Wednesday, February 25, 2004

I just saw the movie Cold Mountain. It left me feeling as though a file had rasped across my soul, raw and sore. I'd read the book so there weren't many surprises; though I love the portrayal of Ruby, the best actor in the film, IMHO. It wasn't what I needed to see, to be honest. I had a really great day and now I feel depressed and empty inside again.

::sigh::...OK- trying to recapture the great part of the day: I went to another job interview and I'm 99% certain that I got it. I have to take a drug test first, which of course I'll pass. Child care issues still need to be resolved but it looks as though it could very well develop into a long term, reliable, good paying source of income. Oh! The important part of it: the job is caring for and working with handicapped and developmentally disabled children and adults. See, putting in time and getting paid for it just isn't enough in my book. Call me particular, but I like to feel as though what I'm doing *counts* for something, and this really does. I'll be happier doing this than I'd be if I were getting paid $1000 an hour to stare at a spot on the wall for 8 hours a day. There are all sorts of good things about this job. Once I can relax about the child care issues, I'll be tickled pink

I scouted out the thrift stores in Sdpt, but they were picked over and overpriced. Stupid trite romance novels abound, UGH! If ever a book were banned, they should ban cheap, trashy, idiotic books of that genre. Isn't it hard enough to forge a worthwhile relationship without filling one's head full of cotton candy foolishness?? Horror stories turn me off too: as if I couldn't dream up enough awful gory things, as if there weren't enough war and blood and gore and pain in real life, I need to read someone's fantasy of it? Thanks but no. Biographies- these can be interesting; but it occurred to me today that one person's account of life can be entirely different from that of another party living through the same experiences. The Poisonwood Bible comes to mind. In a way, an autobiography can be almost another form of fiction. I think it's safe to say that I like for whatever I read to make me *think* or to offer another perspective to consider. Anyway, long story short, I have only one Douglas Adams book to show for about an hour of scouting. I did find one I'd wanted- the Kama Sutra, but it was too expensive, about $18, ouch!! At that price, I can scout around on Ebay or wait until it surfaces for a lower price somewhere else. The bright side is that I did find a place where I can trade in the books I don't sell on Ebay for other books that I want, or one tenth of the list price if I want cash.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Bleh. I'm exhausted. I got the job at the grocery store and today was my second day at it. The first day went well, lots to learn, and my head was spinning a little, but I absorbed it quickly enough. Today I knew the routine a little better. They've got me working in the deli and bakery. I could complain about the gal I worked with today (slacker!) but you know, I'm just too tired. :-P

My blood sugar keeps diving and leaving me feeling lightheaded and so dizzy that I feel like passing out. The deal is that I don't have enough excess fat left to burn off when I forget to eat, and to be honest, I don't eat much because I'm rarely hungry. When I am hungry, it's for meat or other protein foods, fairly rare around here. Anyway- I had an interview on Monday but got so funky that I was afraid to drive- had two very close calls locally- so moved it to tomorrow. :note to self: Eat! Do not neglect regular insertion of food into mouth!

One of the jobs I do at the deli is breading chicken to be deep fried. I never noticed it before, but the pink unbreaded flaps of skin and flesh look oddly, umm....labia-like. It was kind of a shock the first time I noticed it. No, I *don't* have a dirty mind. YOU bread a few cut pieces of chicken with skin and fat hanging down, take a good look, and then get back to me, if you think so! Besides, I don't think of sex or gentials as dirty.

What is dirty:
  • Acting stupid and hung up about sex
  • Using sex as a mean of aggression and dominance
  • Teaching people that it's shameful or dirty (yeah, they always say it's private, or *special*, not dirty, but the proof's in the pudding, dear.)
  • Hurting people in or with an area that was intended to be sensitive and intimate
  • Attempting to pretend that sex really doesn't exist
  • Expressing hostility towards women through sex (would include most porn, IMO)
  • any combination of sex and a control trip
  • any combination of sex and humiliation
OK, I'm done for now. See, I just got this book- Erotic Art by Taschen (I think that's the title), and I'm a little dismayed about it. Looking through these paintings, I'm appalled at the amount of violence and hatred that I see in these pages. Many of them are not what I consider erotic, they're dirty (see above). Do men really hate women that much? Is that really the way they view women and sex? Ew... :considers lesbianism for a very brief moment: What I'd like to see now is a book of erotic art by women. It'd be an interesting comparison, because only a few- a very few- of the paintings in this book are by female artists. To be continued....

