Daddy ate crepes, Mama ate dinner

...and there was no little brother to join right in.
So last night I felt ashamed of myself once again. Curt made an excellent dinner. We had merlot and this tasty pasta and mushroom dish. Dan called and then came over to join us. Wine always seems to make me weepy and ridiculous. I didn't even have that much to drink. I suppose I should just steer clear of it since I have rather been in a state of late anyway. But we started talking about religion and apathy. I know I have been in an apathetic state religiously and that this is a ploy that we are warned to avoid falling victim to. How do I balance this feeling (noone wants to be duped) with the fatigue that I feel from worrying about every little thing I've ever done wrong and whether they are matters of life and death? I seem determined to think that it is impossible to wipe the slate clean. That obviously shows a lack of faith. So tired of having all of these worries running around in my head. It makes me want to be apathetic. I wonder if my apathy is actually forced then. And is forced apathy actually apathy? Seems like it couldn't be. Curt says that everything is so black and white with me and that's probably why I get tired and want to give up. But, as Dan accurately pointed out, he feels apathetic sometimes and just has to tell himself that regrettably, these simply are not days to allow it. My question, one of them, is: Is just going through the motions when I feel apathetic the right thing to do or does it just make God disgusted with me?
Well, I feel like some progress is being made. I have at least started talking about things and I do feel like I finally want to be happy. I do actually want life to be good rather than just constantly seeking a way out of it or an impossible way to change it. That is progress.
Now if I can find a way to make a seamless, headache-free transition from coffee to tea, I'll be in good shape. I used to hate coffee. The folly of youth, indeed! The Red Tea can clearly stated that if I drank red tea I would live a healthier, longer life. It backed this up with talk of flavinoids and free radicals and the like. You just can't argue with stuff like that. Clear direction. That's what I crave. I am ready to forego my status as a free moral agent and become a painfree android. Androids can be very noble. And they certainly never make embarassing, honest dinner-table talk spawned of wine and self-absorption. Is there a past tense to spawn? Somebody let me know. I'm too apathetic to look it up.

ouch. my throat

derrick just gave me everclear in attempt to clear snot from my throat. instead, it has turned my snot into liquid acid. the scarlett queen wrote me today. her vitriolic acerbity (is that a word?) is very, VERY evident. man. my throat burns SO badly. i need to go home. i have to work tomorrow. the latest article by the accountz recievable sup on the onion is hilarious. my throat will soon combust. it's one a.m. i wish to be asleep. tonight, i ran into stefan and mikey. they were at the old toad. my food was yummy. i have to go. throat on fire. sleep inevitable.

it's all the shame to me

ja. que hora es? holy cow. sam and curtis are playing away and the jagermeister is about offed. i'm developing a taste for the juice. poor neighbor. she hates the music. she likes hot pink and hates the tomatoes i offered her. people that reject perfectly good tomatoes (pommes d'amour) are wack, yo. i want to start a website where i can REALLY say what i want. dammit. there are always limitations and proprieties of SOME sort. i'm sorry that i haven't made my blog interesting yet. i promise i will soon. i will upload stuffs and be creative and blow y'alls niggaz minds, yo. c'est vrai. ne merde pas! ha!man. sorry.
i'm just developing a taste for blood. i've never had one before. it's thrilling.
i sometimes check to see when people view my website and i wonder if the hours are off. for two nights now it has said that someone looked at it between 4 and 5 a.m. can this possibly be correct? i doubt it. my website is the anti-website. it does not exist. nothing exists in cyberspace anyway. if anyone has any ideas of whether time is possibly as tangible as light, please let me know. please remember the pudding where the proof is, as well.
ps: where is shishini? i left her a messgae tonight.

Die Fledermaus en Die Flederblaus

Alas, no time. I keep wanting to do interesting things with my new blog, but A Clockwork Orange comes on and the computer keeps being on and off the bum. Crumb-bum. Holden would think I am a crumb-bum. Rats. The guttiwots in guttyknots and I have to go again. I promise I will spend quality time with you soon blog. And you, piano lessons.

