Shameholio!

February 23, Once Removed

2007-02-25T17:03:00.000-08:00

In the shuffle of the hagiography of Shortbus, this cry for ~~attention~~ help from La Deuxieme was neglected:

"Ahh! I'm going mental!"

Hooray! Not that anyone cares, though.

February 23

2007-02-23T15:44:00.000-08:00

Blessed be the Shortbus!

"Last night I dreamed of Bolero! And I had a most supreme time."

A monumental week of epic proportions for Shortbus-- here's the deal:

On the 17th, she had her Confirmation, which was rather nice, because now her full initials technically could read C.A.P.O., which made her think of herself as a mafia boss. But as with most kids who receive that, the cross on her forehead from the Archbishop gave her an angry, red blemish.

On the 18th, some relatives came to visit, some of whom took pictures of themselves with her brother's tuba, who then told everyone to fuck off and stop bothering him; but he was 12, so he could somewhat get away with it.

On the 19th, in the afternoon, she went back to the movies to go see this for the fifth time. Heh.

On the 20th, she went to Mass, and bruised her left thumbnail on the pew when she got up to file out for Communion. Later that afternoon, sitting around watching this on television (except from CBS), her father said, "You know, I should take your mother out dancing." The zit had started to go away, but her brain was now inflamed:

This song instantly now made sense;

But her dad, like, totally dug it, too: "And I can't stand that figure skating crap." Oh, no! Ewwwwww...

Eh, whatever. Certainly wasn't going to stop Shortbus from digging through the recycling bin in the garage for the previous week's worth of newspapers, scavenge around for a few sentences to fill in the holes and cut out some pictures to secretly paste in the secondary volume she kept simultaneously (a largely visual addendum), and then demand that someone drive her to the library the next day so she could go disorganize the microfiche collection from February 1984.

On the 21st, after school, Shortbus got a ride to the library and found the jackpot! in the card catalog; so she checked it out and shoved it under her jacket before she went back outside to meet her mother. Later that night, she caught this on television (again, but from CBS), then was all like, "That's bullshit*," and went to bed.

On the 22nd, she took a standardized test at school, making sure to finish early so she could take a nap. Then later that night, after everyone else went to sleep, she fast-forwarded through the video she checked out from the library, and ta-da! Then she went to sleep. Good times**.

* Oh, they totally quoted themselves. But whatever.
**An entire wormhole now could open up just about the awesomeness of watching ice dancing on television-- really, it still brings the Lizzes among the Tina Sparkles with the tacky costumes, shitty music, and batshit craziness; but this instance is when and how I first developed a soft-spot for a sport that essentially is a casino floor-show that got stranded at a hockey rink.

Mid-February

2007-02-16T20:14:00.000-08:00

February appears to be a tricky month for La Deuxieme, 3.0, and 4-Square... hell, Shortbus doesn't even wander back in until the 23rd (she's still at the movies). Anyway, when they do get around to scribbling stuff down, they've all done a Freaky Friday on themselves:
Here's 3.0 getting all whiny and annoying, closing out like a Successories poster:

"Sometimes I hold the ideal that things will fall into place... I don't think that I must feel responsible for inadvertently being torn in three different directions. Maybe someone will understand. Or perhaps, then again, maybe they won't. Sometimes people become who they are by accident, and it turns out for the better."

But then 4-Square says something that is kinda cool. I mean, I'd still clown her and all, because it's Lifetime-cheesy, but it's a step-up from usual looseleaf infatu-drivel:

"Sad sad sad that it's just looking across the room, thinking about the big hands with the fingers that should play a piano... You can break my slither into a run."

But L.D. totally wins. For real:

"I do not feel compelled to be all haughty when I write now. If you don't like it, then fuck off. I feel cheap and airy and want to talk about movie stars."

And that's The Word.

February 1

2007-02-01T18:39:00.000-08:00

1.0:

"If my dad tells me to clean out that toilet again, well, I will kill him."

WHOA! Slow down, Shortbus. (Actually, the next time 1.0 pops up, toward the end of this month, there's an amusing [in a very good way] backstory to her old man underpinning that later entry.)

