Dada Buddhist Biker Punk's Friends
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Below are the most recent 25 friends' journal entries.
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| Thursday, January 7th, 2010 |
enolarama
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5:00p |
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slutbunwalla
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6:17p |
Posted using TxtLJ
i just got my laptop stolen. with one of my dvds from my box set of the boosh in it. and 165 days of unbacked up data. and my soul. heartbroken. broken. |
sabotabby
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8:47p |
Your arcane rituals, show me them
Stolen from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) caudelac in a poker game with the Devil: If I were a summonable monster, how would you summon me? (Include items to lure monster-me and method for said fell ritual.) Current Music: Jonas Brothers, someone's car alarm, and neighbour's movie. FML. |
bonniegrrl
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4:59p |
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avulsionist
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6:31p |
Yay! made it through the day without coffee! take that JetLag, waking me up at 6am all week! |
ianmcdonald
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11:41p |
First Lady Gaga
from slimmeroftheyea from last year: The Prince of Darkness's Wife (from me: in NI Office speak fro ma few years back; Peter Robinson)Was in the cafe in my place of work on Friday wrapping cutlery in festive napkins. And I swear I hadnt been drinking. (now we know why...) |
bonniegrrl
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2:52p |
General Grievous Finger Puppet Craft
 I always enjoy making puppets. Perhaps it's the kid in me who never grew up. I secretly wanted to get lost on Sesame Street and stay there. In fact, my mom used to wake me up as a child with a Kermit puppet so I imagine that's why I'm drawn to making toys that have a bit more life in them. The more puppets I make for Starwars.com, the more I realize that at some point I need to put on a puppet show. Maybe like Punch & Princess Leia? Perhaps if I can get enough of you to make Star Wars puppets, we can do a flash mob puppet show at Comic-Con? Who's in? Either way, I hope you crafty kids, Star Wars fans and amateur puppeteers out there have fun with my latest craft! General Grievous Finger Puppet(via Starwars.com) |
lilmissnever
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2:23p |
This is Not My Decade in Review
I am not reviewing my decade. I am not even reviewing my year. This isn't because I have anything in particular against 1999-2009 or even 2009 itself. I am a little grateful to 2009 for not being 2008. I rang in the New Year and neither my cat nor my father was dying. 2008 helped me set the bar nice and low every year to follow. I enjoyed having some time off from the Mysterious Workplace, even if I did not enjoy the untamed horror of my Inbox when I returned from the winter holidays. Some legitimate legal issues that needed immediate attention came through (there is a special place in hell for law firms that send out subpoenas just before Christmas), but it was awfully hard to pick them out of the mountain of emails from people who misunderstand the law, misinterpret the Mysterious Workplace's position on key issues, have cases involving child porn, believe that the police killed their mother while they were in prison, would like money for having invented a new way of deriving large prime numbers, feel the need to tell me that they are stockpiling guns in their homes because of some unclear threat to their families which I am unable to relate to digital civil liberties, or believe that the NSA has posted a video of them shaving their pubic hair on YouTube. My phone rang non-stop with demands from police-killed-my-mother-guy, who did not understand why we would not file an appeal on his behalf after he was convicted of sending threatening emails to his local police department. No sooner had he stopped calling (and emailing and FAXing and bothering my assorted co-workers) then I spent half an hour on the phone with a sobbing, hysterical woman who wanted the Mysterious Workplace to change the wiretapping laws in the state of Florida because her husband, now deceased, had been brought up on criminal charges whose nature I could not decipher based on evidence obtained from a wiretap in which he had asked the undercover officer, "You're not taping this, are you?" and the officer assured him that, no, he was not. I received books in the New Year, which I immediately devoured. I have been away from my books for almost three months. The new Pratchett is quite good, in spite of being about sports. The new Mieville is fantastic hard-boiled noir-ish, so fantastic that I am reading it slowly, so that I might have time to digest. The book about drugs in the Victorian era is mediocre and should be ignored. The anthology of academic essays about cybercrime and the law is useful, though probably only to myself. In a week, I will have my full collection of books back in my possession and I will feel human