I suffered through "Van Helsing" the other night. It was begging to be MST3K'd. Then I watched "Plan 9 From Outer Space" - in comparison, a cinematic tour de force. 

I love this... from "Diary: A Novel" by Chuck (Bloody Brilliant) Palahniuk

p.62
  Peter gave her the blank canvas and said, "Paint something."
  And Misty said, "Nobody paint paints. Not anymore."
  If anybody she knew still painted at all, they used their own blood or semen. And they painted on live dogs from the animal shelter, or on molded gelatin desserts, but never on canvas.
  And Peter said, "I bet you still paint on canvas."
  "Why?" Misty said. "Because I'm retarded? Because I don't know any better?"
  And Peter said, "Just fucking paint."
  They are supposed to be above representational art. Making pretty pictures. They were supposed to learn visual sarcasm. Misty said they were paying too much tuition not to practice the techniques of effective irony. She said a pretty picture didn't teach the world anything.
  And Peter said, "We're not old enough to buy beer, what are we supposed to teach the world?" There on his back in their nest of weeds, one arm behind his head, Peter said, "All the effort in the world won't matter if you're not inspired."

then on p.64...
 
  "Plato," Peter says, and he turns his head to spit green slobber into the weeds. "Plato said: 'He who approaches the temple of the Muses without inspiration in the belief that craftsmanship alone suffices will remain a bungler and his presumptuous poetry will be obscured by the songs of the maniacs.'"

=D

Georgetown University Hospital called me this morning and my blood type is a match for my uncle. I'll be scheduling an MRI soon to make sure I have enough liver to go around ;) So, I'll keep my fingers crossed that goes okay but so far so good...

I rented "Wonderland" with Val Kilmer the other night. It was an okay, so-so movie... BUT the bonus dvd had the full length (har har) documentary about John Holmes (da x-rated niggah - sorry, momentary Beasties nod) which was absolutely fascinating. One of my favorite all time movies is "Boogie Nights" and I had no idea it paralleled Holmes' life so closely. I really knew nothing about him other than he had a big penis and starred in a bunch of old pornos I have never seen. Anyway... what a tragic guy. I won't bore you with the whole story, but I encourage you to get Wonderland, just for the documentary. Then go watch Boogie Nights because it is a much better movie.

Ok, so this photographer attended the Halloween party I had a big hand in creating. I figured, this guy is a professional photographer, gallery exhibits, nice portfolio, should be some great freakin pictures. Well, I was really goddamn disappointed when I saw the pics - all 149 of them - online just now. They SUCK! I could have gotten better shots, even as drunk and stoned and tired as I was. I am so damn pissed off. These pictures don't capture one tenth of what was going on that night. If I see this guy, this so called photographer, I am gonna kick his ass up and down the street until my foot either falls off or is shoved so far up his ass I don't want it back.

Here are four pictures I thought were passable. Not good, mind you, but better than the rest of the crap.

Jason dressed as the devil...

The voodoo shrine I created... with real chicken feets! You can buy a whole sackfull of them at the asian market. Mmmm mmmm!

The back of the Hellraiser Room - after navigating through a room packed with chains, you are confronted with Pig Head, cow tongue and other assorted yummies

I can't believe this guy didn't have a date...

I think my blood type is O...
but Im not sure
god I feel freakin ignorant.
I'm going to donate blood to the Red Cross this afternoon to check what type I am. If I am either O or B, then I am going to go ahead with some tests to see if I can be a living donor and give my uncle half my liver.
yes
Im scared

PATIENCE

http://organicparadox.com/01-hosted/brian%20dillon/

Halloween photos finally online:

http://www.charm.net/~jbouchelle/cgi-bin/slideviewer.cgi?list=halloween

Dream I woke from this morning....

I'm in the liquor store and cannot find any ciders. No Woodchuck, no Woodpecker, no Magner's.... I spend a long time walking up and down the aisles, hands pressed against the cold glass doors of the cases. Am I an alcoholic? Why do I feel such desperation? I finally settle on this strange looking stuff from Korea - rock candy malt beverage - a 40 ounce bottle wrapped in colorfully printed rice paper. I am eager to see what my friends think of this strange potable. I also grab a humongous bottle of Evian and head to the counter. I set my water and booze on the counter to get my wallet and when I look up the water is gone. I start to flip the fuck out and pacing back and forth and yelling, "Who took my water?" I get frustrated and go back to get another bottle of water but there are no more. Only small bottles of fruit flavored pseudowater. I'm knocking bottles off of shelves and screaming and throwing a godawful fit. I go back to the counter and a smartly dressed yuppy woman points a trembling finger to my wallet on the counter, fear in her eyes. I snatch it back possessively. I notice my rock candy brew is now missing. I fucking lose it. Someone is obviously fucking with me. In addition to the person workign the cash register there is now an unkempt surfer dude behind the counter. I asked him if he saw a big bottle of Evian. He gets really snooty with me and I almost feel bad when I notice he is holding my 40, damn it. I leap over the counter and start strangling him. There's my water on the floor behind the counter, too! Goddamn surfer. My grip on his neck tightens and he slaps pathetically at my forearms, tears streaming down his sandy cheeks leaving wet trails on his dirty face.
THe cashier tells me my total... I very reasonable two dollars. I release his coworker and fork over my money. Clambering back over the counter I accidentally kick the yuppy woman in the shoulder pad. I don't think I hurt her any but tears well up in her eyes, too. She looks like a well dressed cow to me with her big wet eyes and blonde hair and brown suit.
So, finally equipped with my rock candy hooch and Evian water I head off to my friend's house for....
*wakes up*
that was weird.

