This blog is welcome to anyone and everyone, regardless of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, or political affiliation. Unless you don't like writing short stories or smelling bear. Or if you voted for the other guy. Also, I don't really like it when you leave up the toilet seat, so could you stop doing that? Muchas, muchas gracias.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

How David Foster Wallace Broke My Heart

The other night I heard that David Foster Wallace, Adonis of the written word, would be reading in the Haight, so I fixed my hair, slipped into a slit skirt, grabbed a couple of books for him to sign, and I was off.

Because I spent so much time agonizing over which bra to wear (you never know), I arrived a mere half hour early and all seats were taken. Though my skirt was skin-tight, I managed to sit on the floor without a) falling into someone's lap b) flashing anyone. I clutched my new Garner's usage dictionary and my copy of Wallace's Consider the Lobster.

Twenty minutes to go and someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up, and attached to that tapping finger was ultrababe David Foster Wallace, his long and lovely hair, those scholarly spectacles, that five o'clock shadow. . . And I'm pretty sure he's been working out, because motherofgod, the t-shirt! He knelt to run his fingers along the spine of my Garner's usage dictionary, and for the first time in my life I was jealous of a book, and then he said in a deep, steady voice, "that's an excellent, excellent resource, you know." Then, get this (by now, everything seemed to be going in slow motion while Barry White played in the background): before disappearing through a side door he swept his fingers through his hair, and I swear that in his wake lingered the smell of wool, ocean air, and libraries.

I can't say what happened in the interim between the hair-sweeping incident and the moment he so gracefully ascended the stairs to the stage (and readers, I won't even try to describe the way he filled out his jeans). I may have been unconscious. But I came to in time to hear Mr. Wallace inviting everyone who was sitting on the floor to move up to the front, near the stage. Which I did, and I listened, rapt, while he read "The View From Mrs. Thompson's," an essay about witnessing the events of 911 unfold on TV while sitting in a neighbor's crowded living room. One sentence, in particular, struck me:

[The] thing about [. . .] hay fever is that you can't ever be totally sure someone's crying, but over the two hours of first-run Horror, with bonus reports of the crash in PA and Bush being moved into an SAC bunker and a car bomb that's gone off in Chicago (the latter then retracted), pretty much everybody either cries or comes very close, according to his or her relative abilities. [Lobster, 138]

After the reading I asked David Foster Wallace what he meant by the final word, "abilities," in that quote; I privately wondered if he was referring to "the ability to hold back tears," or "the ability to weep?" The answer, I thought, would provide me with an even deeper insight into David who, I'd pretty much decided, was my soul mate; we both read usage dictionaries cover-to-cover, after all. And as I mentioned, those pectorals of his. . .

His answer was long and surprising and to be honest tedious and addressed the idea that watching the events of 911 unfold on television is highly ironic because one can't help wondering how much of it is staged, so it's difficult to cry without feeling stupid when one is so detached from blah-bitty blah blah blah.

Which, okay, do we have to intellectualize even those things that might move us deeply? By doing so aren't we purposely distancing ourselves in order to sort of "step" on them, and further to use this new and elevated position as a vantage for pointing out how we are too clever to simply view a thing on its own level? Can we not be clever without always having to be more-clever-than? Can we ever, in this present world, cry without feeling ashamed? By constantly casting doubt on sincerity aren't we destroying its very possibility?

To be fair, Mr. Wallace's popularity reached its peak in the early nineties, when he was cast as a writer who spoke for the most cynical generation of all. He was live, in person, and on stage, speaking to an audience of generation X-ers who (perhaps) might have come to expect a certain ironic approach. And after having read Mr. Wallace's stories, 1 I don't for a minute believe the defensive posture.

David Foster Wallace, I still love you, but the candle I once burned for you is no longer the brightest.

1See "Incarnations of Burned Children," and here's an excerpt, just to prove my point: "If you've never wept and want to, have a child."[Oblivion, 116].


Blogger josh williams said...