Areola Concerto No.7

Well, we were planing on seeing bob log iii last night. At the last minute, I drank lots of merlot and it seemed like every bit as reasonable an idea to stay home and clap one's own titties together. Perhaps I will start playing the piano with my breasts. I will start a new genre of club- the titty piano bar. There will be titty opuses performed on weekends. opuses.
If you have any suggestions or would like to give your financial patronage to this sure fire hit of an idea, let me know.

As Seen On TV On The Radio

I am more thoroughly convinced than ever of the fact that The Faint is collectively the sexiest band alive. After a near brush with death on the streets of Toronto, Curtis, Sue and I were happily present at Lee's Palace to see The Faint along with TV On The Radio and Beep, Beep. Beep, Beep were phenomenal. I have no idea what is going on in Omaha, Nebraska these days. I always pictured fairly flat lands with grain and the like. Now they are spewing out right sexy lads and musical talent galore. As Seen On TV was a surprise because they were BLACK! That's right folks. This is a rarity indeed in the musical world outside of rap, blues, soul, and jazz (i.e. the world of predominately black people music). There sound ranged from a mediocre driving rock to an entrancing ethereal apocalyptic. Can I uses apocalyptic as a noun? I'm gonna. They were all sweating like crazy with the notable exception of the maharishi fellow who I assumed must have had perfect spiritual control over his sweat glands. And then there was The Faint. This was the third time I had seen them and possibly the best performance yet. We were virtually at their feet- the perfect place to admire the writhing. All that and a very attractive asian barmaid to boot. Very enjoyable indeed. That crazy fellow on the streets that got angry with Sue and pushed me needs to stop being mean and paranoid and start enjoying the great bands that play in Toronto. My initial impression was that Toronto was rather like a prostitute- flashy but lacking substance. I may be changing my mind. It's amazing what a little good music can do to invigorate a body and change a point of view. Morrissey plays there tomorrow night. If I had a money tree, or a ticketmaster tree, maybe I could go.

Carbon De-Based

Two nights ago I woke up frightened. I had the oddest dream that if I ever consumed alcohol again, some of my organs were going to explode. I was telling everyone my sad tale; It somehow seemed symbolic. The days are cooling off. I mentioned that I was looking forward to winter and Max, a coworker, mentioned that if he looked forward to winter he would be afraid of missing fall- his favourite season. I thought that was an excellent way to view things. I'm trying to force myself to do less anticipating. Anticipating will be the unhappy death of me if I give it free rein. Free reign. Are we talking horses or aristocracy? I say horses. I was just thinking today about how much I loved those Walter Farley books when I was a kid. I always think about The Island Stallion and how it lived and ran about freely in that secluded cove nestled in the island mountains where all the sugarcane grew. Something about horses in secluded coves makes me want to poop with satisfaction in a small, dark, public bathroom stall.
So, I'm trying to enjoy fall. My senses instinctively(what with that largely being how senses work and all) began to demand the smell and taste of a warm, dry wine rather than cool, heady beer. So I drank lots of Merlot and passed out on the couch last night after watching Ron White, one of the funniest guys I've seen in a while. Today, a loopy lady told me that Amber was the name she gave herself- her "spiritual name". Then she asked me if I liked being called Amber. Names are always so odd. Does anyone ever think of themselves as their name? I just feel carbon-based and easy to kill. I'm not sure whether I like being called Amber or not. I guess I've gone and given away my name now. My blogging pseudonyms no longer hold water. I promise you that I am La Fille du Fromage. I have been for years.
I'm going to Toronto tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. I'm going to see The Faint at Lee's Palace on Sunday. I look forward to this but I'm trying not to anticipate it TOO much. Otherwise, I could miss out on Saturday. And I'm only an easy to kill carbon-based life form. I need all the solid days I can get. John Lennon only lived to forty. Somebody rest his soul. I have to go shower now before the presidential debate comes on at nine.