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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

2002-04-23 ... 3:57 a.m.


More fake cereal. Last night LT and I worked some more on developing our psychedelic concept cereal, which we are naming Helter Skelter. Here is the tagline for the ad campaign:


I think the box should feature a bunch of dilated-pupil children tumbling down one of those M. C. Escher slides, all wicked bright painful colors and tessellated patterns. Part of this complete breakfast!


Another yesterday obsession: I have been thinking about clinical screening measures that are supposed to determine whether or not a patient has a substance abuse problem. The CAGE questions are famous, and there's another one called CRAFFT I just read about yesterday.

This is not self-justification talking (believe me, I've done enough of that in my life that I know it when I see it), neither am I worried about any of my behavior with regard to Substances. I'm just fascinated by our ever-changing attitudes toward intoxicants in this society (Prohibition, the legalize marijuana movement, the "war on drugs"). For instance, with the CRAFFT questions, except for obvious person-endangering ones like "riding in a car" or "getting in trouble" (nice and vague, there), the word "ever" bothers me. I'm interested in the "just so far and no farther" line in the sand society draws with intoxicants: this much tipsiness is cute and fetching and only enhances the movie hero's sexiness, but THIS much tipsiness is pathetic and sad. Glass of wine after work? Fine. Half a joint after work? Oh, you have a problem. And while of course there's no need to board the S. S. Shitfaced every time you crack open a beer, I think it's telling that although lots of people drink decaffeinated coffee, there doesn't seem to be a similar consumer demand for de-alcohol'd bourbon or wine. The effect, even in a mild controlled weeknight form, is intrinsic to the consumption. Intoxicants tend to intoxicate. What is the point of 100% moderation in all things, all the time, anyway? Can you write a moderate poem or novel? Can you love your child in a moderate way? Can you feel moderate grief when thoroughly disappointed in the very idea of love?


On the other hand, there's Jonathan. I forgot to record how, when I was sitting at Ola's on Damen waiting to get my Saturday night started, I ran into Jonathan. Probably early-30s, good-looking, and drunker than I've seen anyone in a long, long time. It was actually kind of alarming (this was like at 6 pm, remember), and total strangers at the bar (mostly, at that hour, old Polish men) were inquiring about how he was getting home and whatnot. Despite my efforts to keep a low profile, I think I kind of stuck out in the sea of ethnic elderly, being the only woman there, sitting alone in my all-black clothing waiting for my friend, and reading Harper's. Jonathan asked me to "help" him with the jukebox, because he was having trouble seeing I guess, and when I good-sportedly agreed he yelled, "whoa, you're short" as I stood up. Gee, thanks. He actually wasn't that obnoxious for being so tanked, and I feel a bit bad for fucking with him, not least because my humor was wasted on someone so messed up. He completely missed it, for instance, when he loudly proclaimed himself to be a Hall and Oates fan and asked me my opinion on the 1980s duo (what else do you say but, "I can't go for that"?). And when he was asking me to guess his profession, I guessed "anesthesiologist" mostly because it was apropos (the numbing effects of alcohol), but also because it was fun to hear him try and say it. I'm so mean sometimes.

My fucked-in-the-head horoscope today is lovely. Watch out lest I frighten you to death.

---mimi smartypants has found the scarlet thing in you.


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