I have never heard of the guy since he was mentioned on your site. Me I have the compact OED, it is hella cool. I don't think hella is in the good book yet, or even hecka cool. Meeting a hero/ hearthrob and finding them to be human is not uplifting but maybe liberating in a way. So what I am getting at is what the hell are we going to do with all these mole people that Jane and Roscoe pissed of and in the background I have discovered crabcake was in cahoots with the duo diablo. Strength ing Strength as Walter used to say...I think~`

8:39 PM

Blogger ginab said...

Ing--better men take three hours. I have the bo-speak (and in 'little bo peep') impression he replied according to what he expected you'd wanted him to say. Maybe it was your skirt that drove him. Maybe everything you'd asked was to blame. ability. More than anything, you know your pal here loathes expectation.

He had some. Hello, Mister McArthur Genius?

And that T-shirt (not to break wind) is, the chest I mean, being worked out.

On working out but really on eating better, a co-worker of mine had thought purchasing raw nuts bulk at a speciality store for $14.99 a pound was a deal.

I'm GLAD all over you made the reading. FInalmente. And i am glad I can steer the co-worker dear clear, if you know what I'm getting at.

Them raw nuts in bulk. Yeesh!


9:52 PM

Blogger Chuck Dawson said...

can't polish a turd.

11:07 PM

Blogger ing said...


The compact OED -- are you proposing to me again? I've never had such a peristent suitor!

(I have to catch up. I don't get the crabcake reference.)


Bulk nuts? Ye gods, what will they think of next!

I had my own expectations, though, or at least some sort of ideal. Which isn't, I suppose, exactly fair.


You can do anything you set your mind to. Stop lamenting; polish on, my good man; and don't let anyone tell you that you can't.

(I hear polished turds make nice jewelry, which, if you ever move out to the West Coast, you could sell out of the back of your truck.)

11:25 PM

Blogger matty said...

ing -- you know, while roaming the Haight today I almost purchased a polished turd which had been outfitted on a black string. However, the asking price was far too high for string.

I think he got all superficially cerebral on you because he was trying hard to impress the hot GenX'er with the copy of Garner's Usage Dictionary...

12:43 AM

Blogger ing said...

Oh, Matty, you flatter me. I think it was the polished turd pendant a-dangling between my breasts. They're so beguiling, and so very, very polished. (Those pendants, I mean.) (The kind that hang on a string, I mean #2.)

Sheesh, did I cover all my bases there?

Or, okay, maybe it was my hotness & my syntax, who knows.

1:14 AM

Blogger ticharu said...

Realizing it was staged comes later...

6:20 AM

Blogger ing said...

In the Shakespearean sense, as in, the world is a stage and we are all players?

I hope not! But when I was a kid I had this feeling that everything happening around me was pre-planned and artificial and staged for my benefit. In other words, I was the only person on the planet acting spontaneously and I was just part of this big experiment in which everyone else around me was pretending to be real. Later I heard that lots of kids feel that way.

We were there.

7:52 AM

Blogger ing said...


And better, in the case of big tragedies, that our first instinct is to empathize. Suspicion shouldn't be the first thought -- as you said, it comes later. Because it's self-reflective, and tragedies are bigger than the little self-in-the-living-room.

8:12 AM

Blogger wallycrawler said...

I know how ya feel [this sort of relates ] I once met O.J. Simpson , way before dat murder thing . I was maybe 13 or 14 and my dad would take me to Buffalo Bills games , needless to say I was a huge "Juice" fan . On a weekend dad drove me to a shopping mall and the surprise was O.J. would be there sign'n stuff . We waited in line for hours until the big meeting ...The first words I hear out'a his mouth , "How da fuck long do I have to do this" ? He looks at me forces a smile , "Hey kid " ! Looks past me tells his manager [I guess] "I never want to come up here again man" ! My dad knew I was disappointed . Dad told me then and there , " people will never live up to your expectations , especially if you put them on a pedestal , he's just a man and with it imperfect" . I realized right then who the real hero was , I was looking at him !

