An interesting song Okay. Tonight's Most Random of Entries: the Steely Dan song 'Pixeleen' from their album 'Everything Must Go.' (Lyrics)
The best thing about Steely Dan songs is the sense of knowing and at the same time being utterly confused as to whatever the heck they may be about. 'Pixeleen' seems to me to be the two-sided story of a typical video-game-style comic-book/anime superheroine. You know, like that cheerleader we have to save. To be specific, I always kinda picture the pink-haired chick from the Esurance adverts. On the one side, we have Abu and the miniglock; the adventure mixed with the typical teenage life. Paging Kim Possible.
And then in the chorus, we see the other end: Pixeleen's geeky, lonesome creator, the digital-age Pygmalion whose Galatea is enjoying a ravishing success. The tragedy, of course, is that while he created her, gave her a life, made her better, and has now succeeded in the art-aspect of such a creation -after all, 'screened at a festival in Utah' is about as successful as a fictional character with 'spectacular thigh' gets these days; our poor animator, writer, graphic novelist or what-have-you can never really interact with his dream girl. Because, you see, she isn't real. We know it from the first verse. But he doesn't...or if he does, he is not dealing with it well. A hauntingly elusive backing vocal from Carolyn Leonhart seems shockingly sultry and perfect against the soft desperation that is Donald Fagen's classically Steely Dan style... meaning that Pixeleen sometimes speaks to her creator. Poor sad, lonely artist. Sad, lonely crazy artist, that is, a little bit. But in a sad way we can feel sorry for.
That is the number one rule of Steely Dan, after all. The men are losers and the women are dangerous. Even when they're digital.
I say purrrr!
Current Mood: quixotic Current Music:Steely Dan, 'Everything Must Go'
State of the Jannie Address I have a very old truck, the one referenced in the drawing some posts ago. It is a year older than I am, being a 1985 model, and yet it still runs very well. My boyfriend put a lot of work into it and now I can drive about pretty much at will. This is a vast improvement. Rick Santorum has been ousted as a PA senator. He had made some horrible discriminatory comments, (reference for which I shall send you to the Rotten Library: link ) was frequently, and I suspect, accurately accused of not actually living in the state, and was generally not a nice person. He conceded the race Wednesday night -with his children crying behind him. Spare us the guilt-trips. I pity his kids, who now have to live in the empty, two-bedroom house Santorum hasn't visited in ages, and who will probably have to leave PA-paid cyberschool to go be teased in the public hells. Incidentally, I am strongly in favor of radical -and by radical I mean nothing less than calling in Dumbledore, Professor X and Yoda as consultants- reform in the public school system. There was a minor scandal (reported by Bloomberg, here: link) in which a little boy was reduced to tears by bullying from his principal after refusing to answer a standardized test question he found confusing. I found this terrible. Poor kid. My mother sent me home from election day with some of my favorite soda and a box of my favorite cereal, Frosted Shredded Wheat. This is good. She also found a nice sale on beads and has given me many of them to make things with. That shall be fun. I did well on a math test today. This has not happened often in my life. My pet cat, Alexei, was happy to see me Tuesday. He continues gray and mysterious, I still suspect him of being Russian spy, Katnikov, only now he weighs about twenty pounds. We had him fixed awhile ago. Boots is also most cuddly. Good cats. It is nearly bedtime and I am just as sleepy as I want to be. Life is, therefore, mostly good. Doubly so because I just made some cocoa. And I hope to take my truck to visit my boyfriend this weekend, if I get all of my homework done. College is grand; boyfriends and cocoa are grander. And tomorrow there may be bacon at breakfast. Yay!
Napster free-plays rock Is it bad to rock out to the few Meat Loaf songs one doesn't yet own in CD or MP3 form whilst doing Japanese homework? I think not. Badass and shibby is the new Napster that lets one play a song three times for free. Even if the sound quality is not great, it is nice to be able to check and see if one really wants a song. (the new Justin Timberlake, no. The eleven-minute power-ballad lustful guitarfest that IS Mr. Loaf's second Bat Out of Hell album's first single? Hells, yes; with leather pants!) Also, I have acquired my driver's license and first vehicle, the 1985 Nissan pickup referenced in the earlier drawing of my boyfriend and myself. Yes, it is 21 years old; but it does run nicely and gets me from A to B with a minimum of kerfuffle. I am considering what to get said boyfriend for the next two major present-ing holidays, (Christmas and his birthday,) considering he has so far given me computer, truck, and Various Other Choice Items, some of which he has handmade. I am making this year's Halloween costumes, but any thoughts of wtf else I could possibly find for such a man would be welcomed. (Except self wrapped in nothing but bow, have already thought of that. Ribbon costs somewhat prohibitive.)
