Monday, April 04, 2005

the world owes me nothing

Posted by: brimful
the world owes me nothing
A very special f*** you from me to Flickr and the whole daylight savings time business. Ah, but you might think I'm grumpy... but behold, I am not. How can one dare to be grumpy when a little package shows up on your doorstep on Sunday afternoon with the contents I've poorly photographed here? Sorry, don't mean to embarrass you, sweet lady of the lowlands, but a vainglorious display of my good fortune must be shared here.

The worst conversations I've had have involved the frustration of feeling that a person just doesn't get me. I've beaten dead horses trying to explain myself on occasion. It may explain my inability to post succinctly. And since I've structured this blog such that only a sliver of me is represented, I've always assumed that I ought to be bracing myself for the onslaught. And it's not that I suddenly feel relieved, feel that worry is dispensable. No. It's just that I'm giddy really at the generosity of a stranger. And of course there is the music, the sweet sweet music. Bob Mould and Social Distortion turned me into a teeniac, bopping around fueled by nostalgia. PJ Harvey, Whiskeytown, and Rufus Wainwright turned me into a melancholy mess. I can be a pretty steady person when I want to be, but when music is involved, all bets are off.

My blog doesn't mean much, doesn't have much of a purpose, but it's still been flailing for the past few weeks. A little too much drama queen. I have to get back the bond as my cousins would say- I still can't explain that adjective, by the by, I think it can best be translated to something to do with backbone and bravery. Yesterday, I set the reset button, and I think the angst will fall away a bit, with any luck.

In other news, on Friday night, I saw my future husband, Zach Galifianakis, perform at the 826 Valencia benefit. In addition to his crazy ass last name, Galifianakis exhibited a characteristic I forget about when I'm snarking on actors and others in the entertainment industry... genius can be eclipsed by the Hollywood powers that be. Because I recognized his name when I was perusing the channels on Thursday night, I caught a glimpse of my future husband on the Fox crapfest Tru Calling, and he plays a rather dull, oafy character, a forgettable character. But put Galifianakis on a stage without the restrictions of such a boring character, and he's transformed. He pensively rubbed his head, so that his hair gets more and more maniacal. He made droll, Stephen Wright-esque observations while imitating a lounge lizard on the piano, like the following: "The only time it's good to say 'I have diarrhea' is when you're playing Scrabble... because that's a sh**load of points." And he finished his set with a boy's choir singing The Greatest Love of All while delivering an insanely hilarious Subterranean Homesick Blues-inspired barrage of flip chart pages. I'm not really capturing it very well, but seriously, Zach, I'm yours. Quiet, dysfunctional, self-deprecating, vaguely batsh** crazy, not pretty-boy handsome... what more could I want, really?

I blame the time difference yesterday on the irrational behavior I exhibited yesterday morning, when I made personal history by purchasing my first piece of jewelry ever. Yep, it's true- having an Indian mom obsessed with jewelry and having very little inclination towards such decor, I've never thought to buy anything in the necklace-ring-earring family. So I can only claim temporary insanity and a 50% off rack (hey, I'm guju, the genetics are stacked up against me) for the dangly ruby colored earrings that are now in my possession. Weird. Maybe I'll freak myself out even further and actually wear them some day.

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