UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu You are just a number to me! And that number is: PAGES UD MADE: My Books Page My Reviews Page My Reference Page My Music Page My Pictures My Store UD-RELATED PAGES: My LiveJournal My MySpace music page My Flickr page My del.icio.us page My Last.fm page My Amazon Wishlist HEAVY ROTATION Dan Deacon: Bromst Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavillion Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago Vampire Weekend: Vampire Weekend Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes BLOGS ETC claude le monde nuncstans rock 'em stock 'em tomato nation postmodern drunkard tuckova 22 ghastly mess constintina total virility fuzzysquid drunken bee stacey nightmare elyse from ANTM stereolabrat dark side points jf_franklin 123 i love you READ NOW brotherhood 2.0 NOT BLOGS ETC qwantz (dinosaur comix) go fug yourself the burg cat and girl book of ratings married to the sea icanhascheezburger fire joe morgan fivethirtyeight.com READ NOW hospitality on parade WEIRD LOVE dead amusement pks craters! all content © 2002-2010 Jeremy Broomfield
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Thursday, June 19, 2003
I am not sick, despite last weekend's four-day campaign of bicoastal germ warfare, which took the soggy form of my mom and sister coughing up a cubic yard of pathogen-packed saliva in the confines of our mobile research facility (a late '90s Mercury Sable). Everyone at the wedding was sick, including the bride, whose feverish cast just made her look proverbially flushed, and I bet the NyQuil helped to dampen the pre-vow jitters. God, when I get really nervous, like backstage nervous or skydiving nervous, I always need to take a shit. What do nervous brides do in a situation like that? Because I know they're not hiking up that dress and straddling some filthy poo-hole.
So I'm not sick, but I am tired. Monday's 14-hour tour of Fox's The Northeast's Most Nerve-Janglingly Truck-Filled Interstate Highways flipped my neurons to some kind of amphetaminic alertness setting that took two days to wear off, so I didn't sleep much on Monday or Tuesday night (choosing instead to alphabetize my underpants again). I was also totally jazzed about buying sandwiches for my surrogate cousins, Isaac and Hannah, in Kennebunk. Have you ever met teenagers that were so cool that they seem like futuristic robot narcs sent back in time to infiltrate the in-crowd and go all Jump Street on their asses, but with lasers? No, I guess not. And Ike isn't a very good robonarc if he hands me three Vicodin and a featureless plastic bottle filled with smuggled Chinese moonshine within five minutes of greeting me under a deserted bridge at 3am. The fatigue of the road is amplified by an utterly paranoid sensation of unfulfilled responsibility, like a shit-hammer of duty smashing my skull. I constantly feel like I was supposed to mail something to somebody yesterday. I have started putting band-aids and inch-long strips of micropore tape on my body just for the hell of it. I fantasize about being dropped off in the middle of nowhere with only a carton of Camels and a ridiculous utility belt filled with my prescription drugs, to see if I could find my way home in one piece using only my ample charms. In this fantasy I introduce myself to toothless hicks as "the Professor," and they stare at me with muted reverence as I hunch over plates of scrambled eggs and guzzle funnels of coffee. I dream of living in a place with lots of plants, lots of space, and lots of cushions. But dreams of ideal living spaces always leave out the most crucial detail: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO ALL DAY TO KEEP FROM GOING COMPLETELY INSANE? 0 comments |
OTHER REVIEWS: Scrabble NEW! LATEST BOOK REVIEWS: The Game Moneyball One-Upsmanship Siddhartha You need the Fear Not Guide to Life. Buy it already. ($4) Now available! The Broomfield Variations CD ($10) or go to The UD Store
MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS Chan Marshall Rotem of the IDF Eleanor Friedberger Amy Goodman Bernardine Dohrn ('69) Maya Rudolph Joanna Newsom Imogen Heap Caroline Dhavernas Shana Rae Ray DISALLOWED FOREVER "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!" - "from whence" - "...the exception that proves the rule" - any use of the question "spit or swallow?" - the phrase "drop trou" - fake-o reviewer verbs: "penned" for wrote "helmed" for directed "lensed" for whatever - "expat" - the euphemism "passed away" - pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!" (see also: "grassy-ass!") PET PEEVES "confinscated" - trying children "as adults" - "drownded" - misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT. - tattoos in the Courier font - any use of Comic Sans |