Oh, one more thing: In honor of the Venus Divine Gillete razor campaign, who kindly gave me a coupon at the Taste of Buffalo (I can take a hint!), I would like to invite you all first to go to their rilly cool site and find your goddess name (mine's Highly Original Leader who Loves Youthfully) and play some super fun games!! Like trivia about which is the right way to shave your bikini line! I mean is there a wrong way!? FUN!

Then I would like you all to suggest your own favorite goddess in response. Mine's Kali, the consort of Krishna, upon whom she steps. Take a look at this great article: . A quote about Kali:

"Kali's four arms represent the complete circle of creation and destruction, which is contained within her. She represents the inherent creative and destructive rhythms of the cosmos. Her right hands, making the mudras of "fear not" and conferring boons, represent the creative aspect of Kali, while the left hands, holding a bloodied sword and a severed head represent her destructive aspect. The bloodied sword and severed head symbolize the destruction of ignorance and the dawning of knowledge. The sword is the sword of knowledge, that cuts the knots of ignorance and destroys false consciousness (the severed head). Kali opens the gates of freedom with this sword, having cut the eight bonds that bind human beings. Finally her three eyes represent the sun, moon, and fire, with which she is able to observe the three modes of time: past, present and future. This attribute is also the origin of the name Kali, which is the feminine form of 'Kala', the Sanskrit term for Time. "

so i got a elmwoodstrip email from an out-of-town lurker, a ghost that lurks my memories everyday anyway, try as i may to forget. he found me on this, the big book of shit, as it were. the first moment i opened the mail i felt exhilarated, elated, devastated and jaded all at once. baggage, anyone?

have you ever had your life "gutted", e-peepers? like on this old house or something when they completely redo the insides of a house and they rip everything out and start over again? the outside looks the same more or less but the interior is totally changed. only a supporting wall or a firey place might be saved. has that ever happened to anyone out there?

so even republicans are saying that now that kerry has named a running mate he should get as much as a 15 point bump in the polls during the month of july. hopefully now that he's tapped edwards and the DNC is fast approaching, he'll be able to put a less wooden face on things. the good news is that even though kerry has been running such a crummy campaign bush seems to be losing it for him... his approval ratings are at the lowest rate they've ever been, and under the 50 point mark. there are all these cool mojo formulas for predicting presidential races. one of them is that an incumbent with approval ratings under 50% at this point in the race never wins. of course, i've heard some also very credible braiiins say things about in an economy this good, and low interest rates, yadda yadda, the incumbent never loses. oh yeah, except in one instance. bush senior.

so john edwards. i do like him, although he's a little clintonesque in a skeevy way maybe. but he's a populist, and very charistmatic, it's true. maybe he'll help people see the "softer side of kerry". it's strange to me that he's such a good campaigner and great speaker and yet he didn't win but one primary, and that in his home state. what goes on in the minds of these white haired old dems? either way, he's big with undecideds, independents, and swingers, i mean swing voters, who are about the only voters who anybody cares about in this unprecedentedly polarized election. when i heard the announcement on my clock radio this morning, i was so relieved, since all the polls have shown that the kerry/edwards matchup would be the best. although i feel like kerry read those polls too, which is a little calculating (this is one of the criticisms the bush camp is gonna lob at him.) but with edward's politician smile and grassroots style, we could be looking at 16 years of democrats. maybe by then the rebulicon gestation period will be over and their thoraxes will explode or they'll just return to their home friggin planet fer fuck sake!

Sorry Paul, the lung crusties are still cute... [inlink]paul,1261[/inlink]

This is a pretty scary story Robin told [inlink]robin,214[/inlink] about getting mugged on Franklin Street. With all the vitriol of my new conservative curmudgeon phase, I say we form an Angry Horde, maybe get some pitchforks, torches, that kinda stuff. We can mob the street looking for her assailant but, like any good angry mob, kick the shit out of some completely innocent bystander who is not related to the crime in any way. Then mob justice will be served.

Seriously though, I hate to say shit like this, but maybe young women should have someone walk them to the door? I know I always wait when I drop a woman friend off at her house to make sure she gets inside safely. I hate that I, we, have to be more paranoid, and I hear myself thinking vaguely lascivious warnings like "so much more than your purse could be stolen". I don't want to live a life of fear, but here it is, women getting their purses stolen on a street we wander down drunk all the time.

As for cops, I'm not opposed to calling them when the shit goes down, which is why I bad-mouth them a lot less these days. I feel like a hypocrit when I'm all like "fuck the po-lice" then call them as soon as someone is lost in a blizzard or something. That's what they should do for society, I think.

But Steve Kurtz has been smacked down by the thought police-- the protectors of paranoia, the propigators of permanent war. I was thinking the other day about how they put Ulysses, the book, on trial for obsenity. Wily Ulysses won out in the end. But only because the judge had a smidgeon of subtlty and aesthetic sensitivity. What I keep hoping is that Steve will get some judge who has enough sense to say "This is Art, not Terror!"

Congrats to all the nascent non-smokers, but I thought the lung crusties were really cute! I heart you, my leetle lung crusties!
[inlink]paul,1257[/inlink]

Did anybody happen to notice that the handover we've all been waiting for happened on Monday? Where was I? Why wasn't I told? I'm beginning to think this government of mine doesn't want me to be part of its descision making process at all! Hmmphh!

