I have neglected my LJ since it was *compromised* last November. I figured I would just abandon the thing like so much space junk, let it circle out in space for a few years before it flamed out gloriously during atmospheric re-entry.
Hmm. That sounds kinda perverse. Atmospheric re-entry. Like fucking a cloud.
But, here I am posting again, against my better judgment. Might as well paint a big ol’ bullseye on my virtual forehead. There are plenty of places to hide out on the Internet. In Serbian chat rooms, Anthony Michael Hall fan boards, or web site threads devoted to the pince nez or the Nez Perce. Instead of out here in the open on LJ where most of my Friends are actual flesh-n-blood friends, or lovers or ex-wives. Part of the attraction of a blog is the freedom that comes from being anonymous.
But my cover is blown and my round, dappled arse is exposed like a ripe, delicious apple waiting for a bite.
Damn.
I hate when I accidentally listen to Bad Music. Like that Hoobastank/Bare Naked Ladies shit that came on the radio that I just neglected to turn down. It hurt me. Bad music makes me mad. It makes my soul crumple up like an aluminum can. You can try to uncrumple it afterward but it never really looks right again.
Anyway. Note to self: do a better job of monitoring that radio knob.
It is snowing pretty hard still, teeny icy flakes swirling about and stacking up in the yard. One last wintry blast before the messianic onslaught of spring. My class was canceled this morning, but I went in anyway. I blasted The Clash in my office as a way of offering it as a refuge from UVA’s uptight hordes and snobbishness, preppified legacy. I also managed to get Double D to agree to let me use the wireless lavalier mike during my trip to New York over spring break next week. I dread lugging my film equipment on the train and through the streets of Manhattan, but it can’t be avoided.
I will certainly miss the rich resources of the university–the endless supply of computers, cameras, tripods, software licenses, printer paper. These things have often been more valuable than the actual book larnin’. But, then again I am a kinesthetic learner(KL)with a smidge of ADD. Hard for me to get much from those petrified lectures that are recited like Catholic liturgy.
Hard to frickin’ believe it is 5 pm already. My God. The gushing hours made a mess of my day.
I stumbled onto your journal shortly before you stopped writing. I rejoice that you’ve come back because you put together words deliciously and I promise that I won’t bite.
Why thank you, and I’m glad you stuck around.