8:59 AM

Blogger ticharu said...

YES YES YES!!! That's it entirely! Empathy first!

'I know I was there...'

9:21 AM

Blogger crabcake said...

And this, is why I love you ing.

"By constantly casting doubt on sincerity aren't we destroying its very possibility?"

Take heart in knowing that it's not likely anyone meeting you for the first time will feel disappointed or let down.

And Wallycrawler, it just plain sucks that OJ would speak that way in front of a kid who obviously looked up to him. What a jerk!

On another note: Beware of the mole people. They are everywhere. (psssst. they even tried to kill my lover, SpongeBob.)

I am on a mission to help Josh capture and destroy the dastardly mole people. You'll be seeing photos of them soon. On my last trip out I discovered a camp of them and took many pictures.
(sadly I need heads still. If there's anyone that you guys would care to see as the head of a dastardly mole e-mail it to me

I of course will take complete responsibility, as I run away on cat-like feets.

1:04 PM

Blogger josh williams said...

I am confident the mole people are under control. I have a device that will kill them in an instant, unless your back is turned, what? (Our hero looks behind himself to see who is calling his name) well anyway whe.....................

10:32 PM

Blogger ing said...


That sucks about OJ. I remember him vaulting that gate to catch his plane, all airborne and (honestly!) wholesome. Which was at the time strangely liberating; I mean liberating to see this handsome African American man and to not have the television ask us to laugh at him, but to laugh with him, because he beat the system, he made the plane by virtue of his natural athleticism and good cheer, and we all cheered him back, and he was us, just as all great athletes are us.

Ah, well.


I do believe we were separated at birth. Do you have a scar down the length of your spine that stops at the fourth vertebrae?


I love you, too.

But about your spongeiform lover, when you two get, umm -- intimate, does that mean you don't have to use a contraceptive sponge? I mean, in addition to the sponge himself?


First of all, didn't I tell you to carry a mirror at all times? Second, I told you that if someone with a weaselly and mole-ish lilt called your name, you weren't to respond.


Josh, you there?


11:02 PM

Blogger jungle jane said...

Ing, have my heart. I will never need it again - its yours to use as a spare...

5:15 AM

Blogger ginab said...

Jane--neat hair. Maybe you're heart is on your head? Sometimes, I'll leave stuff, a stack of books from the library on the roof of my running car, and one day...why!

I'm a little sick today from hearing details about a birth (my aunt is a grandma). And then I'm looking at DFW's mug and I notice those permanent lines framing his smile and I wonder why on a man that's 'handsome' as in 'verile' whereas on women, creases send dry signals? But hearing about the be glad!

7:49 AM

Blogger jungle jane said...

Gina i think cupid threw a rotten tomato at my head.

DFW is just utterly edible he is so lovely. i suspect he possibly knows that though...

12:33 PM

Blogger Captain Carl said...

Arr...this be a sad thing indeed

Let the Capt play his Horn Pipe to bring bout yer Spirits

As long as ye have yer self ye need no else.

The Sea be a lonely place but it be a Big Place with plenty of fish

Ing ye have a wonderful blog
it shivers me timbers

4:03 PM

Blogger ginab said...

Then, cupid shot me in the head with an unripe green tomato. Felt like a small bolder, but I suspect everyone's laughing--a bolder isn't small.

Yeah I'd bet my mother DFW is fond of his mug and physique. And that mind! I am pleased as punch he has given up wearing a bandana for a cap. I'd thought for a few years cupid might have barphed Colorforms on his head.

6:50 PM

Blogger crabcake said...

Ing, though I have been asked not to tell anyone, I will tell you....but you must promise not to repeat this to a soul.

SpongeBob shoots blanks. Actually my little sponge muffin has trouble shooting at all since the mole people mistakingly slaughtered his stunt double thinking it was him.

I am confident once the mole people have been found and eliminated with my high powered mole sprayer that Josh will be recovered and Spongy will once again rise to the occasion.

7:35 PM

Blogger Chris Capp said...

