06 September 2001

Ladies, I have a new code name for our Monthly Friend: Changing the oil.

The funniest thing about it is that my father was the one who came up with this whitty saying.

So, now that I'm almost done changing my oil, things are looking up...

Sat down with my editor for about 40 minutes today, talking about what was going on in the scene, giving me more local music tips, story ideas, and picking up more CDs to review.

All is good. All is very good. I was even asked about doing a profile, to which I answered I would be interested in but I'd have to do a sort of practice one first to see if I'm any good at it. What would be interesting about that would be talking to musicians who aren't local. That would be a Very Good Thing. Maybe. It depends on what's going on.

And I actually met one of the other writers, who said as I walked up, "Are you Kari?" "Yeah, that's me," I said. "Oh, I like you're writing," she said. "It's so nice to meet you." I looked down at my shoes, red-faced, and said, "Thanks" really quietly.

It was a little thing. But it made my week. And it feels nice, which is the most important thing, because that means I'm ready for everything.

I think.

.the girl who is not very 6:49 PM [+].

I have to tell this little story before I do anything else.

About a week and a half ago I found a gecko in my shower, floating around in the runoff as I prepared to step in. I picked up the gecko with a plastic cup, thinking it was dead but in fact very much alive. I took it and let it go outside my front door.

He's still around. He decided to say hi a couple of days ago.
























I think he's just watching to make sure I'm okay.

.the girl who is not very 6:33 PM [+].

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05 September 2001

Today was a funny day. Got to drive my brother's big 'ol Tahoe around doing errands.

I think the funniest part was driving down 95 towards the mall (to pick up an old Claddaugh ring I had fixed), behind the wheel of this monster, with the windows down, blaring "Cornflake Girl" on the stereo.

This=me. You know, but not.






















For some reason, I was in the mode to take a snapshot while I was out there, with a nice view of Sunrise Mountain.











You just drive around and see the silliest things.



I mean, come on, I know everybody has to keep their colon healthy, but a massage? If it's gonna be that kinda party I'm 'a stick my dick in the mashed potatoes!

.the girl who is not very 7:34 PM [+].

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04 September 2001

You realize how frustrating things seem when you don't have a car.

I realized this acutely when I was living in England. Sure, I'd gotten used to getting on trains, busses and into taxis. But then, one day, I looked out my window, and thought, You know, I think I'll go to Cuca's-- (the family-owned Mexican take-away in Redlands) and get something to eatohcrapI'minEngland. Shit. It was easy to get around, but not as easy as getting in a car and just driving down the street. There were other people's schedules to adhere to. Like the bus driver's.

My car's ignition went kaputz on Saturday, and I realized this was annoying when I thought about how I had to get to the post office to mail off some CDs and I couldn't go anywhere since I didn't have a car to drive. Luckily I don't have any major assignments this week, or else I'd really be in trouble. I mean, not that I ever have any really major assignments anyway. Not yet, at any rate.

I'm back on that distinct feeling that I can't say anything right lately. Not just with that review, but everything. You know how sometimes you say things, especially when you type them, and you have the best intentions, but the words just don't seem to have it? You re-read it and it sounds all wrong and the other person won't talk to you and you feel like an asshole? Raise your hand, 'cause I know you're in the same detention room as I am.

I'm trying to remember what kind of karmic retribution is working here, trying desperately in my head to figure out what I did wrong to fuck myself up like this. My teen angst is desperately trying to go on a Reunion Tour and my head just isn't filled up to capacity with people willing to put up with all the old hits.

Another trek out into the World-That-Isn't-Vegas would be a great idea. Greater than all the voices in my head right now.

.the girl who is not very 7:11 PM [+].

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03 September 2001

In case you were curious, this was where I went to school in England for five months back in the spring of 1999.

.the girl who is not very 11:08 PM [+].

I need more RAM on this laptop. Bad. Netscape just decided to quit on me when I had my post just finished. What I was going to say:

Today was mostly spent listening to BBC Radio 1, something I catch on streaming radio every so often when I miss being in my room back in Norwich, watching the rain and reading as they'd play the top 40 of the week.

People wonder how I hear of groups like Gorillaz before they become buzzworthy, and how I know random techno songs, now a few years old, that are barely new in the States-- it's because of Radio 1. It's especially good here around 2 in the afternoon, because that's when Steve Lamacq is on and he plays stuff that's so indie you can't even get it in the States. Every time I listen I end up having a list of songs and groups to look out for in the stores or, if I can find them, online somewhere. They play everything.

How can you ring the changes if you don't know their number? Don't worry. They'll ring you. And if you haven't got a phone? They'll still find a way through. The changes are smart. And determined. Oh, and in case you were wondering - they are on your side. They support you. They want the best for you. They should not be seen as enemy pursuers. They are friendly allies, hurrying to your rescue. You are not so sure that you do need rescuing? Ha! Inwardly, you can't wait for that call. Which is just as well. Cos it's coming.

