huzzah!

Finally.

For at least three weeks, I will actually be employed. Yeah, it's Pier 1 and it's only $7/hr but at this point I don't really care.

AND I might actually finally be moving soon. Though the seemingly endless hospitality and goodwill of Josh and Jigga will forever leave me grateful, I am looking forward to moving into a different space.

In another shocking movement of hotness, my employment should be ending right around the time Mardi Gras starts, and my friend Mary has already made her intentions to get me to accompany her QUITE clear. Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!

tagged

OK, so I was actually going to wait until I could offer some substantiation on my newest job lead, which is admittedly sub-glamorous (Pier 1) but it's not nearly as sub-sub-glamorous as NEVER HAVING ANY FUCKING MONEY. So, hopefully things will go well with that. Not that discussing jobwoes and moneywoes is particularly interesting or relevant, but it is hard to get out of one's own headspace on one's own blog.

Other news: successfully tamed weird blue/purple/gray hair with cheap black dye, looks fantastic and normalish.

Basically, I'm bored, boring and it's about to get worse - I've been tagged! All the sweet nothings you've longed to know, yet feared to inquire upon.

Four jobs I’ve had:
1. Contract term paper writer
2. Publication designer
3. English assistant
4. Waiter

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Any of the Thin Man series
2. A Life Less Ordinary
3. Drop Dead Gorgeous
4. Deep Red Hatchet Murders (treasured low-budget Dario Argento crapterpiece)

Four places I’ve lived:
1. Paris
2. Missoula, MT
3. Seattle, WA (and a big fuck you to that place)
4. Morlaix, France

Four TV shows I love:
1. Six Feet Under
2. Daily Show
3. Buffy
4. Adult Swim

Four places I’ve vacationed:
1. Amsterdam
2. Edinburgh
3. New Orleans
4. Berlin

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. General Tso's chicken
2. Zuchini wild rice frittata
3. A good caesar salad is of great value to me
4. SOmething like a simple cheap pate/baguette sandwich, pulled from a backpack and munched down on the road to travelly adventure (especially if there's a bottle of wine clinking in there too).

Four sites I visit daily:
1. Gawker
2. Myspace (definitely developing into a compulsivity)
3. Email (obvious response)
4. Defamer

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. London
2. Bodega Bay, CA (some of the most beautiful Pacific coastline EVER, I think)
3. NYC
4. In the passionate embrace of an indulgent South American millionaire


Four bloggers I am tagging:
I refuse to put myself through the embarassment of tagging people, since no one fucking reads this blog!

yowza

Damn, have I been remiss in my bloggery or whaaaat?!

Finally took the GREs, got a good score, now attempting to feign interest in getting my shit together on grad school applications. Ack!

I have been getting downright creative about financial survival in recent days.

Two dollar poker buy-in. I beat the pants of five other people to make a glorious $10 profit.

Yesterday, significantly less glamorous, brought about a change-scrounging mission to buy Top tobacco to roll cigs.

Hopefully, employment is on the horizon - trying to be proactive and engaging in correspondance with people I am desperately applying to. Hope, hope.

Until then? Getting high before noon and wasting time by the fistful. Reading an incredible novel by Anthony Burgess called Earthly Powers, which is just epic and sweeping through the 20th century and amazingly well-written.

Tomorrow, I will have forty hot dollars in my hand that represent the last little bit of my viable finances. I've been feeling kind of scared and frustrated with the complete absence of purpose in my life and now I just want to get a fucking job so my time will actually become important to me again, since now all I have is fucking time to waste, waste, waste. It's getting a little out of hand, peeps. This tragically impoverished ten-months-of-brokeass-couchsurfing thing is losing its luster.

at last, the opinion you've truly been waiting for

At last, the moment for me to weigh in on the media cumshot of the moment - Brokeback Mountain. First of all, I have to make me feelings clear on one issue: one aspect of my zany bohemian fashion statement is an obsession with cowboy style button-up shirts. I think the whole idea of cowboy drag, especially when looked at through the lens of films like Midnight Cowboy is fascinating. However, I know that due to the raging popularity of BB, I am going to be labeled a Brokeback Queen or whatfuckingever. It's not so much that it bothers me, but actually it fucking does because people and their fucking assumptions already piss me off semi-continuously. So, I guess I'm saying, 'Fuck you world! I did actually love that fucking movie, but it did not inspire my wardrobe!'