It was DFW's show and he was plain intimidated by Ing's question and felt a strong need to get back on top of the situation, which sometimes means talking until [hopefully] you find your profound point. He didn't that time. I say cut him some slack and give yourself some credit. You could still meet halfway and make a great couple.

Chris, the Irish-Italian yenta

9:39 PM

Blogger DorianGray1854 said...

Sorry about your man problems.It sucks when people don't fill our hopes and dreams. If it makes you feel any better the last reading I went to was Dennis Johnson. He got lost in the middle of his new work, came to an abrupt stop, then began to read from Jesus' Son. I think his fuck up' made him seem more human. Its so nerve wrecking to be in front of a crowd. He was probably just trying his best:-)

Johnny Guitar rules!!
So does the Peggy Lee song:-p

10:20 PM

Blogger ing said...


The thing is, you have one of those rare and golden hearts. We need their owners to hang on to them instead of giving them away. You give away your heart, Jane, you may as well give away your head. Please keep your treasure safe, and I will always know where it's buried, and me & captain carl will swordfight the pirates in its defense.



Maybe those "smile lines" are the result of an arduous and gory birth? In which case, they're a testament to DFW's huge head and to mom's tenacity.

(A tenacity I do not have. Though suddenly I've had this weird urge to raise a daughter. So mind you, I didn't say "episiotomy" or "epidural"; I'm dreaming of adoption. All-in-all, I hope this feeling passes, though.)


JJ again:

Yes, and I believe those "smile lines" are actually "smirk lines." Still, though, he's allowed to eat crackers in my bed. . .


Cap'n Carl:

You make me timbers shiver! And begorrah, that shanty you played warmed me cockles, ay, it did. Arrrrr!


It sure feels like a boulder. Or maybe a cast-iron pan.

But ulp, I guess I kind of thought the bandanna thing was cute. I'm soooo naiive. Can I still love him for the hair and the glasses (in addition to his pure linguistic genius)? Can I? Can I? Puh-leeeeeeze?



A word to the wise: to make a sponge rise, you need only add water. Keep it under your hat, though (I mean, the word to the wise, not the new-risen sponge -- keep that under a raincoat). Those moles are nefarious lot.


Chris Capp:

True, some slack should be cut. I guess when I'm so in awe of a person and that person seems to have absolute command over the English language (which, I sure don't) and they're at the same time breathtakingly beautiful and famous, I sort of assume they're never ever nervous but instead supremely cool and confident. Mr. Wallace did mention that he was perspiring and that he was very aware that the audience was present (though I can't say that this alleged perspiration was evident). So okay, I'm moving him back to the top of my list with the knowledge that he will be a high-maintenance husband.



Woah, you saw Denis Johnson? I know Jesus's Son was the huge one, but have you read The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millenium General Assembly (which, maybe you already knew this, but the title refers to St. James, the Janitor)? I'm a huge sucker for janitors who go on to make it big (Raymond Carver & Thom Jones & I think even Denis Johnson).

Because, and not to get all geeky here, one of my favorite writers, Greg Bottoms, wrote a story about St. James.

Anyway, D. Dogg, Johnny Guitar does rule, as does Joan Crawford in her role.

11:40 PM

Blogger FLAMINGO1 said...

I hate it when I spend a lot of time writing a really good post and then some stupid son of a bitch posts a message about something entirely unrelated.

It just seems like my entire body of work was wasted.

Anyway, I noticed your link to Bonny Doon Vineyards. I love their wine and their quirky philosophy. I have never been to the vineyard, but I would love to visit.

Just curious why you included that link.

12:31 AM

Blogger FLAMINGO1 said...

P.S. I have decided that you are worthy of a link in my Blogs of Note.

Crack open the champaigne and stop by now and again. You crack my shit up.

12:32 AM

Blogger ing said...

Hey, flamingo!