La Deuxieme elucidates further on the starter loaf to her sunny disposition:

"Other feelings are stupid and petty, but may affect me anyway, if they ferment sourly."

Tasty.

Meanwhile, 4.0 tries to half-assedly channel a quasi-inversion of the most awesome TV movie ever wherein Helen Hunt gets high on PCP and jumps out a window (and then Tina from Mommie Dearest is all, like, "OMG! U kids r pwned by druqks!"):

"What is all this jumping ship?
What is all this bailing out?
So now we're all hiding in the hedges
(Better than leaping off the ledges).
Because a faulty breeze filtered in,
Is that the cause of all this din?"

Uh, you probably cut the 'faulty breeze,' ergo, go light a match. Oh, and then go kill yourself.

Week of January 21

2007-01-23T18:13:00.000-08:00

Some handy dietary tips from L.D.:

"I think aspirin does irritate the stomach lining, that or Long John Silver's fish planks. A gallon of Coca-Cola might do the trick, too."

And some unmotivational speaking:

"Sometimes I just dream up these absolutely ludicrous fantasies, and sometimes I have these great swelling doubts about myself that are very hard to eradicate."

Eradicator!

Meanwhile, like a case of shingles, 3.0. has a developed a crush. Again. On the same boy:

"La-la-la-la-la-la, I can't hear you, obsessive little bug, irksome little virus that was wont to leave until a very long time had passed! It was painful the first time around, God, it was awful... We are satisfied with dreaming droll drivel scribble-scrabble until one day we are rudely awakened and become somewhat blue...It's okay to be dumb for a while!"

And dumbass 4.0 tries to be all cryptic, and no one cares:

"I smell some rigged shit."

So it's back to cloying, again:

"*La-dee-da-dee-da*
Oooooooooooooo, I just absolutely love conversation hearts.
You can get trippy really quick off a little handful."

No, you can't. Moron.

January 15 & 16

2007-01-16T16:50:00.000-08:00

A pair of miserable, po-faced L.D. musings:

"Today I felt sad knowing that my whole life is a never ending dullishly hellishly drawn out Sunday drive. It is rottenly pitiful. I feel so splendidly free for some reason, as if my most inner core has been cleaned, with the misses of a few spots."

Jesus H. Christ. As if from the deathbed of a tubercular fifty-something spinster, circa 1923.

Ah, but wait: as usual, it gets more incoherent. Who the fuck are these people?

"Shipbuilding. We sat on the morningside coast, casting our vessels of hope, Moira made hers out of quiet, Liam of rag tags and soaps, Aidan toiled with courage and fear, Lise with needles and threads, and I with my dark wilting head."

Fantastic. A tubercular fifty-something spinster aunt, circa 1923, who lives in some shit Aran Islands stone hut. With a German exchange student.

Hey, but then we're always off to somewhere new, it seems:

"I should think that I like the Southern Hemisphere."

And again the plot goes missing:

"I think that I might have rediscovered that last trace of childhood within me. Those were very pure reckonings. The mind was so clean in what is going to do today for there were no fears or worries or silly inconsistencies with the desired routine. It is like finding this funny little treasure hidden among the rubble of conventionalism. It is such an odd, fulfilling sensation."

Gawd.

January 11

2007-01-11T18:21:00.000-08:00

1.0:

"How dare anyone betwixt their brightness towards one another!"

HAHAHA! 1.0 obviously has gone to the movies to see Shadowlands. And is mad at God. Brilliant.

Meanwhile, La Deuxieme is getting all low-grade synaesthetic:

"G makes it springtime, and D makes it Christmas, any time of the year that I want. A-flat minor is horrible; I refuse to work with it. E is summer. B is the beginning of autumn. E- and B-flat are the confused beginnings of winter. Nevermind that, though. Dreams are simply lovely if we fall into the right ones, the ones we don't want to depart from."

Goddammit, L.D! Getting all Hallmark-card-and-shit.

