December 25, 2003
You know the shape my breath will take before I let it out
The only thing I want for Christmas:
(ok, that and a tea kettle. but I can live without the tea kettle.)
Merry Christmas from all us heathens here in Spigland!
WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' "How do you do?"
They're really saying "I love you"
I hear babies cryin', I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world
- George Weiss & Bob Thiele
December 22, 2003
Ye best be sayin' my name, lassie!
Mad Davy Kidd
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!
Mad World, Merry Christmas
So we know what the Christmas #1 is. And that's pretty cool.
Shooting five year-olds isn't.
This is sort of funny in that "Holy FUCK!!! They're dirtier than we even thought! They're fucking lying to us, how do you people not see this!"-Bill Hicks-scary-as-shit-when-you-stop-laughing sort of way.
I guess this is why people believe in higher powers. To comfort them in the face of a little kid being shot in the chest while he's holding a sandwich. Or to make them feel like that even though their leaders are lying, cheating, hypocritical bastards, somehow, the world won't implode. Or explode.
Maybe this is why this shit bothers me so much. Maybe if I just accepted Christ as my lord and saviour, I would just ignore this shit like everyone else.
And start liking NASCAR and Creed.
FUCK THAT SHIT.
I'll enjoy my family's godless Christmas and shit my pants about where the world is headed, thankyouverymuch.
December 15, 2003
All I want for christmas...
is a Super Fast Monkey Car.
I have no idea what one is, but some guy named Fritz was looking for one over at Kevynn's site.
And good god does that sound cool.
I also want a membership to KCRW, the best radio station in LA, and quite possibly the USA, even if they only played engine shed stuff a very few times.
I could also desperately use a new printer. Matt tells me i should get one with tray loading paper, like the HPs. I don't know. I don't care. I just want it to be fast and not fuck up. It took over an hour to print my 68 page play the other day. That should take like 10 minutes at most.
Also, a teakettle. I've found myself fixing lots of tea lately, and i enjoy it. But I'm thinking maybe I'd like an actual kettle rather than using a pot or a saucepan all the time.
A bookcase. I have books everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I need one to go in front of my Scooby-doo revolving door so I can get some of the boxes out of my living room.
A rug. Something to tie the room together.
A new computer chair that won't ruin my back.
Oh, a coffee table. Then I could have people over and we could eat in the bedroom/livingroom/den instead of the cramped kitchen/dining/storage room.
A screen printing set-up would be beyond rad. Then I could make t-shirts with anything on them. I think the screen printing stuff might be a close second to the Monkey Car.
A filing cabinet would be nice as well.
I think that's everything. Well, I mean, unless you can get me in to meet Bono, Steve Martin, Peter Gabriel, Julian Barnes, Wes Anderson, or Joe Frank.
Oh, Gift Certificates to Amoeba would be cool, too.
Just kidding. Don't buy me anything. Just be nicer to people. And smile more. Hug each other more. And beat up at least one Limp Bizkit/Korn/Nickleback/Creed listening punk-ass motherfucker who thinks he's all tough and needs to show it by starting fights at lame mall bars. Hell, I'd be happy if ya' killed him. Then maybe I'd see less stupid fights around LA. They're like roaches, people.
Happy Christmas. (War is Over. If Bush Wants it.)
December 14, 2003
December 11, 2003
because i love you kids
Do the breasts and testicles disturb anyone else?
via tony pierce.
The other tony pierce.
December 10, 2003
Number of times the word fuck (or variations thereof, e.g., fucker, fucking, motherfucker, etc.) appears in the 63 pages of dialogue in my play: 67
I just UPSed off my play.
That is officially the longest thing I have ever completed.
I think I have a couple novel scraps and two screen plays that made it over the 68 page mark, but nothing ever finished.
It feels good.
I'm delirious.
It feels like I'm high.
Sweet, sweet sleep deprivation.
Also, I run the tightest pirate ship in the shipping business.
And yes, Virginia, we have both zombies and librarians in our crew.
But the zombies keep eating the librarians.
Cause librarians are no match for zombies, silly.
Oh, and on a completely different note, she, is one of god's most amazing creatures. Beautiful, soothing, good in the sack, able to bring me down from the frantic panics I work myself into, and she makes a mean potato soup, and a snazzy fruit egg roll.
In short, she both rocks and rolls.
December 08, 2003
oh, it's been kinda busy lately, so I forgot to mention...
Starting January 11th, I will be hosting two hours of radio mayhem with my intern, Grandmaster Melly mEL. At 4am. Sunday mornings. So I'll probably drag in people I meet at the bars as guests. And there's a good chance I'll be drunk or jacked up on coffee.
Plan B
Sundays, 4am-6am PST
(for you east coast kids that's 7am-9am. Almost reasonable).
you can listen online at kscrradio.com
expect obscure indie music,
radio plays (including a special presentation of War of the Worlds with a glam rock soundtrack!),
and general zaniness.
oh, and those of you with free long distance on your celphones are expected to call in and say hi.
And now, a reading from the book of Revelation
3:15
I know what you have done, that you are neither cold nor hot. How I wish you were either one or the other!
3:16
But because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will vomit you out of my mouth!
WORD.
December 07, 2003
MACAVITY, THE MYSTERY CAT
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw -
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air -
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square -
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -
But it's useless to investigate - Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
'It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known,
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime.
-T.S. Eliot
December 06, 2003
HEY!!!! I'M TRYIN' TA LEARN YA SUMTIN'!
AND they do an incredible cover of Beautiful, that song by the dirrrty dirrrty Chritina Haguleriaieraia.
Some of you may ask, "O Steve of the Spigot, what do the Clems and the Snides sound like?"
And to you I would say, take one part Counting Crows, one part Uncle Tupelo, one part They Might Be Giants, and one part JUST CLICK THE FIRST "CLEM SNIDE!" LINK AND FIND OUT FOR YOUR DAMN SELF. Oh, and one part go-buy-all-their albums.
Carry on.
December 04, 2003
Do you ever get that disconcerting feeling that everything just maybe might be going to be ok?
I feel like that right now.
Disconcerting, but lovely.
My heart is filled with a warm glow, my apartment is filled with the sounds of Cornershop, a pretty girl showering in the bathroom, and I'm almost done with everything.
Everything I spent the horrible last 40+ hours slaving over isn't due 'til next week, and I'm not even mad we have to have a class the week after classes are over, 'cause now, I'm ahead.
And I get to go see a funny man do his thing in a little over an hour.
And I love all my friends, the ones who don't know about the blog, the ones who read it all the time, and the ones that I made through the wonderful innovation that is blogging.
Things is good.
To paraphrase Miss Hall, "Spiggy is good."
December 03, 2003
I don't understand exactly why you people keep reading, but can I just say...
the people who read my blog are the best readers in all of blogdom.
good god.
I'm a flake.
I owe the chops a t-shirt, a CD and other goodies.
I owe Eric/petey coffee, drinks and some bonding time.
I owe Styro CDs.
I owe my blog a belated one year birf-day (he's this many).
ugh, ugh, ugh.
And there's like a billion other things.
But I have to finish all my final projects.
Then I'll do all that, finish the story, and celebrate with my boy-blog PROPER, yo.