I want to have 1,000,000 of Craftster's babies. Just so you know.

From Craftster: Where the Wild Things Are wall mural. I can't believe how great this is. "That night in Max's room a forest grew.... and grew... and grew..." It looks easy in the progress pictures, but I bet it isn't. [Photo originally uploaded by Red fork hippie chick, who did the mural.]

Another project, which is more do-able by virtue of requiring less space and talent, is this vinyl mail organizer from Pink of Perfection. Props. Next week I'm going a-searching for some vinyl I can melt.

Anti-inflammatory remarks

Every five minutes, someone else announces the death of books. It hasn't happened in the past thousand years, though, so I'm not that worried.

(Also, is Samuel Beckett's portrait at the top of this article meant to suggest something about what we cultural ingrates should be reading? Waiting for the renaissance of humourless, progressive modern drama is like waiting for... nah. Never mind. Too easy.)

Love, and semantics

A word about words: I despise the term "significant other" and its flippant abbreviation, SO. It sounds so cold, and also not specific enough: I have lots of people who are significant to me, and what's "other"? Like "The Other"? It just sounds like meaningless lingo. I hate "Partner" almost as much. It sounds calculating, like you've considered your prospects, and your "partner" is the one you're investing in. I like its suggestion of equality, and also its gender-neutrality, but it's still too formal. I have generally referred to James as my "boyfriend," but as we get older I grow weary of that as well. It was fine when I was 18 and he was 22, but we're grown-ups now, and a boyfriend seems like something you have in high school. "Boyfriend" and "girlfriend" don't communicate the depth of our love for each other, not to mention our shared desire to get a puppy.

What I dislike about these phrases is their coldness, their wide use, how impersonal they are. Therefore, I am experimenting with some alternatives. My favourite, by far, is "man friend," because it sounds to me like something divorcees on cruises would have. Recently a friend suggested "Lover" (pronounced "Lovah"), which is good too, plus it tends to make people uncomfortable. "Gentleman caller," with its fake modesty and its Tennessee-Williams-ishness, is good in small doses. My trusty Oxford American Writer's Thesaurus (given to me by the variously described man in question) suggests, also, sweetheart (nice and retro), escort (fun sexual connotations), companion (overtures of Lord of the Rings!), (main) squeeze, steady, swain, and beau. And those are just the good ones. Perhaps I'll alternate between these for awhile, try them on for size.

Interesting: each of these words means something very specific to me, has a million connotations, precious to a native speaker of English. When I took Spanish, we learned one word for "boyfriend," novio. Is that closer to "swain" or closer to "lovah"? I have no way of knowing. In French, the high-school appropriate term was Petit ami (little friend), which I always found deeply weird. My main squeeze is actually larger than most of my other friends. This is the risk of second languages, that they may never mean as much, or vary in such specific ways.

Vladimir Nabokov wrote Lolita in English, and of the process, he writes (in one of my favourite passages of the afterword to that book):

My private tragedy, which cannot, and indeed should not, be anybody's concern, is that I had to abandon my natural idiom, my untrammeled, rich, and infinitely docile Russian tongue for a second-rate brand of English, devoid of any of those apparatuses-- the baffling mirror, the black velvet backdrop, the implied associations and traditions-- which the native illusionist, frac-tails flying, can magically use to transcend the heritage in his own way.

Nabokov is the only one who understands my boyfriend problem, or I should say, my "boyfriend" problem.

Small assertions of power

My toilet has been broken for weeks. Last month, it ran all day while I was at work, flooding my bathroom floor, and water leaked into my downstairs neighbour's apartment. For the past two weeks, its flushing function has been accomplished with the removal of a wire coat hanger apparatus in the tank. Well, I decided I had had enough. I may be a depressed, unemployed loser, but today I fixed my goddamn toilet. Not only that: I fixed it with an application of brute strength. I took it apart with my tools, I figured out how it worked, I BENT IT INTO THE SHAPE I WANTED IT TO BE, and then I put it back together.

I wish I could say I had accomplished all of this wearing stilettos, but the honest truth is, I was wearing sweatpants, and I actually pulled said sweatpants out of the dirty laundry to begin the task. Nonetheless, I feel pretty good about myself at this moment.

