Superinky Fixations

Hi. Gosh, what the hell happened to December? What on Earth have I got to show for the last 365 days? And why is the thought New Years Eve so sort of depressing? Damn, am I ever Ms. Depleted Seratonin today. Double gin tonics, galouses and karaoke and 5 hours of sleep’ll do that to a woman I suppose.

Where was I when that Sleater-Kinney album came out? I just discovered it today and I cannot believe its genius! And I’m sorry, there is no way those girls aren’t from the Olympia area because why else would you name your band Sleater-Kinney? Well, I guess it’s sort of like naming the dude on Law & Order SVU or whateverthefuck show Vader Ryderwood. I’m sorry - the writer has to traverse the I-5 corridor as much as I do and apparently as much as Sleater-Kinney because those are exits off the freeway people. Anyway, I love that  Rollercoaster song. SWEET.

Also, I am so vibing The Ponys. Is anyone else feeling The Ponys? Let me know, k? so we can talk about it. Get Black is so rocking! Me, I’m big on the jangly guitars and the slightly whiney off key tenor. It just does something for me. I can’t explain it.

So how much crap did you get for Christmas that you didn’t want or need? Listen to me! I’m such a big bummer today! But really, a plastic funnel? A thermometer? A pooka shell soap holder? Seriously people, these are just a smattering sample of the X-mas booty I have in my possession.

Ugh. I’m hungry.

Ha! I don’t have to work today. And thank you very much, I  willed this Ice Storm into existence. Yeah, well, it may not be much of a storm, but damnit, I really didn’t want to work today. In some sort of defiant, yet hopeful act of foresight, I left an extended absence greeting on my voice mail at work along with the Inclement Weather Policy (which basically says something to the affect of "if you’re not sure if we’re open today, turn on the radio, tv, or log on you dumb dumb and figure it out yourself". Even still, I’m absolutely certain that when I get back to the office (tomorrow I’m sure), there will no doubt be at least one, if not more messages asking me if we’re open. People are so stupid sometimes.

Plus, yeah, I realize that the Holidaze puts just about everyone into this sort of trance-like state where it’s hard to see anything but the $5.99 bird feeder, the $48 bamboo serving bowl, the peppermint bark and the half crazed smiles and consternation on the faces of our dysfunctional families. Believe me, I understand this trance all too well.

I know myself well enough to recognize that I become single-mindedly obsessed with creating the perfect X-mas Holiday each and every year. And since there’s no way any family get-together is going to be perfect (my personal favorite X-mas debacle was my brother-in-law flipping out over the white elephant gift exchange and telling his mother to FUCK OFF BITCH and then went ripping out of the driveway, drama all-a-flurry. We don’t do the white elephant gift exchange anymore btw). And so I strive to collect Christmas ornaments and evergreen scented candles, sparkly pine cones, wreaths, strange golden reindeer & angel decorations, clearance X-mas cards, wrapping paper, ribbons and more Christmas ornaments. It’s almost sort of silly and sad the things I feel the need to collect in order to feel right with the world.

Any troubling sad funny X-mas stories you’d like to share with me? Oh please, please please feel free to share your family dysfunction with me so I don’t feel quite so crazy.

Mmmm, yummy Swagat. I’m grooving on the Indian buffet. The trick: get there when they open. We were 4 of at least 15 people waiting to enter Swagat yesterday morning at 11:30am. And my goodness was it worth it. Thanks Michael and Kamarin for sharing your Sunday morning ritual with bretty & me. I kind of want some Swagat right now.

It’s taken me a few days to process the whole Dandy Warhols double feature last week. Really, at this point, all I can say is, yeah, well, Dandy Warhol’s music rules ok? (and if you’re ever wondering why I always say "Dandy Warhols rule ok" it’s because that’s the name of their first album. They deconstruct their songs to the point where they turn them inside out and into something completely new. And, yes, I realize that maybe they are not for everybody. To say their sound can get minimal, well, that would be an understatement. We’re talking, they can drone on 3 or 4 notes for 15 or 20 minutes. And that’s ok, I’m a stoner and I’m all about drone-y, stone-y deconstructed druggy psychedelia.

