She is just sooo fabulously mysterious. And such a nut, to boot. Well, I can't be sure she's a nut, I mean there could be plausible reasons for her fashion, or maybe it's just that: an attempt at fashion. Whatever the case, she is one to be revered and who has made a place for herself among all the various elmwood denizens. Like an urban myth almost, except she's real. Yes, we now know that she is real, and not just a phantasm or figment. How is this? you ask. Well, I'll tell you. She has been photographed, and the picture, albeit somewhat blurrily, does reflect her appearance and not just an amorphous glob of white light as I had expected. The most embarrasing part is that she was caught by none other than the infamously retarded and inane riordan. I will spare but on sentence in describing him, he deserves no more of your attention. The Beast (never having the highest of editorial standards) was at one time funny enough that it was almost tolerable (at least Taibi was something of a real journalist). Now (and here's the sentence) it is headed by the riordan (remember the Artvoice cover article about homelessness), who has taken any shred of journalism and turned it into invariably juvenile rantings that just plain aren't funny (unless you are maybe 12, just maybe). It's gotten to the point that I won't even pick up the Beast anymore, though it's free and next door. For more on the riordan talk to theresa, she has lots to say. What I really wanted to talk about was the Lady in White. What makes her tick, what is she thinking, is she really real or is the picture a fake? These are all important questions. Well, I may have an answer! (or at least part of one). So I heard through the grapevine that she is a black woman who hates being black and hates black people. I can't vouch for the veracity of this statement, but it has come from an anonymous source close to the individual. Whew...so refreshing to get gossip off one's mind.
OK, so I thought I was done, but then, as if from outerspace, arrived this astonishing picture. Take a look.

I am a bit breathless, give me a moment...
We see here that the White Lady is by no means alone on this earth, there are others (and lets not call them crazies) who somehow through fate, chance, or the guiding tutelage of visiting alien demons have become just as striking and disturbing. What is this feeling burning through my veins? I'm not sure but I'm really starting to doubt my atheism. I mean when such astonishing powers can be granted to mere mortals, we must believe that somewhere there is a couterweight, could it be? god, are you there?

Yay! Links to some of my most favoritest things on the web. Nice.

I look like a weirdo and a psycho in normal life, so don't take this picture as all there is. I look much less depressed usually. It's almost party time. Whoopie! Also, I went to a really fun neat party, in a crazy old fancy house, with crazy cool fancy people. Co-op house rules.

The party was a fabulous success (at least this is what I hear from others who remember). I used all of the four hours I was up and aware on Saturday, and not cleaning, langourously stretched upon my couch. Sunday had many more hours, but not much more in the way of results. Today is Monday and I am back from afterpartyneverland. The house is back too. life should be good. It's raining. I wanted to have a much better entry today, but the computer is broken. I think Matt is stuck in the bathroom. I should let him out.

OK...he's safe now. God save the children, and that's all I have to say on that. So Paul set up this webcam thing and it's on as long as this computer is on. And ther are two cameras on outside and one inside. And there is this little window that pops up when I turn the computer on and it asks me to do something, and I'm usually not paying attention and I keep turning the camera on in the house. This is my apology to all the bitches who never want to see my cute ass on the camera and may at one time in the future have that opportuinity. And to the rest of you: Cheerio!

Man, I hate when I get caught up in excitability, especially over a grownup techno child star. Like waking from an acid trip or something, er, so I would imagine, uh yeah. Well I want to talk about plants, and how they are a great and easy replacement for children in our lives. Nature (or my social environment) has chosen to give me (and apparently many others) a desire to take care of (and/or absolutely dominate/control) a being which is moslty helpless; this is commonly referred to as parenting. At this point it is abundantly clear that way too many people are finding this desire and implementing it ad infinitum. I propose that we all learn to subtly interpret these so called instinctual desires on an individual basis rather than blindly giving into the narrowly accepted definitions as focused through our social lenses. Yeah, OK, rambling now. So anyways, plants are real cool. You can get them real small and, through a litle practice and patience, they become glossy green paragons of plantliness. Of course, not all of our (and let's not use the word experiments) children will grow up ideally. Some will never get the proper mixture of nourishment and sustenance that they crave unless slowly guided by a caring hand. You must monitor and steer the course of their eventual development. Care must be taken to not prejudge. Not all plants are created similar, each has its own quirks, which if properly coddled will yield an abundant mixture of fuits (of the physical, emotional, and metaphorical kind). Aw the joy of sculpture.