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Last Diary Update: 05/09/02
My Political Compass:
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Friday, March 21, 2003
Friend Only To The Undertaker, Or Something.
OK, I'm determined to post something non-political today. If nothing else, I have to do something to get that Edwin Starr song out of my head, which has been on permanent repeat since Monday. (Actually—and I don't know if this makes it better or worse—but the version that I know best is by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.)
I think my cold has segued directly into allergies, as I have not stopped sneezing and dripping since sometime midday yesterday. While it's nice to no longer be playing "What color is my mucus today?" I think I will have to give in and ride the Claritin pony.
Just last week the Boyfriend was saying, as if psychically submitting it to the LazyWeb, that he'd like an application that made playing whole albums easier in iTunes. Bingo, here comes Clutter. Me, I just like seeing the album covers. (Link via Tom and Mark.)
Nope, everything else I've got is old: The Random Personal Picture finder, The Old and New Testaments of the Bible translated into Polari, The 1974 Weight Watchers Recipe Cards, Chasm, a rather involved little flash game. All dusty and tired.
[Humming]..."Absolutely nothing...say it aga—D'Oh!"
02:42 PM PST (link)
Thursday, March 20, 2003
'Liberated' To Death.
In the shower this morning I was thinking seditious thoughts.
I tried listening to 93.7 FM "Enemy Combatant Radio" for a while this morning, but I could only handle so much of it. It's great to hear people enthusiastic about their civil disobedience and peaceful protest, but after a short while I get a little ill from the media spin.
Don't get me wrong, I have the same reaction, probably stronger, with major media and government
"Mo-o-o-ve! I have to get to work!" One woman waiting for a bus (that was not likely to come anytime soon) stood out in the street, bellowing at the protestors in front of her. The intersection at 2nd and Mission was blocked by a small but sincere group, removed and calmly standing, holding hands, just two city blocks from the much larger, drum-beating and circle-dancing blockade at Market and Kearny. The woman finally got in the protestors faces in frustration, yelling at a man with a bandana on his head asking her to stay calm. She screamed that she couldn't afford to miss more work. I walked past, not sure whose point I agreed with more.
People are funny. It would be quiet for a while, and then the cars which had backed up (and really hadn't moved, either) would erupt into a fit of honking. If honking doesn't work on normal traffic jams, what makes them think it'll work on protestors whose whole point is to jam traffic?
A woman in a very large, black, brand-new SUV tried to force her way through the intersection on another side. Protestors kept telling her to stop, that she was endangering pedestrians, that they were writing down her license number and would file police complaints later. She kept her windows rolled up tightly and stood behind her sunglasses (framed by her perfectly-done hair) and just demanded that they let her through. She had to get through. I think in that case I know whose point I agreed with more.
So here we are. So here I am. So now what?
11:08 AM PST (link)
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
...And Here We Are Again.
07:14 PM PST (link)
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Distracted And Uneasy: The American Way!
My long black trenchcoat is at the cleaners. An overzealous busser at Home managed to dribble Chickpea-in-Spicy-Sauce all over it the other week. It probably needed it anyway, as I wear it everywhere like a security blanket. But it won't be ready until Friday. (I felt like asking, "Can I get this back before World War Three starts?") Consequently I feel a little like Superman without his cape. My tenuous social identity as a Goth feels stretched a little tightly while I'm wearing this wool jacket with our corporate logo on the cuff. It's a nice jacket, and it's warm and black, but I generally do not wish to be identified as a "company" man, and particularly not a "sporty" one.
(Mother, I see what you're thinking and no, I don't need another long coat!)
Like many of my Web friends, I am a bit numb now that Shrub seems to have got the War he so desperately wanted. I'm having a hard time shifting emotional gears from arguing against the war to merely hoping that casualties are low for all sides. I'm also having a hard time mustering the enthusiasm to make ads hyping the digital cameras that some are using for distraction. Somehow I feel a bit complicit being the grease under the wheels of American Capitalism right now, but fear that I'm being a do-nothing liberal, complaining while cashing his paycheck. I expect there's a ideological middle-ground that I'm just yet to find. (Kind of like the red-orange terror level that somehow got omitted the first time. How about Tangerine? Coral? Magenta? Raspberry?)
Only I can turn a trip to the cleaners into a crisis of personal and political identity. There is no point making myself any more anxious. I can only fondle my claim ticket and wait a couple of days.
Just like George, really.
01:56 PM PST (link)