UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu  feed it up!
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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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Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Being back at work is difficult. I feel like the soles of my shoes are coated with treacle and my ass filled with buckshot. My head lolls uncontrollably to either side, refusing to stay upright, and I barely have the energy to move my typin' sticks (fingers) without creating errors at a ratio of 2:1 versus real words. Did that last bit even make sense? I did, however, have the energy to download the Walkmen's entire album.
But someone told me today that I made them LOL with my last post, which made me LOL in return, and then my boss reminded me that I was no longer on vacation, and that, here in New York, endlessly cyclical hysterical cackling is usually confined to the subway system, and was inappropriate for the workplace. I tried to explain the ironic nature of the laughter, but she wasn't having any. I wiped the drool from my chin and started to LTM. But I was inspired, sort of, to stretch the blogging muscles. To scrape the rust off the undercarriage. To grind my coffee beans for espresso, if you catch my drift. I'm quitting smoking. Whoa! There, I said it. After thirteen years of a pack-a-day habit, I'm through with it. For the last few months my cigarettes have been tasting like ass, and I get no pleasure from them at all. I get out of breath if I imagine a staircase, and my lungs just seem pissed off. At home, I only smoke in my room, because the new roommates are nonsmokers and would prefer the house not smell utterly of my pathetic addiction. I've been smoking because it's expected of me for too long, and isn't that revolting? Here's an illustrative anecdote, though: Several years ago, at the house of a friend we'll call Felter, I was talking excitedly about some bullshit, and I cracked a window and started smoking. She went to the kitchen for a makeshift ashtray, and for the rest of the evening, I smoked and we talked. Eventually I went home. The next evening, her roommate Brig sat at the same table and lit up a smoke. He was a smoker, see. But the Felter freaked out. "Um, What are you doing, Brig?" asked Felter. "What do you mean?" Brig said, all innocent. "You know there's no smoking in the house." "Oh really? Yesterday Jeremy sat at this very table, smoking like a chimney, and you didn't stop him," said Brig, reasonably. "Brig," said Felter, "that's Jeremy Broomfield." Which at the time I thought was pretty righteous, and very funny. But the implications may have been disturbing. Was she saying that I was a highly honored guest and that nothing would be denied me, in the best traditions of hospitality? Maybe. But it's far more likely that she was saying I was a hopeless, intractable addict, and that any attempts to curtail my indoor smoking would be met with scorn, indifference, or total incomprehension, so it wasn't even worth trying. If you want to hang with UD, you gotta smell the smoke. Well, I got a prescription for Zyban today. My shrink has this annoying thing where he has slowly morphed himself into my pyschopharmacologist, and my appointments have shrunk from the typically paltry 50 minutes to a cool quarter hour. But I've got my scripts, friends, and if you want to share a cigarette with me, you've got one more week. After that, don't tempt me. Please. I just want to breathe again. Stupid California. I hate what you do to me. 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 |