again. I also look forward to having a fast, stable internet connection, premium cable channels, and a DVR so that I do not have to watch commercials. I look forward to the return of my comfortable furniture and the ability to cook at home, using the nice pots and pans. I look forward to plumbing that works properly and dresser drawers that are free of stinky, deceased vermin. I look forward to hanging art on my walls again and feeling as if the place where I live is mine and not a room full of other people's stuff, especially not when those people live next door and I am hear them every time they leave the house, or they play the stereo in the living room, or their dog starts yapping, and all that I can think of is that if I can hear them, then they can hear me and what I do in my living room is none of their damned business. I will be very glad when my life in no longer packed away in cardboard boxes. I want to have a home again. I will be glad when my lats and my triceps stop aching. I should never have bragged that I was not sore after Tuesday night's rope seminar. It turned out that the pain was just biding its time - it was waiting to sneak up on me. The teacher is from Santa Cruz, where the prevailing style of corde lisse is twisty and loose-limbed, with abrupt changes in direction and counter-intuitive pacing. It's an entirely different animal from the rigid, gymnastics-influenced style of the Very Serious Circus School. I fear that this seminar may be a little beyond me, because I spend most of my time feeling confused and looking foolish, but this is not a hobby for people who are profoundly attached to their dignity. I spent so much energy wrapping my brain around these strange new movements that I didn't worry about my body much. Now it hurts. I will go back again tonight. And Friday. I can only hope that this pain in my head indicates that I'm learning something. Indeed, I will take this as my motto for the new year. 2010: I hope this pain in my head indicates that I'm learning something. It will be a year of unbridled optimism. And ibuprofen. |
tongodeon
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12:19p |
Sending a Message
This article pretty much nails one of my main problems with the Bush Years particularly, politics categorically, and the reason why I'm an objective pragmatist generally. "We don't own our messages, and we can't control how others view us." Regardless of the message that you want to send, you might end up shooting yourself in the foot with the message that's actually received. |
jwz
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11:54a |
Fanboy Supercuts, Obsessive Video Montages
Annoyingly, most of these have been pulled already, e.g. "House: every 'lupus' reference": This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by NBC Universal. Fuck you, NBC Universal. How do you imagine that nuking this video helps your bottom line? "Gosh, I was going to watch House, but now that I've seen all the lupus references at once, I guess I won't bother."
Current Music: Little Boots -- Stuck on Repeat |
jwz
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11:41a |
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deadlyicon
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11:30a |
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tellthebees
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6:01a |
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drjon
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9:13p |
Next Up:
"What I Did On My Holidays", or "Koo Koo Ka CHOOOO!". tomorrow, after the panadeine work. |
bonniegrrl
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1:05a |
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drjon
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6:26p |
purge in progress
letting go some links to the past year's R‽pocalypse. surprising what was there that i'd forgotten. will check some more stuff later. need coffee now. my sympathies to anyone who feels slighted--I know how you feel. |
jetkat
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12:04a |
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djmermaid
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12:04a |
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dougygyro
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12:03a |
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| Wednesday, January 6th, 2010 |
tnkgrl
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11:50p |
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| Thursday, January 7th, 2010 |
deadlyicon
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12:29a |
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| Wednesday, January 6th, 2010 |
mooflyfoof
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10:10p |
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gnat23
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10:04p |
Cat-shaped hole in my heart