My posts are just sort of a prompt to get everyone else talking because honestly, I'm much more interested in everyone's dialogue than I am in me own self-indulgent blitherings. (Which I know sounds really modest, but if you think about it, if I was truly modest, would I intentionally make this self-deprecating comment and then go on and on self-consciously about myself?)

Anythefuckway, I linked to Bonny Doon Vineyards because
a) I luuvs wine
b) I have (or had?) a house very near the vineyard
c) Randall Grahm, who I guess is the owner?, writes these hugely awesome newsletters and things and I'm a big, as in practically obese, fan
d) I check their employment link occasionally because wouldn't it be cool to work there? I think so.

I'll fly on over to your blog to check it out, and if you're ever out this way, meet me at the vineyard, yeah?

12:44 AM

Blogger lryicsgrl said...

Wow, I mean Wow, he is gorgeous. Sorry your bubble was bursted, just a little.
Would be a shame if he was merely trying to impress you. You in the tight skirt and just the right bra!
I will be going to B&N today, and picking up a copy of the Garner's usage dictionary. Very impressive!
Do you think such a ordinary bookstore like B&N carries it? Hmmm? I'll let you know.

6:20 AM

Blogger DorianGray1854 said...

I sadly have not had the opprotunity to check out D.J.'s other works, I am a nontraditional student in my last year working for my english major, I have been buried in the wonderful writings of Shelley, Byron, Coleridge and Wordsworth etc..

Joan Crawford grrrrrrrrr, She's one mean doll, I bet she ate sheet metal for breakfast then began filming for the day.

8:09 AM

Blogger Captain Carl said...

Ing, if you'll be stoppin by reguarly the good Capt will be makin ya one of me Crew. I should enjoy Plundering through these blog's and defendin Janey's heart.

Tis be nice ta have a smile on me old face again.

Yer scribblings be making the Capt a happy swab

10:13 AM

Blogger ginab said...

Hey-um, should be doing a zillion other things... life really idle? If so, guys and gals, check out Ed Rants and latest comments in response to his Infinte Gist-ness.

holy-B to me.


11:30 AM

Blogger josh williams said...

I'm back you have no idea what its like to travel throught the entire digestive tract of a mole person, however I did gain valuable knowledge and a stench. I go bathe now. Thanks for your concern. JW

2:05 PM

Blogger matty said...

Ing -- I worry for Josh, sometimes. We all need to send him a big cyber hug and some soap!

7:53 PM

Blogger JackJumpedOverTheMoon said...


Your David Foster Wallace story has inspired my next Jazzblog post indirectly. Tonight at midnight I'm going to put up a post about Jaco Pastorius. He was a real cutie, and one of those sweet, artistic, talented, intelligent types of men that I get the impression I am not alone in having my heart flutter over.

Come by and check him out!


9:49 PM

Blogger ticharu said...

Ukelele Lady ROCKS!!! I've got a Thai (I think it's Thai) compilation from the 1960s that you would LUV! There is a version of Day Tripper on it that RULES!

10:48 AM

Blogger ginab said...

Hey and I liked the Trappist family or whomever's answering machine. The mother calls a lot. A LOT! Would get on my nerves...that helplessness.

Don't be helpless, I'd say to the mother. Back to pushing real issues...


11:26 AM

Blogger ing said...


He didn't burst my bubble so much as deflate it a little. Later, though, he made it up to me.



Nontraditionals make the best students!

Have you ever heard someone sawing through sheet metal? That's my least favorite noise. My most favorite is Jungle Jane's buttery croon. She sings "Waltzing Matilda" so soothingly, you won't even recognize the words.



Long as ye don't expect me t'wash your jock strap (I fear I am a wench). Leave the task t' me first matey, Dirty Sanchez.



At last, someone thinks my footnote is cute!



I do know, and the only thing for the stench is 1 part molasses to 1 part blueberry pie filling. Give 'er a try, and let me know how it works.



Cyber is all I can muster until the above treatment takes effect.



Jaco was babe'n indeed!



I think I've heard that one, and yeah, it's awsome! (At work we have some kind of sixties Thai thing that I whip out occasionally.) Have you heard Jacques Dutronc? I think you'd love him.