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Been picking up some great books lately, and I find a new source (of used books) every few days. There's an animal shelter combined with a thrift store - both recent additions to our small town. To be honest, I've tended to view animal shelters with a degree of scorn. There are so many needy people out there, including children, and even if you don't much like people there are other causes to devote time and energy to that seem more worthy. There are TOO MANY cats and dogs running around the world. It ticks me off. People get so stupid about them. Oh, all right. I get stupid about the goats. Before the goats I did have cats and dogs (the goats surpass them in so many areas that four legged house pets aren't appealing anymore) and I was pretty danged stupid/feely about felines and some canines. I used to spend inordinate amounts of time working with animals that had almost no practical use and drained off large sums of money for pet food and shat all over the yard or in the garden. I don't miss them. ~Anyway~ it irks me to see some family stuggling to get by, on welfare or barely able to eke out a living, that has 7-8 dogs and a whole fleet of mousers. You see dirty little kids pawing through a litter box or having food snatched out of their hands, the barking is incessant, and wonder where the priorities are...

Then there are the folks who get tired of a pet and just turn it loose any old place, often out in the country, because they haven't got the balls to do what they should, namely, to put it down. The forsaken pets wander around lost, unhappy, bewildered, get run over, go scrounging for food... get picked up and advertised day after day as lost on the radio...or sometimes resort to running stock or raiding much misery do they endure before they're finally shot or adopted or sent to an animal shelter? (Where, by the way, the cycle may start all over again). A bullet is quick, clean, merciful, and leaves no room for false hopes or fantasies of a lovely life for poor old Fido.

So I go into this place, which I'd never have visited were there not books there; there are stacks of free postcards- glossy with either a puppy or a cute kitten- that read SPAY- NEUTER. I felt like applauding. Suddenly I felt that we had something in common after all. I think there are too damned many unwanted pets running around proliferating. The animal shelter is devoted to helping to solve the problem. Why the bad attitude on my part? As I left, we looked at the caged cats through the window. A tortoiseshell tom was nestled in one. I could tell it was a male, because his tail was a mere stump, truncated right next to the body, exposing his sex. The shaved appendage had stitches. Frostbite? A slamming door? A mean man or kid slinging it out the door by the tail, breaking it? A dog attack? Poor thing. I wanted to take it home.... :blush:

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

I fully realize that I've become decidedly disagreeable in the past few years. I'm not really into apologizing for it. Consider: when has change towards my goals and wants (yes that sounds selfish but I'll use it because it's the truth) ever resulted from my being compliant? _Never_ When I've gone along for the ride, swallowed my doubts or misgivings or what I *really* wanted, I ended up in some pretty unpleasant fixes. When I've had the nerve to makes changes happen, and screw what anyone thinks of it (within reason,OK?) that's when I've been able to say: "This is what I wanted. Now I have it."

Otherwise I just sort of float along on someone else's river, going wherever they take me, waterfalls, rapids, boulders, whatever, too bad. I am just fucking sick and tired of that. Noone else is *entitled* to my life, it's mine. When it's screwed up, will they care? No. If I'm not happy and they are, will they care? No, not as long as they can maintain the illusion that I'm happy. They get pissed if I do that. The bottom line is that as long as my condition causes no direct unhappiness to the other party, they care not a whit what's going on from my perspective. So who's selfish? Me, for wanting to run my own life? Hey, I've got no interest at all in running anyone else's. I just don't want to waste another day being unproductive and unhappy, feeling like I've frittered my life away catering to the dictates of other people.

So yes, I'm contrary and obstinate. My life depends on it.

