Ceci n'est pas une cybercarnet.

Canada legalizes gay marriage; Quebec to propose to France.

I had to share my wanna-be daily show headline.

I wish this said "I am a number."

Or even, "I am a mumbler."

Yeah, and I know no one reads this anymore, but big news is coming in July. New project from the mind that brought you such good ideas as: record label! print zine! web zine! music blog! and other sundry things!

English? We don't need no stinkin' English.

It's been a week of foreign movies. Last night, Matt and K and I saw 2046, wkw's new movie. It was good, although it did drag in parts, but on the whole, a beautiful picture. Tony Leung was great, reminiscent of Bogey. The whole thing had sort of a J.D. Salinger meets Philip K. Dick feel to it.
The night before K and I went to see Caterina in the Big City, which is sort of like mean Girls, if Mean Girls dealt with Fascism, Communisim, and feelings of impotence and frustration.
And then Wednesday, K and Dan and I went to see Howl's Moving Castle at one of my favorite theaters in LA (well, South Pasadena), the Rialto. I just wish Landmark would give it the Vista treatment and remove every other row of seats and do a little restoration (if only you could sit in the balcony). Howl's was good, better than any Disney movie in the last ten years. But it's hard not to judge every Miyazaki movie against Spirited Away and Porco Rosso, my two favorites. I've been a bit Miyazaki crazy in the last couple weeks, buying Porco and Nausicaa on DVD. The man is a singular talent, and I say that never having seen Totoro or his Lupin III movie.
Switching gears, today I'm going to see David Byrne and the Arcade Fire in what my buddy Santiago and I just decided is the LA concert of the summer, if not the year. Everyone I know is going to be there, which makes me glad we're taking the metro to Hollywood and Highland and walking up.
All this, and sometime this week I'm going to find the time to see Land of the Dead. Life (or undeath) is good.

Delroy has a website.

It's called the iterated chef, "Recipes for One + One + One + One + One." It's funny stuff, and having had about 20 percent of the recipies on there, I have to say they're good. Go see.

Stevetastic, indeed.

The New Sesame Street

Why is everybody on the Daily Show white?

Just wondering.

The Plath of the righteous.

You know you're in trouble when you're trying to articulate a feeling you're having and you say to yourself "there's a Sylvia Plath quote that sort of sums this up, if I could only remember it."

Well, this is it:
"I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue. It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next. It made me tired just to think of it. I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it."

And it's not really as bleak as all of that, my days just seem to be losing definition. And on some level, that makes me fear losing definition.
You know, I can't really complain about my job, or anything else, and sometimes slipping into the monotony of life doesn't seem that bleak, less like monotony and more like rhythm, but I guess somehow, I sort of thought having a master's degree would change something. Oh well. Something like 20 days till David Byrne and the Arcade Fire.