Let this be a lesson to the rest of my sub-standard appliances. You can't beat me, so freakin' fall in line.

(By consulting the archives, I can actually determine that a year ago, in September, 2006, my toilet was already causing me problems. So you see, this constitutes a major victory. Girl vs. the Evironment. Also consider my battle with my kitchen sink.)

May I suggest you buy this? #14

Layered bird plate with double scroll / $25 from porcelain and paper

Warcraft... but in a serious way. SRSLY.

This is my newest Warcraft character, Maddix. I made her because James had a level 20-ish rogue (or "rouge," as people in the WOW chat like to write, because they are dumb) who needed a playing companion. I like her badass expression, her nose-ring, and her somewhat matchy armor. (A first for me!) She's a warlock, so she's slightly evil, which goes against my in-game ideology but which I am getting more used to. She fights with staffs, and also with wands, like Harry Potter, which is fun. She has an 'X' in her name. So you see, there's lots to like about her.

What I don't like is her dumb minion, Disraith, standing in the background in her hideous trampy demon bustier and panties.

One of the reasons I started playing Warcraft in the first place is that the game has, as James initially convinced me, "Diverse roles for women!" Female characters will have the same stats as a male character of the same class and level. Female non-player characters (who are part of the game) are rulers of kingdoms, army commanders, merchants, etc.--they do everything men do. Female and male characters wear the same armor and use the same gear. All of this pleases me.

But in other ways, the game is so exploitative, and it actually bothers me a lot. This minion, who whips herself with the leather whip she is holding and giggles, is part of that. Before she attacks, she says things like, "Don't touch what you can't afford." When you dismiss her, she says, "I hope it was good for you." In other words, she's like my own little 15-year-old-boy's leather-clad fantasy girlfriend--her world revolves around sex and her own function as a sex object, and she enjoys pain (causing it and experiencing it). But since that's not really my perfect woman, personally, I haven't been using her--I've been sticking with my Voidwalker, who's big, navy-blue, non-gendered, and actually looks a lot like The Dark.

To me, this game isn't about sex. At all. It's about myth, and obligation, and good and evil. It's a fantasy version of our own lives, in which all but the most basic concerns have been removed, leaving us free to run around, owning only the contents of our Backpacks, seeking adventure and the chance to express our own heroism. There's money, but only because a game cannot function without some method of reward and score-keeping; there is no real financial obligation, no work, no family. That's what bothers me about my succubus, and about my female characters' inevitably sexy armor: it has no place in this world. It represents something that is meaningful to us, the players, but if we accept the confines of the game-world, it shoud be meaningless. Sex and love and relationships are not a part of my characters' lives, and it doesn't seem fair to make them dress up to please human game-players--the group who control every aspect of their in-game counterparts' lives, and yet have no place of their own in the in-game world. My paladin is too busy fighting evil to stop and think about why her (plate) armor leggings don't cover her bum (and why she can't wear pants under her armor). My warlock is too busy fighting evil (plus, being a little evil) to consider her succubus, and why Disraith insists on whipping herself and squealing. But I'm thinking about it, and I'm not amused.

Earlier on this very blog: the alliance vs. the horde and good vs. evil.

Some other crazy gender-'n'-gaming news: The Chinese MMO King of the World has banned male players playing female characters. Apparently, all that gender-bending is just too confusing for people. Even the title is funny: Shanda's Aurora Bans Transsexuals! Umm, ok.

James pointed my way to a short online TV show called The Guild, which stars Felicia Day, who was once on Buffy. It's a funny show, and her blog has some links to gaming-related articles and stuff. Apparently, she's kind of a nerd, and she's actress-pretty, which makes her the dream girl of every straight guy I know. Go to! (Actually, she's kind of my dream-girl too, because she writes with intelligence and punctuation, and her entries don't just consist of "hey guys!!!!!!!!!!," which many actresses seem to think will pass for blogging.)

3:10 to Yuma-- "It's alright. They don't have to be blue."