Sunday, February 15, 2004

Hmmm. Still looking for a job. Just tried searching job service, and something about the site cause my browser to shut down. Twice. OK, well, then how about the local paper? Man, that can't be right. The list is only about ten ads long... I tell you, this is not my night. It looks like I might get on at the local grocery store, eventually, but I really need something immediate and that pays better.

Apartments are on hold, since I now have to earn enough money first, which could take a month or two. :arrrrgh!: By that time I suppose the apartment will no longer be available- convenient, isn't it?

Still planning on college in the fall, it's been agony to put it off that long, but this does give me time to get all the ducks in a row.

I'm beginning to wonder why any man would even want a purely domestic woman with no pursuit or real identity of her own, how a guy could want a dependent woman. Seems to me like it'd be a drag. If I were a man or in the market for a gal, I'd want one that was intelligent and had a life and talents of her own. If she said she didn't want that, that she wanted to stay at home, I'd be like...'Whoa, are you *sure*? Why do you want that? Don't you want to *do* something? What's the matter with you, anyway?' and so on... Heh. :-P How could anyone be happy with someone so docile and boring? I've wondered that a lot, but I suppose in a way, it's the measure of a man.

I don't know how much validity there is to astrology, but this passage seems apt: "If you're one of those men who doesn't think it's appropriate for a woman to be skilled in anything except pleasing a man, you're courting real trouble with a Virgo woman....Isn't it nice to be able to appreciate someone who is capable of being her own person? While all woman, and all people, ultimately strive for this, Virgo makes a career and sometimes an art of it. Virgo won't adore you blindly. She'll more likely love you for your flaws and imperfections, because she's a realist...And it can either terrify a man into running eighty miles an hour in the opposite direction, or it can be a wonderful cooling bath to actually be able to be yourself. But then, it depends on the sort of man you are, doesn't it?"


Friday, February 13, 2004

The rap CD turned out to be OutKast. I like it. Perhaps that seems odd- here I am a white girl...but I can't help my color, and the fact is that I spent a good chunk of my childhood in the ghetto of Chicago, where my peers and friends were either black or latino, for the most part. Man, how I hated being so white, it was not a benefit in that context. I always envied the natural sense of rhythmn and movement, the style that the black girls had. And then, there I was, shy skinny little tomboy with no mother, surrounded by fuller figured, outgoing girls who had a strongly maternal really sucked, to tell the truth. Anyway, a portion of one of the songs:

Nigga, you need to git up, git out and git somethin
Don't let the days of your life pass by
You need to git up, git out and git somethin
Don't spend all your time tryin to get high
You need git up, git out and git somethin
How will you make it if you never even try
You need to git up, git out and git somethin
Cuz you and I got to do for you and I
Yeah. That's about it. Hey, I'm trying... really I am.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

I have a big stack of books that I'm debating whether or not should be listed on Ebay. He's threatening to discontinue the internet service. As I see it, I have three options:
  • Pay the bill myself- I could do that.
  • Beg him to pay it- offends my sense of dignity, and capitulation would come at a price.
  • Let it all slide, and be forced to go to the library two or three times a week, for a 30 minute session with library hags hanging over my shoulder- ugh...
I have to decide soon, and I can't really afford to let it go. Suppose in the end, I'll pay it, though that kind of frosts me since the cost isn't really the issue so much as *control*, and I have little money to squander. OTOH, the books that I sell will more than pay for it.

