I right? Well, I hope you respond to this. That would be awesome. See ya.
asked by ZMAN on Sunday, February 27, 2005

Answer:
Dear ZMAN, I would never bite into a cat's body, unless I was either: A) Starving to death and in need of pure meat. -or- B) About to be killed by a cat attack. If a cat was trying to claw my eyes out, I might take a bite out of it's flank, but first, it's much more likely that I'd slam my fist into it's face and hammer-hit it's head. In order to put the cat in a tail-spin, I'd grab it's back-foot and fling-whip it into a wall, or the corner of the floor. Then I'd probably stomp it's head until it's skull ruptured and it's bones exploded. But I would ONLY do that if the cat was trying to claw me. Otherwise I'd let the cat lay, and I'd stay far away. The animal that perches and sits is the animal I gaze at with wonder. I watch it as it lives it's own life; a completely independant reality in which this creature is itself - just as much as I am me. This truth is the answer to my confusion, and holding it close keeps me in line. Show your friend how to come into this space, and enjoy herself. Everything is happening! Sincerely yours, Andrew W.K.
answered by Andrew W.K. on Monday, February 28 , 2005 7:29 AM

Hair

It hit me yesterday that my hair felt like a big, tangled, woolly blanket, and I reached my threshold then, as I do every few months, and resolved to whack it. So I did, and I like it; all the visible layers are gone (ie it looks one length) and she put in a lot of layers underneath to make it feel lighter. Cute, but little shorter than I expected, and bangs definitely shorter than I expected. Then I chanced to look in the mirror and realized...I look just like one of my favorite professors, Andrea N! Great. Now everyone is going to think I'm trying to be her, trying to single white female her. Next week, I'll be meeting her best friend, a potential new professor for me, and Prof. Kathryn M will be horrified when she sees me. I'll have to wear a ponytail or something.

The woman who cut my hair, Lee, mentioned that she was soon going to have dual citizenship, U.S. and Swedish. I got misty when I heard that, because the best boy I ever had was Swedish, and hearing that reminder (just the word: Sweden!) made me miss him very much. His name means Beloved, but it was he who wore his heart on his sleeve, and was always giving. I adored him because I respected him. I'd never before (and certainly not since!) seen anyone so selfless and fearless with love. Lee said that boys in Sweden grow up fast because they have to join the draft when they're 18. Food for thought.

I took my cute new haircut with me tonight on my second date with Harpo Marx. Monkey Business - uproarious! though I feel like Horse Feathers was more compelling, a bit more natural. I might have gotten more into Monkey Business if I hadn't missed the first half-hour. I was about to skip my Marx brothers engagement altogether this weekend, when I realized I couldn't do it. And as I was sitting in the theater, I was SO glad I was there. There's something so quieting and joyful about these comedies, that I come away feeling happy and renewed and ready for the week, as if I had dipped my burning heart into a river. Or, as if I had a big hug from mommy. I'm in love with Harpo in the best way; the immortality of the artist is a strange thing.

I may never get around to discussing this again, so I'll briefly mention it now: Jean Cocteau's Orpheus. Excellent movie. My Latin class watched it together last Tuesday. At first I was outraged that the plot was nothing like the Orpheus plot, but now I'm thinking that that was the most brilliant move. It was more like an adaptation of motifs from the myth than of the myth itself. The movie centered around death, and the relationship between death and art. Again, the immortality of the artist.

Bling 2

Got the Cota Robles fellowship for UCLA. That means a full six years of funding. Oh yeah!

Too Much

Okay, I'm done partying. Elsie G and I went out twice to the city this weekend with Deisy C with big plans of having a wild time, and somehow everything turned out to be a misconnection. Yesterday, I forgot to take my ID (motherfucker!) so we ended up at an 18+ queer club - which would have been fine, except there were a disproportionately large number of women, which is just as stressful as a club full of straight men, only more so when you're not lesbian. Also, everyone was under 18, I suspect. Tonight was just plain tame; I think our party had conflicting notions of "a good time," so that none of us really got what we were looking for. FYI, in case you ever take me out, my idea of a party sounds something like "Shut up and dance!" The funnest part of the evening was the drive home, talking with all the womenfolk about Buffy and the OC, among other shows. Quality time, though capping a mild evening.

I did learn one useful thing this weekend. It's an old drag queen trick, said Thursday's hostess: when you're on the dance floor and you want to lip-synch to songs whose words you don't know, just keep mouthing "watermelon." Works every time! Supposedly...

I also noticed an overlooked detail last night when I was telling Elsie and Deisy my Asshole #2 story. I said something like, "I guess he had a good reason for not wanting to commit! I couldn't figure it out then, but yeah, it makes total sense now." Elsie: "What was the reason he gave you when he said he didn't want a relationship?" I thought about it. "Actually, it was a load of crap! He was like, 'You seem really flakey, honestly, and I feel like you could take off any minute.'" Deisy: "You mean, like he was afraid that you were going to hurt him?" Me: "Yes! And then he said, 'But maybe you'll suprise me.' So whenever I felt ready to dump him, I would stop and think, no I should just wait this one through awhile..."

"That is such bullshit!" We all laughed til it hurt.

Happy

I've been feeling really good lately - strong and energized and happy, and I'd almost even say excited, except that there's no real stimulus for excitement (other than life!). I'd been doing reasonably well in classes, I'm interested in my studies, I have promises that I will indeed have a future, I've been watching great movies and good tv, eating right, and most of all, spending lots and lots and LOTS of time with friends. This might be damaging my schoolwork a little, and yeah, I stayed up all night last night writing a paper and I skipped class today...but all in all, I know I'm not drowning, and it's been more beneficial in the long run to take in all that good company.

More and more I realize that I am not a machine, and I can't will myself into submission like I've seen so many other people do - brilliant academics especially. Since I'll never be like them, I'm learning to be better at taking care of my other needs. So that even if I'm not brilliant, at least I won't crash and burn. I'm an emotional person. I'm thankful for all the study-buddies, meal-buddies, OC-buddies, party-buddies, and linger-and-gossip-when-there's-clearly-other-stuff-to-do-buddies I've had during these past few weeks. They've helped me turn my recent tragedies into side-splitting, laugh-out-loud comedies.

That was a pretty boring post, huh? Well, even Coppola is capable of disaster, cf. the "Life without Zoe" segment in New York Stories. Accept that as my apology.

Update

Paper to write, so no post. Accepted into Chapel Hill.

Candace Bushnell

The author of Sex and the City gave a talk today. One thing she said that I thought was really profound: "No task is too small. Be the best at what you're doing at the moment, because that will mean you can be the best at bigger things." (paraphrase)

It seems like essential advice for an aspiring writer. And probably (especially?) for actors or musicians or other artists as well. How else can your work stay meaningful to you, when by all indices, it's going nowhere? For Bushnell, it was also the way new opportunities opened up for her.