So, I saw the newer 3:10 to Yuma a couple weeks ago, and last night I watched the old one. I'm happy to be able to say that they're both awesome! It's not very often I like two things. It's hard to judge because I saw them in the wrong order, but I think I might like the new one more. Its ending is definitely better, and so's the casting I think. Glenn Ford and Ven Heflin can't really compare to the charisma of Batman and, uh, Cinderella Man! (You probably thought I was gonna go with Gladiator, huh? Nope!) Anyway, both are well worth watching, and you should go see the new one in the theatre if you can, because we have to support contemporary Westerns. Otherwise Hollywood will stop making them. And then I will have nothing to occasionally like, and usually make fun of.

I don't know if I really believe in progress, in a general sense. But I do believe in it, and I have seen its effects, in one particular arena: child acting. Am I right? Why were child actors so universally bad in the 1930s-1950s? Anyway, the newer 3:10 has the same number of child/adolescent stars, but 3 times the acting.

I hope my fists can fight for two

[Via style files]: "Fractured Fairy Tales" wall display.


This is actually one unit, the individual boxes are attached to each other and to the wall. I just love this, and it seems like it would actually be pretty easy to build, with some basic carpentry skills. (Note to self: develop basic carpentry skills.) The guy who writes this blog, Thomas Wold, is a designer for ReadyMade, and I love love love his projects.

I know it's just a weird form of inverted lethargy, but I feel like taking on some apartnment-y projects: I've been considering making curtains, painting a wall or two, or making a new quilt. This is basically because I am bored, but whatever.

I had a swim, but no shower because there is no hot water in my building today. Denied! As a result, I feel very salty, like in a Kris Kristofferson song [Or, apparently, a Willie Nelson song. My illusions are shattered.]

OMG, internets, the song of the week on iTunes this week is the worst EVER. It's not often that I can listen to 15 seconds of a song and then decide to delete it from my computer FOREVER, but this is one of those times.

I wish I had something to tell you. I wish I had a cool wall installation made of boxes and cabinets. I wish I was a character in Lord of the Rings. (Preferably the movie, not the book, since J. R. R. Tolkien was kind of a mysogynist and would probably make me a giant spider.) I wish for lots of things.

One may think we're doing fine
but if I had to lay it on the line
we're losing ground with every passing day
we're not OK.
-The Perishers

SoPoMo

Simpsons scenes and their reference movies-- an amazing collection of shot-by-shot Simpsons references to films.

Shakespearean lolcats

I also really like invisible everything.

Weekend Report

This weekend feels like it has already gone on for a year. I don't know why I'm so exhausted, but there you have it, Internet. Unemployment is tiring! (Actually, hanging out with people for hours and hours is tiring, but the other version is pithier.) I woke up feeling like death warmed over, and I went for restaurant breakfast, a swim and a shower, and I feel 15% better. But 15% better than death warmed over is still not too great, actually. (Over the past week I've been swimming in the pool in my building, which is something I've always promised myself I would do. There are all kinds of things wrong with this pool: it's tiny, it's saltwater [which means it's way too warm for lap swimming], it's so shallow that I stub my toes on the bottom. But, more importantly than all of those things, it's in my building. I need to stop being so disgustingly lazy, and swimming is an easy way for me to exercise, because it allows me an immersion in my own thoughts that is hypnotic. James and I are also discussing taking a yoga class together, which is another step on the Becoming a Couple Everyone Else Hates Because They're So Co-Dependent and Adorable road.)

I applied for a job at the CBC today, and one as the music librarian at a local radio station on Friday. Being a film or music archivist/librarian would be so freakin' cool, I can't even tell you. Hipster cred through the roof. And if I thought I had the remotest chance of actually getting such a job, I'd be happy, but that is not the case. I'm trying not to get discouraged, but it is rapidly getting to the point where I am going to have to get another, random job, just to have money, and then I will completely lose my motivation to search for another, proper job because I will be too tired, and then I will work at a bookstore/coffee place/whatever forever, muttering to myself about my masters degree and how no one respects me. All I'm saying is that this incredibly depressing future is inevitable.