After Christmas, this is a bad time of year for me. There are three problematic days within a two week period:
  • The 7th- my anniversary. Fraught with awkwardness this year.
  • The 14th- don't even get me started. I *hate* Valentines Day. What's wrong with me, that I'm surrounded by women who are apparently worth buying boxes of candy, flowers and cards for, while I never have been? Yes, I KNOW!! I'm being childish. It's just a physical phony display, and I'd feel dismayed if I received such a show and couldn't put my heart into returning the sentiments. But it's sort of like my birthday and the tone of my life in general- every year just highlights that I'm essentially a failure.
  • The 17th- My first fiance proposed to me on this day, and declared his love for me. He was the only one who was ever really able to make me believe it, and then (a year later) I discovered I'd been duped, that he was shallow and a ladies man. So every time the 17th rolls around, I'm thinking "please, please, will someone prove that Daniel Haugen wasn't the closest to the real thing I'll ever have, that I was worth more than that?" Nobody ever does.
*sigh* OK, I'm done now. :turns switch off on 'feeling' , goes back into 'thinking':
Had a really good day today, all things considered. Nothing earthshaking, just good. I've found some work drawing patterns for a professional quilter. This gal has had books published by Debby Mumm, and one of them was the best seller in Europe by that (very successful) company. It's fun work, decent pay, the work will be credited to me in the books, and mayeb it'll be a leg up onto more work in the field. I like quilting but lack the follow through, because I prefer hand work, but by the time I've finished hand piecing and quilting a bed size quilt, I can hardly bear to look at it. I'm the sort who always has more ideas than time to do them, and shackling myself to one prject for years on end, long after it's stale, isn't fun anymore. So this job is just perfect. If only I could do more of it and support myself with it...I have an idea that getting a graphic design background will help. Probably I could design and sell my own ideas and patterns.

I hit several stores today and found some great books:
  • Art of the Amazon cool feathered headdresses and other neat stuff...
  • The great Artists- Van Gogh Thin, cheap book but big full color pictures of his work
  • Made in Illinois- An Artisan Gallery What I've glimpsed so far is beautiful- hand blown glass, wood carvings, pottery, and so on
  • The Elements of Style Classic, didn't have it yet. Now I do.
  • Brave New World I've read this already, but wanted to get it. I've been assembling a library of must-read type books to loan to friends and to generally have around.
  • The Art of Kissing Prize of the day. Strangely enough, more erotic than the Hite Report or maybe even Beardsley.

Speaking of Beardsley and such things, I still haven't gotten the book I ordered, in fact there are now two like that (the second one is by Taschen) supposedly in the mail. Ugh, I hate waiting, finding the mailbox empty each day.

Seems like something else happened...ah, I was given four CD's without cases. I had no idea what they were. So far one is Rap, and I like it; reminds me of Chicago. I haven't listened to the others yet, but hey, they were free! Anyway, I'm having so much fun with books right now that I'm considering applying for work at a used book store; failing that, possibly the library.

Sunday, February 08, 2004

I've realized anew that I feel very comfortable and at ease in the company of men, moreso by far than that of women. It makes sense: I was raised by a single dad from 7-14. Before that, from 3-7, I lived with his parents and younger brothers. My uncles were only seven and eight years older than me, so they were more like brothers. I avoided the women in the family and spent the bulk of my time alone or tussling with my favorite person in the world, uncle Charlie. I loved him with the sort of fervour that I've felt for very few since.*

All my life, I've preferred men. They seem simpler and more straightforward than women, but it's more than that. I'm out of my element with other women, even those that I like. They seem unstable and emotional, and prone to change loyalties based on feelings or whims. They look down on me, because I'm not feminine. No, I'm not, and I don't particularly want to be. The only time I do feel feminine is when I'm in love, and I don't know that it's so much feminine as it is female- and perhaps a bit more domestic than usual. The rest of the time, I'm fairly androgynous, or feel that way. It's a little inconvenient, because people read me as small, vulnerable girl, (ick!) and not an intelligent one at that. Dealing with people's expectations is such a fricking pain....ugh. The women friends that I do have, have some pretty definite similarities: they all tend to be no-nonsense, blunt, outspoken types who are physically capable and down to earth- traits typically thought of as masculine, and all traits that I prefer men for.