January 10

2007-01-10T18:16:00.000-08:00

La Deuxieme:

"Thirty-three is a nice age. Fourteen is wretchedly horrible to commence."

3.0:

"And, alas, she starts anew. She stakes the claim as the fresh flower that has emerged with bad gastrointestinal gas. And this is all. Au revoir."

Straight-up inhalant abuse. Obvs.

January 8

2007-01-08T15:42:00.000-08:00

And now for another bong hit from La Deuxieme. You know that bitch totally wishes she wore a beret, had a couple of weekly riding lessons with the Sweet Lady H, and that it were 1959 in the Village. I'm not even going to pretend to understand this drivel; it's all very much a la stupendously awful English-as-a-second-language Beat poetry:

"Talking about nonsense is second nature."

Snaps.

"If everything was literal, all would cave in and collapse the walls of the funhouse.
Now that is either a good or a bad action, , depending on the point of view from which the issue is approached.
I think it vile, which may be totally different from what you think.
Opaqueness is necessary, but is it really deserving of complete and concrete recognition?"

Huh?

"Should his sister Lucidity have a chance to shriek loudly?"

I guess so...wait, who?

"I think so.
See, if everything was consisted of the makings of a dense egghead, then the country's suicide rate could quite equal that of Denmark's."

Yeah, I don't know where you got that from, but whatever.

"If Luci received the chance to dance in the light for a bit, then, well, maybe a reflection of the offbeater side of Amsterdam might be projected fancifully."

As ridiculously incoherent as that is, I think it's a reference to Christiania.

"In any case, one should have fun with oneself and do with what the stumble onto and with whomever they just might stumble onto with.
However, some are destined to be the eternal loner, and that is fine as well.
People tend to get their greatest jollies when they're all by their exquisite lonesome.
It is funny, how when people believe that they've sewn it all up only to find that they've become much more unravelled, as a parting note."

Groovy. And I'm not going to play, whatever it is 4.0 has down for today can't even begin to compete with this.

January 7

2007-01-07T18:06:00.000-08:00

1.0 today reassuringly behaves as a thirteen-year-old:

"My, what a day I had. I read the new issue of Seventeen. My lovescope said I was sweating sex-appeal. Hah! Whatta joke!"

2.0, age 912, would like to share this nugget of wisdom with everyone:

"I laugh in the wide, open mouth of shame, against all the hideous items I tabulated against me and what I will become."

WTF?

January 6

2007-01-06T18:43:00.000-08:00

Occasionally, you’d be forgiven for mistaking that an ersatz archangel Gabriel had visited 1.0 one Thursday afternoon during Reading class:

“My friend, I have come to tell you about the day as I viewed it. I felt a swelling inside. Sort of like when you have to pee really bad, but not that severe.”

Meanwhile, 2.0 is still an 83-year-old man:

“I also become very annoyed when people whine like dogs. Whining is an intolerable act. Sometimes I completely zone out. Sometimes I completely zone out and then seem to zone in to another force and commence pretending that I am something else. Today I thought I was the Bic man symbol, and I wondered if anyone ever made rollicking fun of his appearance, for he hasn’t a face, just a monstrous shiny ball placed atop his body.”

And here’s how 3.0 spent the day at school:

“I sat and I colored pictures of bears spewing fire from their mouths and talking about how awesome The X-Files are when I was supposed to be doing some math problems. At least it’s better than falling asleep, which I did when I had to read ‘Bartleby the Scrivener,’ the most boring short story next to ‘The Fall of the House of Usher,’ which everybody hails as the best in the business. I think it’s full of ambiguous crap. I like ‘Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment.’”

3.0 is a bit like a cross between Vicky Pollard and Liberty from Degrassi. Except minus the teenage pregnancies. Also, they now put pictures of bears spewing fire from their mouths on wine bottles.

And 4.0 has shut-the-fuck-up today! Hooray!

January 5

2007-01-05T19:27:00.000-08:00

1.0 taps the mic, clears throat…

“The television set”

Ah, another poem.

