(no subject)

i slept a long time. but now i'm sleepy again.

time for another ten hours of watching small children.

edit: my clothes are slightly wrinkled.

from npr's alabama report.

[background: essentially, alabama does not have property tax.]

republican gubernatorial challenger bob riley has been criticized repeatedly by [gov. don] siegelman for 'not having a platform.' riley responded by laying out an outline of one.

his main point? he wants government to have more integrity.

also, he wants candidates to disclose more about their finances. but when asked how much property tax he pays, he refused to answer.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

jazz lady:

today is abbey lincoln's birthday; she's 62.

my favorite song of hers is 'brother, can you spare a dime?'

people should download it, particularly if they like impressive vocals and particularly if they like vocal jazz.

it's long and slow and heated and smoky and husky. she's very emotive, yet subtle. it's a great song.

(no subject)

it was the mission of the children today to annoy me. every ten minutes they wanted my computer for solitaire for three to five. i couldn't say, 'would you mind, because fraser and ray k are about to have sex?', now could i. and on the whole i suppose i'd rather have the computer with me. stay well away from children with hoses, though, shall we just say? god. >.< he is SO lucky he's paying $8 an hour.

on the extremely positive side, i've got two new ds stories to rec (both mailed to me by the button-cute southpaw526), as soon as i find them online, and two new authors to devour. which was good, because as cara_chapel mentioned a month ago, the prevailing pattern of broken phrases and sentences in smallville is already starting to drive me batshit and i'm not even all the way through seperis's ouevre.

tell me why you're here and who you are

cim thing: speaking of which, there was the most hilarious brit on npr this morning, on the radio expedition to gualdalcanal. sounded like a monty python skit
guinevere33: hee hee
cim thing: totally dispassionate and measured, like he's got something up his ass, all the while he's saying 'and they brought jeffers to me with bleeding sabre wounds about the chest and throat into which ants had been smeared and he gave his testimony. i also took a last statement to give to his wife. but he survived.'
j: !!
cim thing: 'it'll be alright, martha dear. go put the kettle on and we'll have a nice cup of boiling hot water.'
j: O_o
cim thing: YES, totally CALM. no emphasis whatsoever.

sarah slean's 'high'

always wonder why your eyes are closed
don't you want to see me closing mine?
heaven help me, i'll devour him
see me drawing out his spine
hey, boy, come sleep
i will turn the ocean into sky
how do you keep
when the love is making you high
outta sight, outta mind?
high

you're afraid of what I'll do to you
recall the taste of something sweet
between a thousand sheets of memory
i cannot be blamed because you're weak
hey, boy, come sleep
I will turn the ocean into sky
how do you keep
when the love is making you high
outta sight, outta mind?
high

(no subject)

and it's not a bad thing when good stories make you cry.

(no subject)

::hits self:: guadalcanal--guadalcanal. d'oh. where was my internal spellchecker? damned non-phonetic languages!

speaking of guadalcanal, i once alienated a really adorable nagoya u student over the movie the thin red line when i said that as it was an american movie, he could hardly expect them to tell a world war ii story from the japanese side.

i didn't know enough about the culture's collective wwii neurosis yet, then, or about the still-extant racial-superiority-complex (though they may tell you otherwise).