So far, so good. Decent, intelligent men are pleasant. So are forthright, strong women. The problem comes when a man decides that he wants to own me and that I'm unhappy being the way I am, that what I need is someone to shelter and coddle me and give me the chance to bring out all the lacy dresses and ruffly curtains they're so sure I'd love to have, and wait dotingly for him to return each night while I attend to household delights. :excuse me while I get sick: I've gone through this several times now: "When you marry me, you won't ever have to split wood or work outside again, you can stay in the house" "I'll take care of you and you can stay at home and...." "I found something for you- (frilly, beribboned piece of sentimental crap, when I wanted a book)". Do they mistake quietness for meekness and therefore a pliable, womanly nature? That's a mistake, alright...and boy, are they mad and upset when they find it out!

I want to be an equal, a person in my own right, not some sort of an advanced pet. Trying to reform me into the feminine ideal is futile...forget it. No, what it'd take is for someone to like and accept me the way I am.
*footnote- I've thought about Uncle Charlie a lot lately. They say that people typically use the same sex parent as a role model and the opposite sex parent as the one from which they select traits they desire in a mate. Obviously I had problems with this- l had only one parent for the most part, and finding men like him has been disastrous. I've come to think that any prominent same or opposite sex figure the child is attached to can be used as a template. I emulated several aunts and a grandmother besides my mom and dad as role models, so it actually makes a good deal of sense that I'd look beyond my dad in other areas as well.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

More Apprehension
It used to be that when my dad got mad, he never yelled. He just got very, very quiet and cold and unresponsive. And then his hand would fly out. It could be quite unexpected. Now whenever a guy gets very quiet or seems cold and silent, I get all uneasy. Inwardly, I'm flinching already.
My sted-dad was even more unpredictable: he didn't have to be angry to do something mean. Indeed, some of his cruelest moments were when his fat face was wreathed in a sadistic smile and his potbelly rumbled with evil chuckles. Eating dinner next to him was nerve wracking. You never knew if he'd steal the food from your plate, or ridicule the way you shook the salt, or puncture your leg with a toothpick, or zap you with a stun gun. Only one thing was for certain- that *something* would happen. I still hate scenes at the dinner table. You never know what might happen...
Snakes- I'm absolutely, positively, irrationally phobic about them. I've finally gotten to the point where a photograph of one doesn't make my heart jump unexpectedly. I don't know why I hate them, but I do. I hate the sound their bodies make, slithering through dry grass. I hate the graceful, sinous curves of them, even as I admire their beauty. I hate their heads and souless eyes. MOST OF ALL I HATE THE WAY THEY SNEAK OUT OF NOWHERE AND SURPRISE YOU! Why? Because- I can't go into any area where I've recently seen a snake, or where a snake might be, without worrying about it. There doesn't have to be a snake present. The knowledge that there may be is enough to ruin the experience for me, because I'm constantly dreading encountering one at close range. If there was a warning, if they were neon orange or two feet tall so I could see them, I wouldn't be half as afraid of them as I am.
Conspiracy theories: I used to waste a lot of time worrying about these. Now that was a strain. I decided to save the fear for things that I could *do* something about. But think about it for a moment. The big factor in a conspiracy theory is the fear, the apprehension of what 'they' might do to you, and who 'they' might be, and when they'll do it. If you knew who it was, what they were going to do, and when, much of the fear would evaporate, and people would simply prepare or take action until they could feel secure again, like they did for Y2K.
Nightmares- think about it: which kinds are the scariest? The ones where you never see your stalker or monster or whatever, right? Or where you see it, but it never catches you, you're afraid of what'll happen when it does, or in falling dreams- I never land- the expectation of splatting on the ground is what's so scary.

Yeah. It looks like apprehension is the scariest thing of all. (note: the next time you watch the news, keep this in mind. Notice how they milk the viewers for a fearful reaction. Effective, aye?)
Geez. Whatever happend to my resolution to have *fun* this year? :sigh: :-(
To say that I feel hostile would be just a little bit of an understatement. I feel enraged, cornered, trapped, like an animal that'll chew its limb off to get free, even if it subsequently bleeds to death.