I love this guy.

.the girl who is not very 11:05 PM [+].

So I've been reading all day, having finished From Hell and wondering how Johnny Depp's going to play Abberline, being that in the graphic novel he's slightly, er, corpulent (every time I see that word I think of that recording I have of Neil Gaiman reading his story "Keepsakes and Treasures: A Love Story" and thinking of him reading that line, "What I remember of him mostly then is how big he was. Corpulent." He says that word like it's dead fish or something) and seeing one picture of the film-- and how Menace II Society's Allen Brothers are going to be directing it-- how Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell's vision is going to play out on the screen.

But I've also been thinking about that review and the DJ being pissed off. I run both sides of the story in my head, rethink what I've written, and rethink again what I wrote in my two reviews for this week, and if there's something just downright wrong with me. At first, I thought, Fuck, I've done it this time. Can't say anything in this town. I've fucked up royally and there's no going back and everyone's going to hate me. My writing stinks, I don't know why they hired me, I'm going to be dropped and that's the end of the music journalist I thought I was going to be. But then I reconsidered, thought about how much more slack I've gotten for saying one thing bad about a few bands than the very little thanks about the many positive things I've said about bands. And I think, You know, I've had a good time so far, and I'm not in this to make friends. Hell, I'm not really in this for them. I'm doing this for me, because I enjoy it, and because I have some kind of knack for it.

I don't know why it bothers me. It might be because I'm going in Thursday to talk about my schedule and I have no idea what The Editor's going to say. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't get a bitchy email back from him the past couple of days, either because he's been out of the office for Labor Day or because we're probably going to talk about it when I go see him. 'Course, when I go down there to pick up CDs, we always sit there and bitch about things, especially the state of the scene. In the end, though, I'm sticking up for myself no matter what. I wrote what I wrote because that's how I was thinking at the time, and even if I'm used to people explaining why they don't like something I've written (for example, in a workshop format), I have to take it all in and realize I'm going to get people who don't agree. Especially from people who don't really argue-- they bitch. That's okay. And from my own inner self, I really just need to count to ten, breathe, and take it with a big grain of salt.

.the girl who is not very 10:38 PM [+].

Ever since I rearranged my closet a few weeks ago, I've been finding old notebooks from college that I wrote poems, rants, and assignments, and general go-get-this kind of stuff in. (And at the same time I'm realizing there are actually old journals, loosely defining that term, I mean in the way that they're a snapshot of that time in my life.) One of these notebooks, an old drawing book that one of my friends, I can't remember if it was either Rozzie or her brother Dan (or both) gave me as a going-away present, has some things I scribbled down my freshman year, and some sketches and more scribbles for a Tarot card oracle that I did my sophomore year. And I found this unfinished poem, circa 1997 (that would be at the tender age of nineteen, folks) with the piece of paper that I wrote the ideas down on:

almost human almost divine
almost at the gates
almost got what's mine
almost got the time
almost friends with Fate
I want to talk to Death
and tell her everything
I stop, feel my breath

I'm almost a human being

almost dying almost flying
almost running against the clouds
almost free almost me
almost feeling proud
you can take the shade
and turn it into night
but despite the burning of the sun
I stand here and fight
and fight
and fight...

almost a pretty girl
in an almost pretty world
palming dreams making schemes
to get me through perpetual night
almost crying almost trying
almost got my due
almost there I almost care
I'm almost happy for you

almost breaking down
almost off the ground
almost in the light
almost here
almost there
almost the one who's right

I don't know about what y'alls think, but I looked at that and wondered if I really wrote that or not. I like it.

.the girl who is not very 10:15 PM [+].

Looking at my current megabite usage I've barely got 20 megs up. This is Good. So if the pictures seem crappy to you, a)piss off, and b)it's because I'm keeping them at a low file size so they load faster and take up less space.

Back to our regularly scheduled picture-posting thing:











































































































































A good time. We're thinking that because there's some stuff left over, we might just have another one this weekend, for shits and giggles. Big ups to Shamus O'Malley, our (wo)man in Japan, for by-proxy support.

.the girl who is not very 9:36 PM [+].

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02 September 2001

The party went fine. People got buzzed, lots of meat was had. The last had left at 5 this morning.

A few pictures, going up soon. But, in lieu of my car having problems with its ignition console (and therefore is unstartable), I'm going to spend a quiet night at home, working on the ideas for that young adult novel I'd started back in 1997, and seeing if I can bring that back to life again with some other characters I wasn't sure what to do with.

Saw Jay and Silent Bob again today, with Kim and Tony. It's not my favorite Kevin Smith movie, but it's not going to stop me buying the DVD when it comes out next year.

My favorite movie by him (and probably my favorite overall) is Chasing Amy. Every time I watch it, I get inspired to write, which is a Good Thing.

.the girl who is not very 10:00 PM [+].

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