“I flip the dial in no search of comfort
I just want to see faces of the people 12x12”

Because 1.0 is the resultant of a cross between Chance the Gardner and Meatwad. 1.0 even dug this gnarly television set out of the trash a few days ago; the on/off button was broken, so the only way to turn the TV on and off was to roll up a towel and snap it on the top of the TV. The antenna didn’t work very well, either, so you had to stick big wads to tinfoil on the ends. This went on for several years, until the power cord sparked and sort of caught on fire for, like, five seconds.

Meanwhile, someone’s dunked 2.0 in the bitch-tank:

“I know many people who are rather dense.”

Hey, like yourself. Imagine that.

“Sometimes I just wish of bashing a bunch of heads in with a tightly clenched fist.”

Heh. You wish.

“Lists are stupid. They do not attempt to answer questions of any sort nor do they try making a statement.”

Ugh, *yawn*.

“Infatuation is boring. I’ve had two types of bouts with that: 1. real, everyday people and 2. film.”

ZZZZzzzzz...

“It’s very boring because it is a fleeting sense of self worth and security. When we fall off, we feel awfully discontent with how we’ve spent our time, piddling months, even years away to an absolutely worthless cause.”

And to round out channeling an anti-social septuagenarian:

“A book I read should soon be shown in a fifty-feet version and another attempt at greatness is hoped to be achieved.”

Although, again, I’d rather hang out with 2.0 than 4.0:

“Oh, how I hate being tied down and strung back. It’s like someone or something has grabbed hold of my arms and hog-tied them or put me in a strait jacket. I want to punch and kick and scream. I hate it. My head is racing all over the place, but no one is catching on. I’m afraid I’m sputtering out at the same time, too. Just when I should be getting started.”

They obviously forgot to tape shut your mouth, too, dear.

January 2

2007-01-02T17:21:00.000-08:00

Wherein we now hear from 3.0:

“Hey, ho, hum! I’m number one!”

Caveat?

“Well, no, not really, but it’s catchy.”

Ah, bless. 4.0, on the other hand, still needs a vicious beat-down—with a boot and a shoe:

“Yeah, I think I’ll make some tea
Help force myself to learn
And then wake up at ten
To read about some ferns
Or other living organisms
And their tax-on-ah-meeeee!
Because when you get down to it
(And there’s really not much to it)
It’s all
Sim-plee
Lost
On
Me.”

Seriously. That’s almost as bad as yesterday’s.

January 1

2007-01-01T19:20:00.000-08:00

1.0 has something to say:

"Oh, hello again."

Thrilling.

"Anyway, I’m back. That reminds me of this song by Tiffany. It kept talking about how her career was back on track and that she was here to stay. Yeah, right!"

Well, predictably cheap shot, 1.0, but what is it that distinguishes you?

“I think that I have matured, sort of like 10,000 Maniacs.”

Christ.

“Their first few albums sort of sucked but by the time of In My Tribe they had distinguished themselves as a band that the stupid people who listen to Top 40 stations wouldn’t be able to decipher. Hah, hah, hah!”

Yeah, except not. But nice try. In any event, 1.0 is far more entertaining than 2.0:

“Dull. That is what it is. There are assholes shooting off Roman candles and firecrackers and whatever else they can stick a fuse in and everybody is so damn happy merry. I am bored with all of this.”

Gawd, cheer up and Choose Life, 2.0!

3.0 doesn’t have anything to contribute for today, but 4.0 couldn’t leave well enough alone and has written… a pop song:

“‘Great Romance’ [E flat]

Oh, no.

“He’s gonna be your great romance
That boy is (REFRAIN)

Hee.

“Looking backward
Out through time
In the muggy, muggy spring
When you were very much mine
Reading the newspaper backward
And taking lots of showers
And wasting all the hours
And looking at the flowers
And reading books ‘til two
Now I don’t know what to do
Will you help me make it through?
It can just be me and you
Out here, out there
Out in the cold Dakota air
Where life so very fair
All just withers a-way
(Hey…)
(REFRAIN)------[fade out]”

Nul points!