I put in an application at the local grocery store. If that isn't incentive to get off my ass and find a good job, I don't know what is. I do _not_ particularly want to work at that place. People, people, noise and more people all day long :shudder: and then probably a low wage on top of it. You know, maybe I should move. I mean out of state. This just isn't working. There are no jobs to speak of here. I guess after the school year ends, I could. School is one of the few positive things in the boy's life right now, and I'm not going to take that from them. I reallyreallyreallyreally need to get the hell out of here, even for a week or two, to get a breather. I don't know what I'd do with the boys, who'd watch them for me...maybe ummm.....yeah. That might work. If I had a destination in mind. Ha. Pipe dreams.

:flutters like a worn, tattered leaf towards the ground:

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Still bleak. Going through The Courage to Heal Workbook right now. Does it help? *shrug* I'm not sure yet. It makes me think though.

Have you ever gotten an injection and cringed at the needle? I used to be positively phobic of shots and needles; it took a nurse or two to keep me from instinctively pulling away just as the nurse was going to jab me. I still don't like them; I'd be a poor diabetic. The nurses everywhere I've been have this terrifying technique: they poise with the needle or syringe, all ready to go, and then they just freeze, about an inch from your flesh.'ll feel something cold...(alcohol swab)....I'm moving the needle towards your're going to feel a'll sting just a little bit...okay....hold still...I'm about to do it.......Arrgh!!! By the time they finally get it over with, I'm a nervous wreck!! Another thing, they tend to want you to watch. Why in the hell I'd want to watch is beyond me. These days I look away, hold very still, and tell them _not_ to tell me, just to do it and get it over with as quickly as possible. They're always surprised at this!

Them- "You don't want to know before I do it?" :look of total disbelief:
Me- "No. Just do it."
Them-(doubtfully) "Well, if you say so..."

I guess they think I'll move at the last minute. The thing is, I expect the pain, but it really isn't much. I can deal with it. It's the anticipation that kills me. Once I feel the needle, it's over, and I don't mind anymore. Anyway, I'm realizing that this dread of bad/painful/unpleasant things happening paralyzes me in a lot of other areas. When I was a kid, I goofed off in church one day. My dad said he'd belt me when we got home. I was in a state of terror. We got home. No spanking...yet. I dreaded that spanking for a day or two. He apparently forgot. I tell you, that incident was far more traumatic than any spanking or other discipline he ever dished out. I couldn't enjoy anything, all I could think of was wondering when the spanking would come. Here are the lyrics to a song by Billy Joel that expresses it perfectly on another angle. All he can think of is the axe (or needle..heh.) Yep. Dread is often worse than the actual event. Maybe.

Current mood? I dunno. Umm, maybe loopy and black at the same time, if that makes any sense. In other words, weird. Yeah, big news huh? Not really.

A line from a song by Depeche Mode keeps running through my head in a continous loop.
Oh, girl..
Lead me into your darkness
when this world
is trying its hardest to leave me unimpressed
just one caress
from you and I'm blessed...
Danged if I know why *this* song. I have noooo idea. I kind of like this CD though; the songs are all parodies of Christian rock and sentiments.

You know, I think it's the line about the world leaving him unimpressed. I can definitely relate to that. Whatever. It's a stupid song.

Monday, February 02, 2004

I've been doing OK with Ebay- selling books there, I mean. Throughout my life, I've been the sort of person who could talk someone out of buying something they were determined to have until I came along trying to sell it. Don't ask me how that was possible, but somehow, I managed to do just that, until Ebay. In the last week I've sold, oh, maybe six or seven books? They all went for very modest prices, but still, I'm pleased about it. This is so painless I can't believe it. I have an idea that I could use a shift to another product or else more profitable books. Records are a dime a dozen here. I even saw some old 45's the other day. Wonder if they're in any sort of demand?

I bought a really cool book there this evening (yeah, yeah...I know, I can see how this is going to work...sell books, spend all the dough buying more..). I can hardly wait to get it. Nope. I'm not telling what it is, until it gets here at least. A clue: art. Think Beardsley. Klimt. Schiele. Rodin..... hehehehe....

