April 12th, 2007


o, the treachery!

Caught only the last 15 minutes of "Lost" tonight, but, as Ringo Starr once (sorta) sang, "Oh my my": you can't trust anyone. Or can you?

That's sort of what I was thinking about before I remembered "Lost" was on. I'd just watched the second half of The Jerk, see. Which is a surprisingly funny movie, once you get past the opening. Really. Although I often like Steve Martin (I'm generally of a mind, ever since All of Me, to give him a chance), I doubt I'd ever have tried The Jerk were it not for the "Freaks and Geeks" guys recommending it. If I remember right, the movie becomes a litmus test for girls, to Lindsay's little brother & his friends: if a girl can't/won't/don't laugh at The Jerk, how could you really love her? The film ain't all that to me, 'xactly, but it does have some pretty good belly laughs. AND it has a ukelele.

The DVD, in fact, has a whole ukelele section, in which viewers can train to strum along with the eponymous jerk and Bernadette Peters during their (deadpan & lovely, charming dork/innocent but also hilarious) "You Belong To Me" beach ukelele scene. And that's nice. Me, I just sang along, ukeless.

See, I could, if I made/let myself (what is WITH these slashes any more?? i swear them off completely, right here right now, in these very parentheses, until the end of april. at least. i swear.), I could either get really pissed off and pop blood vessels or (more true) bawl my eyes out like a child over ukelele sweetness. But I do neither. I did neither. Despite my (commie) uke wound. I may even get me a uke some day. A home should have a uke, no?

Isn't that a uke in that Smiths song? ---the one---in 3/4 time---that probably wouldn't have the same lyrical impact if you tweaked the words (as I would do, were I to cover it tonight) to go "Lord knows it would be the second time"? HA HA hA ha HaaaAAaAAA! maniacal laughter!!

Tonight I haven't been drinking. Which is worse?

So you can't trust anyone. But that's okay. It's like the "You Belong To Me" all-we've-got-is-now thing---that's the truth, and we all know it. See? I'm evolving, even if I'm not quite to "No one in the world ever gets what they want, and that is beautiful; everybody dies frustrated and sad, and that is beautiful. They want what they're not and I wish they would stop saying deputy dog dog a ding dang depadepa, deputy dog dog a ding dang depadepa."

Speaking of philosophy, I e-ed BFD today a line of that Simone's that came back to me. I don't have my reader from the library yet, but online perusal exposed me to, among other things, a page of quotations. The two that stuck with me, I should perhaps be embarrassed to admit, weren't of the "food for thought" category so much as the "Hey, yeah, I think that" one, but here they are for you anyway:

"A hurtful act is the transference to others
of the degradation which we bear in ourselves."

--- dude. And

"For when two beings who are not friends are near each other there is no meeting, and when friends are far apart there is no separation."

--- duu-uu-uuude.

Laugh if you want. Grasshoppers.

Simone died at 34, you know. A full decade (and counting) less longetivitudinousness than yours truly. Of course, the quotation quips are but that (though I can appreciate a koan-like vibe thing to a contextless snippet). And, as mentioned in earlier work of the present author of the post in front of your eyes, one reads what one reads when one reads not what quite other thing one reads not.

But that's about enough of that kinda talk, for now, I declare. If not necessarily for the rest of April. (Let's see how I do.)

In the past two days I, who do not have a sweet tooth, have somehow sought out & acquired, or come across & taken in, quite a great deal of chocolate. The chocolate containing, chocolate covered, chocolate flavored, and just chocolate. A regular variety platter's worth. Come over for a taste, if you'd like.

As I child I thought I'd grow up to be quite an indulger. Free love hippie epicurean, taking pleasure virtually wherever it could be found. In some playgrounds, I made it. In others, watch out. You never know what might befall me. In the words of the queer slogan, "Where there's life, there's hope."

--your big idiot optimist, Lisa
avatar w/buff hat


Kurt Vonnegut: he was one of the good ones. What of his shall I read, or re-read, in his honor?

I haven't had the heart to investigate further, but, months ago, when the charges were downgraded from "rape" to "sexual assault" in the case of the Duke lacrosse players, I remember hearing on the radio (NPR, I believe), in careful terms, that the inconsistency in the story of the "stripper" (as even NPR refers to her this morning) that prompted the change in charges was that she couldn't or wouldn't declare with certainty, upon later questioning, that what she had been penetrated with was (were) the actual male organ(s) essential for "rape" in North Carolina.

I don't know if I said that clearly enough that it makes any sense. I've not had coffee yet, and I don't even have the heart to read over what I just typed. And now I've gotta get dressed & run out the door.