----------------
Currently listening to: Damien Rice - 9 Crimes
via FoxyTunes

Favourite thing of the day

Jenny Owen Youngs' indie acoustic cover of Nelly's "Hot in Herre." The video is an igloo party. It's a dumb AOL video, so if it doesn't embed properly, just go there. The polar bear costumes are hottt, or whatever. And this video really speaks to me as a Canadian.

The EP is also on iTunes. She sounds kind of like the Be Good Tanyas, but with more swearing, which is awesome.

Grey Gardens

So, I just finished watching Grey Gardens, which is this 1970s documentary about two cousins of Jackie Kennedy who live in a dilapidated East Hampton mansion, arguing, ignoring each other, and endlessly reminiscing about their youth. That sentence does not even begin to encompass this movie, though--it transcends each of the elements described above, in turn. It's the kind of movie people get obsessed with. The introduction from the Criterion Collection release is worth reading. Just rent it, though.

My favourite part of the movie is when Edith Bouvier Beale Jr. ("Little Edie") explains her outfit to the documentary filmmaker:

Because I don't like women in skirts, and the best thing is to wear pantyhose or some pants under a short skirt, I think. Then you have the pants under the skirt and then you can pull the stockings up over the pants, underneath the skirt. And you can always take off the skirt and use it as a cape! So I think this is the best costume for today... I have to think these things up, you know?

(The house that gives the film its title has been purchased and restored. I found these photos that show its current condition.)

I'm totally getting my money's worth from my zip subscription this month. Unemployment! I've watched 13 movies in 3 weeks, and Grey Gardens is the one I'm most likely to watch obsessively, although I also really liked both The Science of Sleep and King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters.

I wrote this at 4 in the morning, which is why it doesn't make sense

Principles of the Fish Nightmare

1. I do not want to kill the fish, or to be inadvertently responsible for the death of the fish.
2. In fact, I am morally bound to look after the fish, even though I am terrified of it and, in fact, hate it. This is because, once a fish enters your life, you either actively care for it or kill it. There is no middle ground.
3. The fish wants--what? To be between my body and the couch? What is the fish doing? Is it actively seeking death? Is it confused, evil, suicidal? I don't understand this principle.
4. I should welcome my blankets. In the real world, which has had the dream-world bleed into it until the two are momentarily identical, the blankets should provide an extra layer of protection from wriggling, burrowing fish. And yet they also provide cover, and their exact contents are hard to control.
5. The physical memory of the wriggling of the fish persists long after intellect and description should have banished it.

i'm in ur internets, combining ur memes

Meghan sent me a link to lolsecretz, which combines two of everyone's favourite internet memes: postsecret and lolcats. If this doesn't sound like a good idea, then prepare yourself to be surprised. Many of the submissions are both touching and funny.

Previous entries concerning my lolcats obsession:
My favourite lolcat
Lolcats and lolbrarians

/blogged

James forwarded me this link from Wired: an article about so-called 'Gamer regret,'-- "a sudden, horrifying sense of emptiness when we muse on all the other things we could have done with our game time." Sadist that I am, I checked my time played for my three main Warcraft characters and added it all together with a little MATH! (I have a couple of other alternate characters, but I hardly ever play them, and they're low-level so I can't have committed much time to them.) The result: 30 days, 21 hours. That means that in the year (or so) I've been playing Warcraft, I've spent a month in-world. That's two hours a day. Yeah. Glad I could make you feel better about your own, pathetic life.

The thing is, I feel like I am finally at a point where I can play without losing myself in it--I have grown capable, finally, of stopping when I've had enough, of resisting when I have other things to do, of recognizing when the experience is making me less happy instead of more happy. These days I clock maybe 6 or 7 hours a week--more humane, certainly. (24 of those 30 days were getting my main character to 60, and I have barely played with her for 3 months or more since she got there and I completely lost interest in her.) But there was definitely a time when I didn't have that ability to be constructive. But this is the way I consume everything, obsessively, so I don't know why it continues to surprise me.