I awoke this morning thinking of two things: goats, specifically bucks, and the breeding program; that I need to get my act together. When Sprite and Song both died, it kind of took the heart out of it for me. I'll have to see if there's another doe that I can get attached to, I guess. *sigh*...That isn't the way to go about things at all. It has all the authenticity of someone going to a bar and planning to find someone to fall in love with that same night. Which is to say, none. Whatever. Maybe a doe will be born this spring that I'll love. Until then, I need to pay more attention to them, I hardly look at them any more.

I'm working through a book, the sort you answer questions and write in. It asked me to name places where I feel safe. Upstairs, and...I used to feel that way in the barn. It used to be that when I was upset I'd go and visit with Sprite. It's not the same now. Now it's just a smelly old barn. I'm sitting here wondering what I'll do when I move. There won't be an upstairs. I'll have to make a new nest. Moving on-

The other thing running through my early morning mind: knights. As in chess. If you drew a grid, and highlighted the squares the knight travels over, with the ones it actually landed on brighter or darker, would there be some kind of a pattern possible, as in a repeating pattern that would link back up with itself seamlessly? It seem like this would be possible. I ran the mental image of the knight through series of moves and different patterns. There's probably a program that would crunch this question up in no time flat and take all the fun out of it, because I want the pattern to be *attractive*, or at least intriguing.

Started another book about Japan- The Concubines Tattoo, read about a chapter and chucked it away into the thrift store bag. This is the kind of a book that I'd expect from an occidental mind. The differences between it and Memoirs of a Geisha are glaring. There is no subtlety, the thought pattern is direct and blatant, like an American's. Bleah. I persist in thinking that at least some of the geisha book was actually dictated by a real Japanese woman. An American man couldn't have pulled it off. Anyway, back to the more recent one- not only it is culturally wrong, it also seems historically wrong, many of the details are anglicized, and on top of all trhat, it's homophobic and portrays homosexual men as effeminate, scheming predators (and of course the straight men are the honest ones). Puh-lease!!! Aren't the stereotypes well circulated enough already? For the sake of originality, would it be possible for someone to try a different portrayal? It's not that I have any personal reason to care, but the whole book is full of stupid banalities and overworn points of view. Well, the part that I read. I couldn't hack reading any more of it; my brain rebelled. Oy! It's getting late. Time to turn in.

Thinking about- the paradox of blue jeans. Visually, tight jeans are appealing and somewhat erotic, no? Don't the advertisements depict women with shirts unbuttoned, red lips slightly parted, and a pair of jeans so tight they look glued-on? Close-fitting jeans have a very sexy image. This is odd, because they're made of such stiff, thick, tough material. Tight jeans cramp and pinch sensitive places. They're hard to remove. They have all the softness and tactile sensuality of a coat of armor. They weren't intended, originally, to be tempting. They were utilitarian dungarees for gold miners that'd last and wear like rawhide. Strangely enough, they still feel that way even in their chic, tempting, mutation.

They should make them of something thinner or softer, easier on the body and more sensuous to the touch, like silk, or a thin, fine chenille. Yeah.

Sunday, February 01, 2004

Hey, cool; they finally vanished. I didn't think they were going to.

I finished Catcher in The Rye some time ago. It's funny: at first I thought he was a moron and a loser, but as the story went on, I realized that he deserved a little more credit, that he was just a lonely kid searching for someone to care about and something to live for. In fact, by the time I was through, I felt really sorry for him (I really did...) and upset with the clueless obtuse adults in his life. I began to wonder who was really nuts and screwed up- Holden, who sees through the ritualized phoniness all around him, or the so called 'normal people' that he's always feeling sorry for and depressed about.

I discovered another thrift store that has a steady supply of worthwhile books. I found (to name a very few) at least three by Pearl S. Buck, a variety of sci-fi, and I don't know what else; oh, some classics like Shakespeare and Bronte, etc.. also a Far Side book. I laughed so hard over this last night that I resolved to save the rest of it for the next time I'm feeling deeply, darkly depressed. I mean, there is just no way one could read it and not lighten up!! Gary Larson is great. :-)