 Raise a glass, sing her name, and praise her long (15 and 3/4 years!) and beautiful life! Her Royal Highness, my best friend, the fluffy feline MOSFET* has trotted her way across the Rainbow Bridge on this dark grey day. I will not describe the harrowing tale of her last week of life, a bravely fought medical battle which amounts to such a short fraction of her wonderful reign. I would rather instead to remember her joyful demeanor, her musical mews and squawks upon my arrival home, and her enduring habit to snooze, every single night, purring upon my chest until I had drifted into slumber. Her younger years brought kneading muffins into my flesh until it tickled, her elder years evolved a deep comforting purr that could set off nearby car alarms. She loved to rest her chin upon nearby objects and rumble so that her whole body would undulate. Her ultimate sport was to hunt was shadows cast from a human hand onto a sunny wall. Second prey to that was a catnip-infused cloth cigar which was flung until the air and pounced and chewed upon until it was disemboweled. She was an indoor cat for her entire adult life, but it didn't prevent her from clicking her sharp teeth at the birds orbiting the feeder on the other side of the window. She had a spot on the floor where she shed 90% of her fur and made vacuuming more efficient. She loved entering the bathroom whenever anyone had to pee to lean against their shins, and sometimes she'd peek into the shower to ensure that the occupant had not drowned. She was sometimes my shadow and would follow me from room to room without complaint as I wandered. Sometimes, in frustration, she would attempt to lift up or destroy a patch of carpet by working it over with her front claws. Another hobby was sitting on top of anything you were trying to read. Her favorites were being scritched on either cheek, massaged on and around her ears, and rubbed under her chin. Petting her full body usually made her stand up. Her special occasion gourmet treat was to lap the water drained from a can of chunk tuna. Her name originated from a physics class I was involved with as a teenager, during which myself and other classmates were puzzling to recreate how our professor had rambled from the topic of quantum physics to basic electronic circuitry without pause or transition. The only logical connection, we agreed, was that Schrodringer's Cat had to have been named MOSFET. It struck me as obscurely had-to-be-there-funny then as it still does now. (A friend in college thought this was also clever and later named his own cat CMOS) She briefly even held a career as Industrial Records' A&R rep. As she was patrolling the live/work loft one day, it occurred to us that having mail addressed to her would separate the dozens of demo tapes we got every week from the urgent bills and official correspondence. The crowning moment was when we read a letter from a hopeful singer/songwriter describing how he had met MOSFET at a club and how she had insisted that he send his tape in for consideration. It took me a long time to place her ancestry, being mostly mutt but showing distinctive features such as extra spikes of coarse fur off the tips of her ears and between each toe, not to mention the feather duster that was her tail. It appears she was a Siberian, which also came to explain how no one I ever lived with ever complained of symptoms; Siberians do not produce the antibody that causes the feline allergy in humans. Inadvertently, I had gotten a hypoallergenic cat. Don't know if I can do that on accident ever again. So the Queen of her Domain and the Pink-haired One lived together with love and joy, happily ever after. I have no doubt we gave each other the best life possible, full of unconditional love. Having her with me my entire adult life tho has left me in a bit of a dumb stupor. I don't know what the other side of this looks like, without her by my side and under my feet. All I can hope for is that she is at peace and remembers in spirit our companionship. I miss you, you fuzzy bastard. I love you and can only thank you for being the best companion a girl could ever ask for. Be well, and sleep peacefully upon the chest of the universe.  * Also known as: Misfit, Moose-Feet, Jingles, Kit-Ton, Crankykitty, Mews-fit, Babygirl, Fluffball, Hairball, Furry Creature, Munchkin, Munch, Miss Kitty, Cat-Face, Klutz, Creature, Critter, Miss Merry MOSFET, Miss Thang, Fuzzbutt, Princess, Mischief, etc etc. |
vebelfetzer
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9:27p |
TOMORROW: 17×17 SWEATSHOP feat. new art: “Berlin by San Francisco”
Originally published at Gibberings. You can comment here or there. 
TOMORROW: 17×17 SWEATSHOP feat. new art: "Berlin by San Francisco", originally uploaded by vebelfetzer.
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This is a laser-cut stencil of one of my previously-unreleased graffiti art sprays. It is brand new, has never been sold, and tomorrow will be your chance to get an original spray from this stencil on canvas, paper, or the surface of your choosing. Call them "original prints", if you will.
Bring your own surfaces! Stencil is approximately 11 x 17", so make sure your surface is big enough.
Original prints, made to order, while you watch.
SWEATSHOP 17×17
hosted by the X17 Gallery
619 Western Ave
Seattle, WA
6pm-10pm |
enolarama
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5:01p |
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