I just felt sort of betrayed I suppose, by the less than cold way the Dandys (and in particular, Courtney Taylor Taylor) seemed to treat the audience. I mean, it’s not like I’m taking it as a personal slight, but damn I can’t help but feeling like he really hates his Portland fans and is basically the quintessential Portland Hipster that hates the very hands that feed It. Jeez. I’ve seen them play for years and I guess he was never one to be overly friendly to the audience, but now that they’re playing these large venues, it’s even more obvious how much he seems to harbor this great disdain for the audience. Sad. Oh, but nothing beats "Ride". God, what a fabulous song, and live - perfection and sheer bliss.

Plus, at one point I became obsessed with the notion of tweaking Fathead’s taut nipples as he sat erect at the drum set, beating the skins with perfection, singing cutesy, catching harmonies with Courtney. I will say, TDW really do have that catchy chorus harmony thing going on.

Well, I’ve successfully managed to kill an hour blogging. And it’s only 9:14am!

Wow. I just have to say WOW thanks for all the great high school concert flashbacks. I’m loving it and I WANT MORE. I’m pretty proud of my Cure and Frankie Goes to Hollywood concerts, and so embarrassed about the rest. Oh well.

Excuse me while I finish off my 2nd massive rum filled egg nog. YUMMY.

Oh yeah, sometime this weekend I’ve got to write about my fetishistic idealizations of men. It’s out of control! And makes for great salacious reading material!

Alright, I really don’t quite get how these "meme" things work. From what I gather, you follow certain blogs and they know you follow them, so they say something like ‘hey Superinky, what’s your top 5 blah blah blah-ditty blah blahs’, but, like, there’s apparently no follow through from what I gather. Then I’m supposed to post the same meme and make other people answer the same question and then somehow it’s supposed to spread through the entirety of the Internet.

OK, so, it’s like this - I’ll participate in this meme thing, and I’ll even do it the way I’m supposed to do it, but please feel free, whether I meme you or not, to leave your Top 5 in my comments. I love your comments, by the way. Really. REALLY!!

Here’s the deal - what are your Top Five concerts you attended while attending high school? I must admit, this is a tough one for me. I grew up in Longview for God’s sake and it was hard to convince my parent’s to take me anywhere, let alone coordinate treks down to Portland or up to Seattle or whatnot. But I did manage to sneak a few concerts in. Literally, there were a total of 5 concerts that I can recall. So I wouldn’t necessarily consider these my Top Five concerts while attending high school, but the ONLY concerts I attended while in high school. Here it goes:

1). The Cure - Head on the Door tour 1985. They played at the Schnitz. We had really good seats. I seem to remember at one point thinking Robert Smith was crying. I so loved them.

2). Frankie Goes to Hollywood - Seattle Center Opera House 1985. My very first concert! It was packed and believe it or not, there was quite a mosh pit. I stupidly wore a sweater and nearly fainted. A cute boy gave me a t-shirt.

3). Howard Jones - Also at the Schnitz back in 1985 or 1986. There were a whole bunch of us girls, maybe even some waver boys from Longview and we all got permission from our parents to go to this show.

4). OK, this is where it gets really embarrassing… The Monkees - State Fair up in Puyallup 1987. It wasn’t even cool and besides, Davey Jones was nowhere to be found. Snoozzzzze.

5). Also shudder inducing - Beach Boys at the State Fair in Puyallup 1987 or possibly 1988 (ok, which means I would have just graduated). As I recall there was no Brian Wilson. Does that actually count as the Beach Boys then?

Ok, well, that was kind of humiliating.

So, like I said, whether I meme you or not, please feel free to leave your Top Five concert experiences while attending high school. I’m going to meme… Jonas (Disposable Brain), Motokitty (Cari, I’m just certain you’ve seen some great shows in your day), Jay (this should be interesting), Geeekgirl (oh so curious…), Mikey (if you haven’t already been memmed), Nancy, Secret Comics, Kamarin, Paula, and the Unpaid Rock Critic.

Looking forward to hearing from you!!

I’ve been thinking and thinking about this - seriously - for many days…. I just don’t think I can bring myself to post excerpts of my book. It’s just too personal and far too fucking crappy to expose to anyone. So there! Maybe one day I will submit it anonymously to some publishing house so that they may reject me and I won’t have to take it so personally. Who knows? Maybe I’ll just publish something here on my blog and I won’t say anything. Shit, I can’t even express to you how self-absorbed and thoroughly shitty it is. REALLY!!! But who knows? My ego may just crave so to be stroked I may just post a random excerpt every once in a while just for the hell of it. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? OK!!! Maybe just the first paragraph. I mean, this is crazy. Do I want to expose people to that crazy side of me that thinks of nothing but my own self-serving ego? Am I really willing to be that vulnerable? Damn! I was upset for days by some snide shitty comment some complete stranger left for me on this blog I occasionally contribute to - I’m so ultra -sensative I want to smack myself.