I think this happens to me periodically....
*zones out and becomes silent and still*

diapause \DYE-uh-pawz\ noun

: a period of physiologically enforced dormancy between periods of activity


"Diapause," from the Greek word "diapausis," meaning "pause," may have been coined by the entomologist William Wheeler in 1893. Wheeler's focus was insects, but diapause, a spontaneous period of suspended animation that seems to happen in response to adverse environmental conditions, also occurs in the development of crustaceans, snails, and other animals. Novelist Joyce Carol Oates exercised poetic license and gave the word a human application in her short story "Visitation Rights" (1988): "Her life, seemingly in shambles, ... was not ruined; ... injured perhaps, and surely stunted, but only temporarily. There had been a diapause, and that was all...."

"American Splendor"
see this movie.
do it.
do it now.

I make myself sick sometimes.

OMFG - did anyone see Jon Stewart on CNNs Crossfire? He is my new hero. Calling that feeb in the bowtie a dick on tv... priceless.
Go watch. Now. 

http://www.boingboing.net/2004/10/15/jon_stewarts_crossfi.html

http://necrodragon.com/forum/index.php

Found this in [Hendercrazy]'s house =)

From www.spaceweather.com

Tonight and tomorrow you can see the Harvest Moon.

The Harvest Moon is no ordinary full moon; it behaves in a special way. Throughout the year the Moon rises, on average, about 50 minutes later each day. But near the autumnal equinox, which comes this year on Sept. 23rd, the day-to-day difference in the local time of moonrise is only 30 minutes. The Moon will rise around sunset tonight--and not long after sunset for the next few evenings.

Try looking at the Moon tonight when it's rising in the east. You might notice something funny: the low-hanging Moon looks very big. This is a trick of the eye known as the "Moon Illusion."

On NPR this morning...
Police thought they spotted a dead body floating in the Rio Grande... but it turned out to be a life-sized, life-like plastic Jesus. People are flocking to see the icon and saying it is a sign from God. 
No one has claimed Jesus yet.

My dream last night was emotionally as horrific as the bug one on Saturday. 
I dreamt I was morbidly obese. And a camp counselor (gyaaah, the children! get me away from the children!). 
I woke to find my normal self and was so relieved... I have a waistline..I can see my feet... check, check. BUT I do realize that if I keep being such a lazy bitch and don't get off my lazy ass, that it will one day be a fat and lazy ass. SO... *Shrug* I dunno.. I say that I'm gonna do this exercise and eat right shit all the time. And, of course, never do. Yeah, I'm weak. Yeah, I'm lazy.
*sigh*
I dont overeat - occaisional chocolate or dorito binge aside - but I just do zero physical activity. I have half a lung left, and asthma, and am allergic to cats (live with 5 of them), I did quit smoking but I still smoke um recreationally heh which I know is probably worse for me. It surely doesnt help in the motivating me off of my ass either.
Stupid crutches.
Stupid me for not discarding them.
blah

Woke up from a strange dream just now.

Night time. Middle of nowhere. Our car broke down. I think it was three females and three boys. We went to this old building to ask for help. As we approached, the insects both in the air and on the ground were thick. Some as big as my hand. Crawling and flying, hitting us in the head and body. The door was covered with insects big and small and also covered in cobwebs. We knocked hard and loud, disrupting bugs. We kicked the door. An old lady answered. 
I had a southern accent. "Scuse me ma'am. Our car, it broke down, can we use your phone? Oh pardon, my name's Rachel, and this here is my friends." She let us in.
When we were inside, I felt kind of drugged. Almost as if I had been given something to make me woozy like at the dentist. I remember her saying that we could do our laundry and showed us the machines. The room was wood paneled and very dingy, smelled musty. The dim lights were flickering. We sat in dirty booths like at a fast food joint, struggled with remembering who we were and watched our laundry stupidly. I tried to remember what it was we were doing there. And everytime I got up, the zipper on the back of my skirt was down and I felt like I had been violated, but I couldnt remember it happening. Then I would soon forget what it was that disturbed me, and check the laundry. Occaisionally, I would notice on myself and others, big grotesque centipede-like creatures writhing on top of and burrowing into our skin. I'd freak out, scream, scratch at them and then quickly fall back into a lull, check the laundry, sit back down, to get up and find my skirt unzipped. This cycle seemed to go on for a long time.
I walked to a soda machine I had not seen previously, opened the front like a fridge and took out a soda. The lady appeared and said, "You must pay for that. It's 65 cents." Of course, I said, and reached to my back pocket where I had a man's billfold. THere was some change in it, but I saw some photographs of some kids and it jolted me out of the stupor. I didnt want to let the lady on though, so I paid for my soda and she left the room. 
I turned up the volume on an old radio and slapped my friends around trying to wake them from this daze. Reluctantly they came around. We all had to keep reminding each other, shaking shoulders, slapping cheeks, for it was way too easy to fall back into the daze. We began to notice the heavy drone of insects in the background, even over the radio. The lady was in the room and wanted to know if everything was ok. I said we were done with our laundry, thank you for her hospitality but we had to go. She started to turn to do something but I got her in a headlock and told her we were leaving no matter if it was over her dead body or not. I hit her a lot of times, until her face was puffy, head mishapen and bleeding. We left her there in the middle of the laundry room, her still body quickly overtaken by a swarm of insects.
We got to our car and I realized my name was not Rachel. And I woke up.