Back to Diaryland

the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2002-01-30 ... 12:38 p.m.

Restless Mimi. I want to dance and jump and play a giant conga drum and smoke long cigarettes and scream into a microphone and make the scene. Or maybe that's just the caffeine and headphones punk rock talking.

Note to the guy who flashed me the 100-watt smile and sexy wink through the train window. Normally I am not very susceptible to such things, but for some reason that made me very happy this morning, so: Thank you.

Apparently I'm in a weakened state right now if I'm digging stranger-winks on El platforms. Who wants to flirt with me? It's guaranteed to work, at least until I get some lunch, renew the flagging blood sugar, and return to my regularly scheduled cynicism.

This next was forwarded to me by a girlfriend who understands how much I enjoy being a passenger: the video for "Star Guitar" by the Chemical Brothers. (Warning: this is not for those who become easily motion-sick.) I'm kind of lukewarm on this kind of music---it's good for beat-heavy background but it doesn't transport me anywhere in particular---but I very much enjoyed the video, if only because its periodicity seemed a lot like something I might do, with my craving for repetition etc. When I was making my puny little film I got very into counting frames and stochastic film editing. What makes me so tired sometimes about my whole OCD problem is how nonsensical it all is. I should be able to edit my film project according to aesthetic judgments and not according to a numerological need for symmetry and rhythm. I should be able to choose a beverage based on which one I actually desire and not on which one comes first alphabetically or what day of the week it is. I should be able to leave the house when I'm ready and not at the "correct" clock-moment. Isn't that what regular people do?

I've been working a lot lately, and the stress is doing something very odd to my brain: the newest nervous tic I've picked up is a tendency to break out into song. It's like a Hollywood musical around here (except without the dance numbers and painted backdrops). What Goes On by Velvet Underground has been in my head for days and days, particularly the underwater-siren guitar part, and even though I'm not entirely sure of all the words I sing it anyway, out loud, walking home. I also have been singing the Chiquita Banana Song (1945 lyrics only, PLEASE! Get out of here with your crappy "updating"!) a whole lot. Complete with Carmen Miranda accent and vocal flourishes. I am quite proud of my Chiquita Banana Song rendition, to tell you the truth. If there's ever a Diaryland talent show, watch the fuck out because I will be throwing down the mad banana stylings.

---mimi smartypants has wrestled with an alligator, tussled with a whale, handcuffed lightning and put thunder in jail.


join my Notify List and get email when I update my site:
Powered by