UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
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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 
Hosted by: HostRocket.Com Comments by: YACCS PRAISE & REVIEWS "[UD] is a genius." --Christian Oates "[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not." --Tricia Howey MOTTO egeo huic vigorum MY WRESTLING NAME Titan Gently MY PUNK NAME Razor Ection 
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Thursday, January 08, 2004
I searched my archives to see how many times I've blogged the word "insomnia," and after vomiting at the sight of the hideously formatted search results page, I counted eight hits. Bend over for number nine, bitches. Because this whole week, it's been bad. At 2am, when I should have the lights out and a puddle of Tums-flecked drool on my pillow, I've sat up with my book, stared mistrustfully at the clock, like: it's not really 2am, you lying pile of unpredictable transistors. And my body is like: seven hours of sleep is waaay to much, UD; go for the lean six and finish that chapter! So then I finish the chapter, and the next, and I'm all riled up because I've been plowing through John Le Carré spy novels at the rate of 2.5 a week, and goddamn if those spies don't have some exciting experiences!
In other news, I am a spy. I have been behaving in a very clandestine manner since I started reading this crap. I have been watching you, though I have left no trace you could find. Look, I'm suggestible, and immersion in one author's worldview for a month at a time has scary results, and I always read books in retarded author clots. So when I read all of Raymond Chandler's books, I thought I liked whiskey, which I hate. When I read Thomas Pynchon I though I was the smartest person on the planet, and according to everyone but me this impression has yet to fade. When I read David Foster Wallace I thought I liked tennis, which is only humanly possible during Grand Slam women's finals. When I read Elmore Leonard, I thought I had been to prison, or at least would survive longer than twenty minutes in a prison, which is just utterly, laughably bogus, except you shouldn't laugh at my first-day shivving. Have you ever fantasized about what you'd do on your first day of prison to establish dominance? Have you ever fantasized about the heroics you would perform if you were to get mugged, all steely stare and arm-twisties? These are the things that keep me awake at night when I should be sleeping. Also fantasies of running spy networks in cold war Germany, though that's a relatively new one, thanks, John. I read books so that I will never be left alone with my thoughts, because my thoughts alternately horrify, confuse, or bore me. I am fanatic enough about this that when I went for a smoke break earlier, I thought I might finish my book, so I brought another book with me. Sure enough, I finished Smiley's People halfway through my cigarette, and A.D.Dressed my attention directly to The Rebel Angels, which of course is the beginning of a horse-chokingly huge trilogy. I HATE MY THOUGHTS! GIVE ME MORE BOOKS. I have no focus, and you will suffer for my sleep. Making dinner plans with a friend I nixed Thai food because I like coconut and peanuts on my ice cream, not my meat. Remember that line, friends, and you will never have to eat Thai food again for the laughter that surrounds you. Unless you are a girl, in which case you are required by law to love love love it, and proselytize. But also remember this charming anecdote from yesteryear: one time this girl, see, I asked her if she wanted Thai food. She thought for a moment, then asked astutely: "is Taiwan part of China? Or different?" And I stared at her for a few seconds before responding, as innocently as possible, that "It's a separate country, but most of Taiwan's population is ethnically Chinese." She seemed satisfied with the answer, so I ate her brains, and they were light and tart, like lemongrass soup. 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 |