I’m feeling sad. I don’t know why. I don’t understand people I guess and why they do the things they do. I suppose I’m weird, too, and people don’t understand me, but fuck it, I’m sick of weird fucking fuck head fuckalots fuckoffs fucking around with my head.

Ok, so maybe I’m a weeeee bit tipsy tonight and I haven’t been listening to enough Devendra Banhart to really get my motor running. I just want to complain and be cottled and not really affect any positive change in my life.

Sometimes a girl has just got to complain, ok? When she’s tired and fed up and sick to death of her 9-5 grind, a girl has just got to let loose and bitch. Bear with me for now.

Shit, I still feel like I’m recovering from my month of novel writing. Damn! That wore me out and I’m just not the same girl I was 5 weeks ago.

December. Fucking December. At the same time that I recognize I want to open myself to all the family, friend and social obligations this month brings me, I am aware that even the fact that I look at them all as "social obligations" means that on some level I feel resentment towards my committments. And really, truth be told, it’s not so much that I don’t want to spend time with family and friends. I just… I just want more hours in the day, more days in the month, more time to sleep in and veg out and do my own thing.

One day, haters, one day, I swear to you, ONE DAY I’ll find that balance and I’ll laugh at myself and how I felt on days like today.

JEEZ. I’m hardly making sense to myself.

OH WELL.

Maybe I shouldn’t have started drinking Pinot Grigio at 11:45am…. hmmm….

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OK OK OK OK. Here’s a tiny excerpt.

The Season of the Witch
(the first couple paragraphs anyway)
By Me

It’s important you know just how much I live in my head. Worlds collide, universes born and dying all within the space between my ears. Infinite unknowing abysses spotted with periods of sheer nonsense and fleeting moments of utter clarity: that’s how I’d most accurately describe a typical day in my head. Hundreds of hours of therapy, many spent paralyzed and weeping, unable to speak and still paying $85 an hour. Well, actually, it’s just 50 minutes. I’ve never quite understood why it can’t be a full hour, though I admire the psychiatric community for being so in touch with and able to express their boundaries so clearly.

I’m different than most people. I’m special I suppose, and I like the fact that my Special-ness sets me apart from the rest of the world. Yeah. Special. Special Education maybe, especially ridiculous more like, as at the same time that I like to think of myself as being special, I’m so completely jaded and understand the reality that I’m about as special as a grain of sugar in a candy factory. I don’t have any remarkable physical features that separate me from the rest of the world. I’m not even particularly intelligent, though we’ll get to that later. That is to say, I’m not terribly so terribly special as I’d like to think I am.

We bought this fake tree, right? It was a $100 and it’s tall and skinny. I’m going to decorate it tonight. Better get started cuz it’s already 8:30pm.  Also, the house is really clean. Thanks bretty, I’m so in love with you. All of the sudden December feels like it’s not mine, what with all the social obligations and family committments. That’s ok, though, cuz I’m in a charitable kind of mood these days.

So we got this free XM Satellite radio for a couple months, you know, since we bought a new car and all. It’s pretty neato - all the bajillion stations and all, but the quality of the sound is not great. Kinda tinny.

We saw !!! on Friday night. It’s so funny when I try to tell people via email/im who don’t know who !!! is; when I tell them I’m going to see !!! they immediately ask me what band I’m going to see. It reminds me of that dorky ‘who’s on first’ skit. And please, don’t feel bad if you don’t know who !!! (or ‘chk chk chk’ or ‘guh guh guh’) is because personally, I feel like that’s a really stupid name (or names) for a band. We’ve seen them now 3 times. This last show, well, it wasn’t my favorite. It was cool & all and I absolutely love that song "Me & Guiliani Down by the Schoolyard (a true story)" and god when they play that the crowd goes wild and it’s so fun and the world is just perfect. But still, we danced a lot and I burned some calories.

Well, it’s time to trim the tree.

Peace out.