I wanted to see The Trachtenburgs on Weds night, but alas, I have to work. Here's the scoop: they're a mom, a dad, and their ten-year-old girl. They go around to garage sales, buy peoples' old slides, and make up songs about them (the slides, not the sales or the peeps). Their concerts are supposed to be amazing.

The friend named Casper on the answering machine is one of the members of The Presidents of the United States.

My battery is almost gone. Gotta run.


1:34 PM

Blogger Captain Carl said...

AYe.....That be fine with the Capt.....When all is done....I break open me finest rum...or best yet ye can choose yer own poison....and we'll go on Account

ye ever made it with a peg leg before?

2:34 PM

Blogger DorianGray1854 said...

I have heard this noise and agree it is mind numbing. Jane's voice is simply smashing. It has been decided that we are going to start recording and touring together under the genre of Death Penalty Beats. Look for us in your local Sam Goody soon.

3:24 PM

Blogger Bill the Apostle said...

Don't you find him a little pedantic?

Anyway I'll be over later, and this time really fucking scream when I knock the door down, none of that "aaaaa..theres someone in the house" shit..fuck that

Jesus loves you

4:56 PM

Blogger jungle jane said...

Ing you have been tainted with a tagging over on my blog...let's keep it clean and decent, eh?

5:23 PM

Blogger FLAMINGO1 said...

I hate to soil an intellectual post with something so trite as tagging you...but you are hereby tagged.

I will never do this again. I assure you.

10:03 PM

Blogger FLAMINGO1 said...

dammit, this is the third time I have been to late. Just pretend that I complied and you only have to do one silly post to cover both Jane's tag and my tag.

I will gladly suffer the consequences of breaking the chain.

10:05 PM

Blogger matty said...

what's "tagging"?

is it dirty?

confused but not at all sleepy

1:03 AM

Blogger ticharu said...

I've not heard Dutronc that I know of.
Since you wouldn't want to miss 'supergirl' I rotated it back to the top of the 'Dripping' blog just for you.
Also, if you ever get a chance to see any video of Ina Ray Hutton and her Melodears, do not pass it by! Swing era all women orchestra! Dead cool!

5:22 AM

Blogger ginab said...

Matty, I was wondering the same thing. Tagging. Only for the hip and unsouled, or I dunno. Why would they invite Ing? She's only hip. But she is to the eye teeth! She is through and through!

9:45 AM

Blogger Seychelle said...

Oh, Sweet Narcissus... it's hard to be humble...

7:33 PM

Blogger jungle jane said... you all know, i am uncouth. i used to think tagging was...erm...having a gang bang.

so i happily accepted the offer.

then i discovered its like getting a chain letter.

imagine my shock and suprise. i expected a roll in the hay and got a fluffy kitten and the instruction to pass it on to others.

anyhow. i outsourced mine and got a mate to write my meme....

2:20 AM

Blogger ing said...


I choose Boddington's. And I have yet to make it with a peg leg. I make my Boddington's in a keg. Would you hobble over and pour me a glass while you're up? Thanks.



The Death Penalty Beats . . . is your music some kind of substitute for the chair? Because I don't find that very humane, you two.


Bill, Sugar:

Ooooh, Bill, you said "pedantic." Say it again! Pleeeease? I PROMISE I'll scream. (Door's unlocked as usual. I've still got that ether, just in case.)



Please don't tag my taint. I've just had it sandblasted.



Please don't soil my post. I've just had it chained.



Aw, c'mon, you know what tagging is! Quit pretending to be all innocent!



Ina Ray -- I'll keep a watchful eye for her and those Melodears, for sure. You ever see the Trachtenbergs? I'm hugely bummed I can't go!



i to the muthafucking teeth, homeboy.

Once you've been tagged, though, you never get it back. The first cut is the deepest. (I'm quoting Cat Stevens, here, not Rod Sewart or Sheryl Crow. Am I still hip?)