And on that note, YES, I did find it an amazing film. Beloved blogmates Zach and Chris have both made their feelings known on what seems to be the film's most irritating point: its fucking buzz and all the supposed courage of the actors and filmmakers. Guess what, they were doing their jobs! And we just fawn all over them for doing their jobs correctly?

Unforunately, you fucking bet we do. And I don't really think the particular fawnability of this film has to do with the absurdly homosexist notion that two straight men kissing/having a sex scene must be the most horrible thing imaginable for them, wow, how courageous that they did it and did it so well. Obviously, I believe that is bullshit. But it goes hand in hand with our entire society placing such emphatic importance on the lives and loves of these famous idiots. We're fawning all over the TomKat intergalactic lovechild, just by devoting such perpetual lip service by talking, talking talking about how crazy he is.

This train of thought is sailing dangerously towards me ultimate pet peeve yet inescapable fact: that as fun as making fun of how horribly shelter our culture is while watching it happen on TV or at the cheap seats of whatever, IS STILL participating and putting money and ratings towards the very things that should terrify a mind sharp enough to make fun of it. There needs to be a full-on rejection of the emptier parts of our culture that we despise, rather than an affectionate 'how much dumber can this shit get?'

But, I'm not talking about completely rejecting this dominant culture yet, because obviously I am enjoying the endless jibes it offers as much as any dark-humored, HighQ, pop culture junkie. I'm just trying to set stage for the fact that our culture worships celebrity, and that has at least as much to do with what's to blame for all the misplaced attention on BB.

So, the actors are just doing their jobs. But quite honestly, I think they're doing them incredibly well. I haven't seen such compelling, intense, doomed love in a fucking long time. In my opinion, the adaptation is incredible. There are a few extraneous details and a little bit of over-emphasis on the married lives, but it definitely captured the tone and the heart of Proulx's text. I'm the at least the second person to naysay Heath Ledger's acting, but I was amazed by his brooding, nuanced performance - I think it taps a lot into how modern masculinity is such a disguise, that any unexpected or powerful or especially 'unmanly' feelings are so surprising, they inspire primitive responses like violence or demand some other kind of physical release. Jakey G is of course amazing (and obviously a total fucksamich), which is maybe why Ledger is getting more attention, since he usually sucks and this is a pretty drastic upwing.

I was thrilled, upon finally seeing the film, that Ang Lee ended up directing it rather than Gus Van Zant, who probably would have gimmickily ruined the fuck out of it. Ang Lee does have an incredible visual language, which matches well with Proulx's descriptions of Wyoming. The sex scenes were perfect, gay and straight. All of them very honest, across the board.

So here's my ultimate bottom line for this little culture snack: as important as it is not to lend credence to the absurdly tacky and celebrity-obsessed nature of our culture, it is MORE important to recognize and celebrate the good art that is still being created, even if there's a little bit of stupidly skewed press in the way of it.

Also, I partied my ass off on NYE, but I did not get to kiss the dreamweaver, which was truly a tragedy, especiallly since it has never been clearer that he does not, in fact, love the cock. But may be fascinated with cockloving due to some psycho-hetero defeciency that does not end up with my dick between those beautiful lips. Alas, alas! But it was a weird, wild evening all the same. Sorry for the rant, next time I'll just extol the virtues of the new Devendra Bernhart album.

Also, I'm really stoned, so please excuse any and all leaps of logic (I'm sure it's implied at this point anyway).