How does she do that? News on the anime front. My semicousin (distant relative on the best friend side,) has just gone out and gotten a copy of the Hellsing OVA on DVD for me, apropos of nothing but 'Finals are a bear, hope this will cheer you up.' If I mentioned that I liked nuclear weapons, Faberge eggs from the Romanov dynasty, Stradivarius violins, 1959 Fender Stratocasters in mint condition, dragon eggs, live unicorns OR moderate Republicans, I have a sneaking feeling she'd send one via the US post. Amazing friend she is. Any ideas on something cool to send to her? Besides Pop Rocks, I mean.
So...I was looking through my email and found a survey from the GOP. Bunch of morons, to send it to me, the most liberal Republican ever to walk the earth. (I'm only registered Red because Reds control my district...my heart and brain are Blue.) Some highlights included...oh, no. I'm a wicked witch, after all. Here's the whole uncut shebang, loaded questions, empty jingoism and all.
Yep, they really ARE that dumb. In the 'please share any additional comments below' box, I typed the following: "Funny...I'm a Republican and I'm for everything you're against. I think Bush deserves to be impeached because he is a liar and a fool, I want that ridiculous vanity war over and I want the so-called moral majority to recognize the fact thay gay marriage doesn't have a flying fuck in hell to do with Christianity, morality, or them. I'm pro-choice. I'm liberal. And I'm an opinion leader in my community. Your little survey is now Joke of the Week here at college. Have a lovely day!" And then I thought about Orwell's '1984' again. I asked my boyfriend...are we really all alone in the room over the junk shop? Please...tell me we're not. I don't want to believe that Americans are really that stupid. I also don't want to have to leave America because the idiots have taken over and the Empire of Caesar Dubya is tottering...though I will, if it comes to it. And in the meantime, I think I shall organize a satirical protest of Bush's abstinence-only education crap. Girls of America! join the Junior Anti-Sex League! That, or a Lysistrata website: nobodyshagtheconservatives dot com. Stupid boys. They should know not to mess with me.
Poems. Soda. Shiny caps. So...been at the poetry again lately. A year ago, I dashed off a bit of grr-arrgh called 'Irish Hyphen Nothing' that was well-received, and it seems to me that this new one is the same character speaking. It's also becoming obvious that whoever this McNeville kid is, she's not me. She's like me, but she's not me...kind of like Larry the Cable Guy is to Dan Whitney (only without the backfired satire,) or Anita Liberty is to Suzanne Weber. Oh, well. Have some poem.
In unrelated news, has anyone seen the new red lids on Cokes? Apparently they'll give me presents for turning in the codes from the sodas I guzzle so liberally. It's something like mycokerewards dot com...spiffing! I do so like mindless promotions...you know you'll never get a really great prize, but it's still satisfying to get something back from a big company. Me, I should like a t-shirt or some free movie rentals. Nothing too wonderful, but still fascinatingly fun to go for. It's not like there's five special caps that might earn one a tour of the mysterious Coke factory... okay, my fantasy life needs help.
The scariest thing in the world, I think, is staring into something you’ve made and seeing your own reflection. Is it you, or your life; what you’d like it to be, or how others see you, or what? Whatever it is, it tends to make for a very weird feeling. That’s why I hardly ever draw much from my own life, a rule to which this story is an exception. It’s also why I don’t make stained-glass mirrors very often. Enjoy.
Kitten... I am at home for Christmas break. I went and visited my godson and best friend in Chicago for the first week of break, and then came home to many presents and much soda.
But there is better news!
A kitten is asleep on my foot!
Huzzah!
Cute little Alexei! He is Russian spy. Katnikov. Grr! Arrgh! He will drink from the sink like it is vodka and then meow while you are sleeping, lazy capitalists! The hammer and sickle of the purr-letariat will strike down exploiters of the working cats!
...Yeeeeah.
Did I mention there is an empty bottle here? Where did THAT come from?
Alignment: Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.
Race: Gnomes are also short, like dwarves, but much skinnier. They have no beards, and are very inclined towards technology, although they have been known to dabble in magic, too. They tend to be fun-loving and fond of jokes and humor. Some gnomes live underground, and some live in cities and villages. They are very tolerant of other races, and are generally well-liked, though occasionally considered frivolous.
Primary Class: Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.
Secondary Class: Thieves are the most roguish of the classes. They are sneaky and nimble-fingered, and have skills with traps and locks. While not all use these skills for burglary, that is a common occupation of this class.