Narcissus was pretty sweet, but he was always hogging the mirror. Our humility won't get him to move -- how 'bout we try acting all stuck up for a change?



Wait. It's not a gang bang? Well, who the hell invented it, and why?

2:53 AM

Blogger ticharu said...

The Trachtenbergs? No but I'll remember that name for sure.
Have you seen Tich TV yet? I don't think I gave you the link.
Go to and follow the link embedded in the title 'If You See Her Muse'
It's a webcam performance.

7:06 AM

Blogger josh williams said...

To WHom it may concern: I do not smell like the enternals of a mole person anylonger. ing thanks for the recipe to rid me of my stank.
Now you have been tagged and you have to be eaten by a mole person, take a water/bile proof digital and take silly photos, when this is done you tag someone else and they have to do the same.
Oh Gang bang at Roscoes next week he will be out of town, dont tell him or he might not approve. jW

7:32 AM

Blogger Captain Carl said...


8:14 AM

Blogger ginab said...

yer hipper than shit, Ing.

8:53 AM

Blogger matty said...

Ing -- I know I give off this "worldly" view -- what with my dashing model good looks and high powered career, but I am an innocent!

...however, I think I might have been tagged last night by these two sweaty dudes on Polk Street. Not quite sure, tho.

11:01 AM

Blogger Bloodgood said...

Ing-The David Byrne link is sweet, I didn't know he has an online journal, Thanks! It sounds as if your pretty well read. Other than reading a couple of Tom Robbins books here and there, its hard to find the time. Films and music are a different story.
Nice Blog!

5:06 PM

Blogger matty said...

Ing -- am in desperate need of an Ing posting! I would love to hear more about your work and interactions which result! Must be some interesting moments!

...countdown is on for disco fantastic!!!!

Oh, and I sent A an email --- and no reply! LOL! ...but what do i do if one of the producers turns out to be interested???!? I guess I will have to have you tell him!

Why is it that I can't ever read word verifications??? It always takes me two to three times to get it right!

5:30 PM

Blogger jungle jane said...

Ing, I no longer lust David Wallace Foster. He's all yours. I am going to give callous cold heartedness another go - no more eye candy crushes for me, ta. I'm not even going to window shop.

11:37 PM

Blogger Seychelle said...

I haven't seen Jesus Is Magic. Christ, I haven't even seen The Aristocrats... they are on my list of must sees. I need clones of myself - for movies, books, phone calls, watering the plants, sleeping, etc... although I do place comedy above all else. It's good to laugh.

You know what, I believe we share the same birthday, Nov. 29th (I used to be Jupiter Woman). I knew one other person with the same birthday 10 years before mine and she ended up stealing my car, but that's another story... she considered it a gift -- it's the thought that counts.

11:40 PM

Blogger ing said...


I tried the TV thing, and though I couldn't get the audio, I saw a few moments of you strumming the old guitar. Ticharu in action! Woo! You've got the moves, baby!


If Roscoe's not there, what's in it for me? (You know how I feel about Roscoe.)


Arrr. . .EEEEEEEK!


Hip deep in shit, you mean.


Wait, two guys, super sweaty, no shoes, no shirts, no service?

Yeah, they tagged me too. It was definitely dirty.


I likes film, I likes music, and I likes scooters. I'll check out your prefs, 'kay?


A new posting? Aye aye, captain! (Captain Carl is dead and I'm in need of a leader. One who will allow me to drink all the rum & sail off to Tahiti. So I choose you.)

That A. . . so busy all the time! So missing-out-to-producers!

I'm wearing my invisible roller skates, because a place where nobody dared to go, the love that we came to know, they call it Xanadu.


I'm going to continue to window shop. But I'm going to look in better stores from now on. (David Foster Wallace still works for me, though.)


Jupiter Woman! I remember you. . .
I want to hear about this car thing! I'll ask you on your blog, maybe tomorrow. Tonight I've GOT to sleep.

1:14 AM

Blogger J Miller | said...

| I'm so confused.

8:05 AM


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