obfuscated girl

you might need me more than you think you will

selfinterview

Thursday June 29, 2006 9:07am

Q: So you really don't write much in this thing anymore, huh?
A: Nope.
Q: Why do you think that is?
A: Most of the time I'm too distracted by work, and it's this weird thing: I started a personal online journal sort of with the intent of keeping a journal and then all this super messed up stuff started happening in my life that I realized I didn't necessarily want to share with the entire world. There's also the fact that I don't have a consistent internet connection at my place, so even if I wanted to get online and write about how I was drunk and weepy I would have to go to Kinko's, or a friend's house, and fuck that.
Q: The entire world, dude? Have you looked at your stats lately?
A: Shut up.
Q: Feisty! Anyway, are you doing okay?
A: I can't answer that question because I don't really know. It changes minute-to-minute, practically. Friends help. Jameson's helps. I am a man now.
Q: What?
A: I started drinking Scotch and whisky on the rocks when I go out cause it slows me down and also I wanted to be more manly.
Q: How's that working out for you?
A: It's great.
Q: Great.
A: Yeah.
Q: So why keep the journal up, then?
A: Um, well, I'm good at being cryptic about some things, and I enjoy cryptically broadcasting my pain to the world because I am a secret attention whore and the journal has been active for a couple years now? I think? and sometimes it's fun to go back and look at where I was a year ago or whatever. Also, no one reads this anyway, so why not?
Q: True. So what else has been taking up your time lately?
A: Uh, you know, looking at online cartoons, drinking too much, watching Veronica Mars, sending packages to people in other cities, readin stuff, cultivating an extremely poor body image, nothing out of the ordinary.
Q: You're so emo. And you just answered a question in hyperlink, nerd.
A: Dude, you know what a hyperlink is. Hey pot.
Q:Oh shit. Anyway, you read anything good lately?
A: YES
Q: QUIT DOING THAT.
A:Sorry.
Q: Explain for the people who don't want to click on that?
A: Sure. It's a book called Lost And Found by Carolyn Parkhurst, who also wrote The Dogs Of Babel. Lost And Found is kind of an exploration/sendup of reality television. It's really fucking good.
Q: Okay, well, are you still writing for Glorious Noise?
A: I would like to point out that you just asked me a question in hyperlink. And yes. With less frequency, but yes.
Q: When in Nerd...
A: Yeah. Uh huh.
Q: How far would you say you've come in terms of from when you started keeping a journal?
A: I wouldn't phrase it that way, but I'm definitely a different person. I think I'm less afraid of being alone for the moment. And unless a dude is named Hamilton Leithauser I'm really not that interested in dating right now. I'm sick of selling myself, you know? I need time to think. And walk. I like going wherever I want to without having to answer to anyone when, like, I get off work. I don't feel like changing that.
Q: Hamilton who?
A: Never mind.
Q: Any final words of wisdom?
A: Never brush your teeth before drinking red wine. Also, New Hampshire.
Q I...What? Jesus. Okay, uh, are we ever going to see you here again?
A: Oh, no doubt. I'll be around.
Q: How exciting.
A: Who taught you interview skills, anyway?

matt, have you looked at qwantz.com yet?

Wednesday June 21, 2006 3:45pm

This picture has nothing to do with qwantz.com but it is all I am posting today.
I have discovered that the bulk of my gmail spam comes from spammers who find this website, and that is bizarre because I thought only websites that get read get spammed.

Oh, Colbert.

Wednesday June 14, 2006 7:28am

What I Learned From My Mother

I learned from my mother how to love
the living, to have plenty of vases on hand in case you have to rush to the hospital with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole grieving household, to cube home-canned pears and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.
I learned to attend viewing even if I didn't know the deceased, to press the moist hands of the living, to look in their eyes and offer sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.
I learned that whatever we say means nothing, what anyone will remember is that we came.
I learned to believe I had the power to ease awful pains materially like an angel.
Like a doctor, I learned to create
from another's suffering my own usefulness, and once you know how to do this, you can never refuse.
To every house you enter, you must offer
healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself, the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.
--Julia Kasdorf

there are no words

Monday June 5, 2006 2:58pm