From The Onion: 14 American Apparel Models Freed In Daring Midnight Raid

14 American Apparel Models Freed In Daring Midnight Raid | The Onion - America's Finest News Source

"There were girls lying everywhere—draped over furniture, sprawled spread-eagled in the corner, and huddled close like animals," FBI Special Agent Curtis Froman, who oversaw the raid, said at a press conference. "Many of them had been given nothing more than a pair of tube socks or men's briefs to wear."

Write it in a martial hand

I'm home. It's late, so I shall make this brief.

I went to Seattle! And Tacoma! And Portland! I went to Powell's Books, which was, as advertised, big. (In fact, it uses its own internal numeric book organization system. I got very excited when I thought I had found a bookstore organized according to the Dewey Decimal System, and was then appropriately broken-hearted when I realized it wasn't Dewey, but an arbitrary system. Sad face.) I also went to Elliott Bay Books in Seattle. At these bookstores, I bought 5 books, 1 of which (Neil Gaiman's M is for Magic) I have already completed.

I went to the Seattle Repertory Theatre's version of Twelfth Night, which was excellent. I went to a very dramatic documentary about competitive arcade gaming, King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, which was also excellent. I stayed at my parents' new house in Tacoma, which (as James pointed out) is oddly cabin-like, so we are going to make an effort from now on to refer to it as "the cabin."

I went to Fred Meyer, where I bought some little ceramic dishes with plastic snap-on lids, of the type I have been searching for for many moons.

I was disappointed in my inability to use my debit card in the US. Like, get with the program, FreedomLand!

I was happy to come home, and update my blog, and stop being such a lazy-bones. That's right, I said lazy-bones.

ready for a big trip?

I leave for Washington tomorrow. I am making a new mix for my iPod, which is called "Washington" because I had an uncharacteristic bout of non-creativity. The emphasis is on Washington bands, because I'm just nerdy like that: Pedro the Lion, the Postal Service, Death Cab for Cutie, Band of Horses, Sleater-Kinney.

I am also buying some new books to read on the plane. I have been trying to buy fewer books recently, and get things from the library instead, but when I travel I need something new. Something YA (for the plane): Sarah Ryan's The Empress of the World, which is supposed to be a sensitive treatment of teenage lesbian experimentation; and something serious, Jose Saramago's Blindness, which I am morally bound to read because my book club is tackling it for October. When traveling, I think you need a less-serious book and a more-serious book. That way, if you're not in the mood for one, you have the other. This represents, actually, a pretty reduced version of traveling-book philosophies I've held in the past, which may have required bringing three or more books on any one trip.

With new books, and new playlists, I can go anywhere.

All of this is assuming I can get my pending passport in time. If I do, then I'm going to the Seattle Aquarium, baby.

Seth Green, on The Onion AV Club, talks about being on Sesame Street.

Sesame Street (2004)—"Vinny"

SG: I called them up to see if I could get on the show. I was like, "Am I famous enough that I can call and ask to be on Sesame Street yet?" And I guess I was. So they were like "What do you want to do?" And I'm like, "Anything, just put me on with some Muppets, please!" And I actually flew to do Sesame Street immediately after filming Without A Paddle. I flew back from New Zealand, I was in Los Angeles for less than four hours, then I flew to New York and got in at midnight for a 7 a.m. call. That's why I look so haggard on it. But it was a really incredible experience. They pulled a bunch of the old Muppets out of storage and let me play with them, so I got to meet Grover and Oscar, and Big Bird and Cookie Monster, and the Count and Bert and Ernie. It was the greatest.

AVC: What exactly was your Sesame Street role? What did you do?

SG: I played a mailman that delivered letters—letters of the alphabet. It was great.

AVC: Was it actually with those old Muppets, or did they just bring them out to show you?

SG: No, they just brought them out to show me. My scene was with Big Bird and Telly Monster.

AVC: Why were you keen to be on Sesame Street?

SG: I grew up loving Sesame Street. It was really inspirational for me. As a kid, they taught me all my best lessons and my ABCs, and what it was to do a commercial. It was just such a deeply embedded childhood fantasy to be on that show, and I really wanted to be a part of it. I was thrilled to be able to.
Random Roles: Seth Green