obfuscated girl

ha.

you want to speak like angels but you can't

As with many things in Obfuscatedgirl Land, I was premature in my pronouncing the time of death of my internerd connection. I just haven't written anything because I don't know what to say anymore. I feel incredibly adrift, and not in a good way. Last night was trying to literally kill demons at Landmark by playing shooting video games and that didn't work. The night before it was (some sort of alcohol) at (some sort of establishment) and that didn't work. I've tried talking, I've tried writing in my Not For Internets journal, I've tried The Gym, I've tried walks on beaches in the offseason, I've tried sleeping in, I've tried applying for every job I might even be remotely qualified for, and...nothing. I will write again when and only when I have figured out what the fuck is going on with me.

come home

For the past 24 hours, my internets has been broken. I don't know why. I am writing this from Blue Dawg Bagels with a ginormous cup of coffee and a great nagging sense of deja vu. (And really, what goes better with the internets than bagels?) In the Great Grand Scheme Of Things, I should not be this annoyed, but I am. And I don't meant to jump the gun because for all I know it could come back up by the time I get back home. I pose this question, Dear People Who Live Or Have At One Point Lived In Wisconsin: If it turns out that I do need a new provider, are there any who are particularly good or conversely really awful who I should be paying particular attention to?
kthxbye.

EDIT: I forgot to mention that I had a mimosa from here yesterday, and that has basically fulfilled one of my lifelong/post-age-21 goals (the drink, not the place where I got it from). I'm so deep. Okay, back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Sincerely,
The Ladies Who Lunch.

blarney this.

(from the photojournal.)
So due to the fact that when I was walking around yesterday (returning this book, because it just really sort of did nothing for me) I kept seeing signs advertising that bars were open AT SIX IN THE MORNING, I am seriously sort of terrified of leaving the house today. Especially due to the fact that there's still a ton of capacity nonsense still going on with the bars and all.. call me naive or cynical, and you are probably right, but I have a feeling that there is going to be Trouble, the kind that rhymes with "pool table." It's bad enough that I live this close to Brady Street on days when people aren't running around demanding that you kiss them because they are one-fourth Irish. I AM A PRISONER OF MY OWN MIND, etc.
And because I haven't done this in a good long while:
Lou Barlow--Monkey Begun--yes, I have become one of those girls who cannot shut the fuck up about this fucking album. I am SUCH a girl.
There's a new link on the links page under Other, and here is an article about Clem Snide wherein they talk to Eef Barzelay about teh sexx0r. Oooooooooooh.
That's about all, really.

scary

Does anyone else find it strange that Pizza Hut DOES NOT OFFER A SMALL PIZZA?
And this seriously made my skin crawl.

we are q and not u and this is your last chance.

I am restless today. The whole Big Questions About What The Hell I'm Doing With My Life is setting in with full force. It's normal, though, and I still feel like I never get enough sleep so I enjoy having an option for sleeping when the fuck ever. News, though. After giving up on the Interpol show because there had been no word whether I was on the list or not, I had made plans to watch Marilyn Monroe movies and curse Interpol, my new lifelong sworn enemies. I checked my email one last time on my way out and there it was: the YOU'RE IN message. After collaring my Show Friend/Stenographer who was bitchy because she was tired and had really wanted to watch this, whch led to some Hilarious-I-Swear Banter along the lines of "IT'S A FREE SHOW. COULD YOU FUCKING CHEER UP?" (Much love, Stenographer) I then spent the rest of the evening feeling sorry for Q and not U because while they played a really great set, the audience was not prepared for politics and rock (and synth!) to be mixed quite so unapologetically. Plus they played for a really fucking long time. And then I was...bored. Seriously. Bored. I also got into a near-fight about objectivism in music journalism with a gentleman who was hitting on Stenographer. She told him I needed to write about the show and he asked what type of website blah blah blah and I said "we're really music fans first," which is a) true and b) practically the secondary tagline over here and he was all a) drunk and b) 40 and c) "How can you write an objective article about something that you are biased towards blah blah blah drunkety blah?" I said something very coldly about how everyone is fucking biased in music journalism and that's how people respond to music. And then turned away. And he left. WHAT'S UP. But then after he left I started secretly worrying because whatever I end up writing about this, which has to be done TO-DAY, is the first big article I will ever have written and what if I am supposed to be completely objective? and what the fuck am I playing at? And who do I think I am? A VIP? (We actually were standing just outside the VIP section (ooooh, symbolic!) in the balcony and spent much of the night looking sideways at the VIPs and wondering who exactly they thought they were, so there you have that. AND! I have never seen so many stilleto heels and, in general, terrible sartorial goddamn disasters at a concert in my goddamn life. My eyes, my eyes, they burn.
NOTE, AND NOTE WELL: I challenge any and all readers of this entry to find me one piece of absolutely objective music writing. Prize TBD. I am serious.
What follows is a list of quotes that Stenographer attributed to me that I think are not going to fit anywhere in the actual review.
"Interpol has not changed my life."
"Epileptics have no place in rock."
"Anonymous skinny guys can all become cool with good lighting."
"If Joy Division covered early U2 would we have Interpol?"
and shouted several times at various points inside and at the bus stop and, indeed, text-messaged to a friend:
"LITTLE FAIRY WHORE BOY."

seriously.

okay, by 45 pictures I meant, literally, 88.
Here's one:

The rest of the favorites are at the photojournal. I am too tired to link to it.

i would not run i would not turn i would not hide

My marked absence and neglect of this website has been due to the fact that it isRockMarchTober, and I have been out of town taking, among other things, ten million pictures of Clem Snide. And drinking coffee. And baking cookies. And drinking a bit too much. And not sleeping enough to make up for it. And absorbing sunlight like a cactus. And having endless geeky geekout music conversations. And silently assessing. And buying five dollar dresses and the best ring in the world ever ever ever. And being cold. And swooning girlishly. And wishing I owned a white suit and could jump off drum risers. And laughing. A lot. And after tonight there will probably be like 45 pictures of this guy.
I like my life right now.

i'm super, thanks for asking

This is about how my day is going.

impending sign of apocalypse #45721457.8

From Okayplayer: "Due to a string of public embarrassments, God has quit his job as CEO of the Universe. 'Wars, natural disasters, my cell number on the Internet: I could handle,' Our Father said at a press conference held earlier today, 'but this Baby Got Bible shit...that's just too far. You're all on your own.' And with a few trademark thunderbolts and sulfur bursts, humanity was left to its own devices...."

obfuscated girl dot com

is on a hiatus of yet-to-be-determined length due to inclement weather.

And by "inclement," I mean "the sun is actually shining, like a LOT, and it appears by all accounts to be above thirty degrees by more than a little bit, holy fucking hell and all its respective demons."

Also, to keep you entertained in the interim, this is my Kaballah name:

According to your time of birth, July 20, 1978, your personal name from "The 72 Names of God" book is:
NUN LAMED KAF (#21) - ERADICATE PLAGUE. This name is both the antidote and the preventative medicine for the root cause of all plagues that can afflict our world.
A full description of the name can be found on page 90 of "The 72 Names of God" book.
All the best,
Kabbalah Centre International

I have a Kaballah name. I CAN DIE NOW.