Deity: Finder Wyvernspur is the Chaotic Neutral god of the cycle of life and the transformation of art, although he leans heavily towards Good. He is also known as the Nameless Bard. Followers of Finder believe that everything must change in order to grow and thrive. Their preferred weapon is the bastard sword.
Freakin' badass. You are Lady Macbeth: Ambitious, very strong-willed, and ever merciless to those who oppose you. You are some sort of mental dominatrix, you govern men's minds as if they were puppets.
Wow. Vive la France! Erin Ptah has finally done it. I was reduced to a veritable seizure at work. She has finally succeeded in being too funny. Apparently, France's line of defense against vampires is the Holy League, the Catholic organization which figured so prominently in the War of the Three Henries. Once again, the remarkable Miss Ptah has succeeded in educating us through entertainment. But no...it gets better. The Holy League's helicopter-flying, dogfighting vampire slayer is...oh, gods, it's simply too good. I won't spoil it. Go! Look! http://hellsing.comicgenesis.com/d/20051114.html
On a completely unrelated note, my siblings are in a school play this week. I have gotten two bottles of Vault, which is a new 'energy soda' from Coke, but which I think is really just modified Surge, and shall add bows to the tops. Wine may be the drink of artists, but caffiene is the drink of the theatre. Since there have been problems in the past with pilferage backstage, I shall also add tags: 'To Brendan/Emily McNeville, with finest compliments, the Helsingborg Arts Council Amateur Theatre Group.'
And yes, they will get that joke. After all, they are my siblings.
Stupid girls. I think there are some people who exist, not only because it is illegal to kill them, but because the benevolent deities have decided I am good and deserve nice toys. Several of said people dwell in the dorms near me. Now, sundry of these local idiots are possessed of a copious and powerful stereo system, as well as the top five most annoying songs. They have succeeded in annoying me into the ninth circle of hell for the preceding week. I have openly discussed homicide with my dear roommate, who is just as offended by these noisy fools as I. And then, quite suddenly, one of them appears in my room. "Uh...Jan...Jana..." "Jan will do." I would rather permit colloquiality than let this wenchkitten mangle my given name further. "What's up?" "I...have this paper. It was supposed to be for University 101, but I have English 101 too, and I was making it longer and..." "Ah, the multiple-discipline assignment, a grand academic tradition! I wrote one this year on the Queen of Harlots," I observed grandly. She gave the usual 'is that a second head?' glance, and then I shrugged. "So, what needs done?" "I...it's a history paper." "Oh, good. What period?" "Well...university history." "Oh." "So...who-all went here?" "Went here?" "Who were some famous WVU alumni?" My folks, I thought. My mother is famous...or should be...she had a hand in the great Handling of the CAC in 1981. But college pranks shouldn't be history. Or should they? "Oh, loads of people. Harriet Eliza Lyon, she was the first woman, and Thomas Bennett, he was a conscientious objector to war, Jim Braxton was a football player, Charles Frederick Tucker Brooke was the first WVU Rhodes scholar..." "Besides the Towers ones." Yes, true. The Towers Ones are four alumni who, by virtue of being relatively famous and definitely dead, have got substandard industrial housing called after them. Personally, I think dear old Harriet Eliza would have liked a nice library, as opposed to a Tower and a late-night convenience store/deli. There again, I'd like a late-night convenience store/deli named after me in the event I become relatively famous and definitely dead. Call it McNeville's and serve bottomless sodas for $1.25. Anyway. "Well...the president of the university was a Rhodes scholar..." Blithely, I recited some other brain-numbing facts from my own University 101 days. "And the first woman basketball player to dunk a ball during a college game went here...and Otto Titzling...and Don Knotts..." Just slipped him in there. "Who's Otto Titzling?" "He's said to have been the real inventor of the bra. And Don Knotts was a TV star in the sixties and seventies..." "The bra?" "Yeah. There's some stuff on the internet...poems and such. I'd look into it. Might want to stick to Don Knotts, though, professors are fond of him." She left. She returned. "I found a whole bunch of stuff on Don Knotts, and something about Harriet Lyon, and the Otto Titzling song. It's pretty funny. Why don't we have Otto Titzling Day?" "Because the Feminist Equality Movement protested at it in the sixties," I replied coolly. "Or something." Let this be a lesson unto all: if you are noisy and offend the people in the corner room when they are studying, and then expect them to vomit up a paper for you with no notice or visible compensation -double-check what they tell you against the Bette Midler Lyrics Site. Who knows? Maybe people are that stupid.
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jan_mcneville's journal
quixotic
sleepy