Signed,
the young curmudgeon

On purpose. Before even taking my coat off. Who knew? I'm middle-aged. Getting naked at dawn on a work night just struck me as well... pointless. God that's how old I am. (I hear all the youngsters in the house hooting "pointless is the point!"). I see a long line of bookshelves for this librarian, stretching into infinity and my approaching decrepitude. What's that sonny? You're looking for "The Eight Moral Pillars of Alienated Labor?" Why that's just down this aisle (said in a scratchy granny voice... pretty much what I sound like now after a night of smokin' and boozin'). My knees are creaky, my tongue is mossy, my eyes are shot through with oily red veins. From now on I'm staying inside like a good recluse and dedicating myself to bizarre, reflexive artworks. Am I too young to be a curmudgeon?

So the morning after the co-op prom (still chaste not chased!) I drove to PA to visit my fam. It's so nice to live close to them after being away from home at various schools since I was 13. It's strange to think how much of me comes from them. I really feel like "one of a type" when I'm with them. We look alike, talk alike, think alike. I feel really conscious of obvious family stuff like that now that I'm here in Buffalo and older.

We ate good food (courtesy of the Tastee Freeze (mmm... wing dings) and the Fireman's chicken barbecue. Basically out of what we ate we could have reconstructed a hideous chickenzilla with 6 breasts and forty wings.) And watched depressing movies, Cold Mountain, and House of Sand and Fog, the latter of which I highly recommend for some gut wrenching catharsis.

My sister and I talked about why we don't have more ambition. We decided that ambition is too much work. And besides, for people like us, sometimes just getting out of bed and going through the day is accomplishment enough. (We're a little melodramtic, in case you didn't notice.)

So I'm back today and went to work. Making a Flash animated book of a Japanese folk tale that has a kind of word-by-word bouncing ball effect for a literacy project. Except the bouncing ball is a duck. Long story. Anyways, in the process of making it I went down to the main branch of the library at the suggestion of my friend Tim (an awsome poet and playwright, maybe another journal entry) and took out a bunch of music from Japan, which is so beautiful and various. I know at first it all sounds the same, but there really are different types... Shinto ritual music and geisha music (another journal entry) and Koto music and wild drum music... it's not all twang twang toooot toooot trust me.

I also took out a CD of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. He's from India. I want to live in his music. It makes me feel so alive. If you haven't heard him before please go out and find something. He's fairly popular, with stuff in all the "world music" sections. Jewleh Lal! Jewleh Lal!

I spent the afternoon reading "The God of Small Things." Me and all of Buffalo. Heh. But as Terry and others have said, it is truly wonderful. Too bad I took a nap afterwards and had some profoundly bizarre dreams. It's hard for me to shake off a weird dream sometimes, I kind of have an aftershock effect that lingers all day.

So to any E-peepers who have read this far, and who have met me face to face, would you be interested in a camping trip to the Strip Mines in my home town this upcoming weekend? My cousin called my sister and asked her to be part of her daughter's (my cousin's) first camping trip. I figure every seven year old should have a crowd of rowdy twenty-somthings on her first occasion, right? The one drawback is that my cousin can be a little bitchy, but all the more reason to come in large numbers. Anyways, I know a lot of us have talked about a camping trip, and we pretty much all have Monday off. And the Strip Mines are heavenly, see Matthew's journal [inlink]matthew,261[/inlink]. Email me if you're into it, and I'll see if it will work out.

damn work dammy damn it! just cause i only had four stupid hours of sleep the night before and had to work this morning I went home last night a cheesy 1am. AND MISSED THE NAKED DANCE PARTY! I always do. which makes me wonder, maybe it's like the bear shitting in the woods conundrum. if everyone gets naked and i'm not there to see it, does that mean that people only wear their clothes when I'm around? do i have that librarianesque buzz kill effect on people? someone would tell me if i do, right?

Here is a haiku for all the haikusters and my friend Sarah, who is in Vienna getting chatted up, lucky duck:

dreams of falling up
from my work chair into desk
top blue atmosphere

I'm working with a prof from UB on a proposal for a conference on surveillance. We decided to do reality television, one of the subcategories. Here is the abstract I wrote. Props to my friend Brian, who lent me the tapes of the show, and actually kinda gave me the idea. Here's the link to the Swan site:

And here's the abstract:

Fox's reality show "The Swan" comprises diverse perspectives of spectatorship which organize it into modes of surveillance and theatricality. The participants in this beauty pageant have several traits in common: most are young, married women; though few have positive male presences in their lives. Their main similarity is their exaggeratedly negative impression of their bodies; thus they submit to the drastic cosmetic surgery, psychological evaluation, and imposed isolation the contest requires. Because of their dysmorphic body views, they figuratively cannot "see" themselves. Upon entering the contest, they are not allowed to look at themselves in the mirror during the transformation. Literally, they cannot see themselves. The viewer however, has a panoptical view of the entire process, from graphic depictions of surgery, to close-focus intimate interviews and candid hand-held digital footage. These documentary views are highly contrasted with the heavily filtered, theatrical interludes with the specialists: the glamorous surgeons, dentist, personal trainer, and therapist who undertake the clinical and psychological overhaul of the contestant. In the end, she is "revealed" in a staged setting, seeing herself for the first time in a mirror that is dramatically concealed behind a red velvet curtain. The viewer's perspective is behind the two-way mirror. We see her seeing herself for the first time. Almost universally, her first observation is an expression of misrecognition, exclaiming "Is that really me", while looking at her observer. These modes of spectatorship highlight the disconnection between seen and seer, and the unreliability of observation in a society based on surface and spectacle.