O'Halloran, You Mother Fucker: How Ebay Killed Me (yes i'm a hypochondriac)

i went through a brief interest in ebay about a month ago. typically i'd browse around until i was reminded of something that i'd like to have, then i search that and hone it down to a specific thing. then i'd lurk around until that thing would come up for auction (this happened surprisingly often). then i'd watch the item, go to bid on it last minute, get in a bidding war and eventually lose. actually, of all the things i bidded on, i only won one. the item that i won was a pair of WW1 military spats. i was hoping to find a pair to wear and they looked pretty okay in the pictures. i thought they were at steal at $5.00 and was excited to receive them. sadly, when they finally arrived at my house i opened the package to discover the 2 dirtiest things i've ever seen in my life. they were caked in mud and black stuff and god knows what else. they were so dirty that they were completely stiff. the dirt freaked me out so much i didn't even want to touch them. and lets get this straight, usually things like that don't phase me. i've been doing the "used" thing forever (jesus, i know, i can't stop posting about that, it's compulsive) other people's things/germs do not usually bother me, but this shit was next level. not only was it dirt, it was war dirt from a time before penicillin or lysol*. so at first the war dirt is making me think about the person who owed them a little bit more than i'd like to, like i kind of don't want to wash them because it seems disrespectful. then after letting them sit around for a few weeks i'm like "well fuck that, i paid my $5 plus shipping and handling, i'm going to wash them spats and i'm gonna wear 'em- yes! as a tribute to the men who wore them before me. oh, i didn't mention that the name of the original owner is stenciled on the inside of these things AND there is some other person's name hand written over top of the stencil. so, as i'm running soap and hot water over these spats i'm thinking "who was V.P O' Halloran? what was he like? what was his rank? did he survive? i imagine that he didn't since his spats found their way to G.A. Fern's calves. what did he die from? what about G.A. Fern? did he survive? is there mustard gas on these things? where have they been? uhhh, is there blood on these things?" then i look at the water and it is this gnarly brown color, like baby diarrhea or something and i'm thinking " wait, shit, what if dude died from some disease he caught in the trenches? is there some sort of dormant strain of fucking cholera or anthrax on these things? for real, they are real fucking foul and they belonged to a guy who may very well have been wearing them when he died. why am i heating them up? oh shit oh shit, i'm giving myself Got damn anthrax." now they are in my house and i don't know what to do with the filthy things [hot soapy water did nothing to combat (not pun intended) the grime by the way] now i'm coughing and disinfecting everything and blowing nose like crazy and getting a headache just thinking about (because i'm a totally irrations psycho sometimes). so yeah, if i die of anthrax i'll probably make national news, so look out! at least i won't have to worry about having a bad time at parties anymore.**


*upon further google-investigation... lysol has in fact been around since the early 20th century, but i'm having a disturbingly difficult time finding out when it was invented and by whom. i had a similar experience once when attempting to figure out who invented the television. isn't it strange that the inventor of the television is not a house hold name and yet everyone knows that Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin? i've never even seen a cotton gin, i have a vague idea of what it does, i think it separates seeds from cotton or something, but that it. i mean, come on! so there is a very disturbing story about RCA and a farmer named philo pharnsworth to go along with the invention of the gizmo that destroyed free thinking. i'm fairly certain that that story is why history glazed over this memorable moment. in fact, pharnsworth himself was a decent guy who came to denounced the machine and claimed to never watched it. he said he had never dreamed that it could be used for such evil. so lysol, what a mystery. it just has to be something sinister. ew though, speaking of sinister, this lysol investigation led me to many-a-article about how it was once advertised as a feminine hygiene product and a (ineffective) method of birth control... and people wonder what causes cancer. ga-ross.

a shitty pillow book

things i like:
my cat, clean sheets, fresh air, sage green (sometimes with deep burgundy), spats, dancing, fancy wall paper, birch forests, moss, tattered lace, other people's dogs, breezes, old glass bottles, whiskey and ginger ale, weed and brandy, the first three makeouts, bermuda, riding in cars (rides of all manner), satisfying itches, solitary bike rides, starry nights, open water, sneezing, familiar smells that trigger lost memories, crushes, tweener seasons, special underwear, art worlds, prince's voice, prince's everything else, raw oysters, raw steak, morning sex, 'this american life', house sitting, zombie movies, driving gloves, old boots, appalachia, documentaries, day trips, pleated skirts in March, people watching, paté, trains, soft leather, pachysandra, ivy covered stone constructions, aimless walking, jack-in-the-pulpits, cantering, sucking on graham crackers,

things i dislike:
doing taxes, hummer limos, thugs, being a bride's maid, chunky peanut butter, wet bread, processed cheese-y product, philadelphia, noisy transit busses, mcmansions, driving cars (especially next to trucks), t.v. news, sarah jessica parker, humidity, smarmy men, centipedes, disaster movies, fame whores, the 21st century so far, shows about how rich people live, napoleon dynamite, killing house plants, being a fool (perceived or actual), char, jim beame, thongs, the impending apocalypse, unseasonable weather, unfinished puzzles, ruts, cool,

things i am addicted to:
coffee, message boards, television, alcohol, myspace, chubby hubby, smoking, delivery, digging through thrift stores, plucking my eyebrows, msg, pocky, asian gummy candy, goldfish crackers, baby powder, mascara, cool boys, late night, scratching my skull, rotisserie chicken, artichokes, oranges in winter, skin care products, bargains, over sized sunglasses

things i am reluctant to do:
put away laundry, get my car repaired, go to bed, wake up, break up, brush my hair, schedule anything, pick a path, meet with strangers, self promote, buy myself nice things, admit truths,

words that i like to hear/say:
malaise, gloss, ginger, squeegee, caramel (not carmel), polished, elegance, loquacious, opals, stymied, succotash, pupa, chrysalis, bergamot, tundra, pachysandra

words that i like the meaning of: tänapäeva, pretentiousness, litost, compunction, kunst, philistine,

artists whom i like: nina simone, ingmar bergman, gerhart richter, bach, marcel dzama, albrecht dürer, tim hawkinson, jan van eyck, henry darger, bill callahan, egon schiele, dave barker, andreas gursky (sometimes), werner herzog, robert geller, david blaine (i don't know why), glenn gould, sonny terry, ben woodward,

a death of sorts

yeah. i ended up drinking more last night (see previous 2 posts- before and after), but it was separate from the lunch beer. the lunch beer was singular and fine, then the subsequent beers came much later in the evening. a friend came over and we drank a little and dicked around on the internet like antisocial weirdos and then went out to some awful dj night. i got to the bar, had one drink, got insanely depressed because i knew i'd have to get completely wasted and make an ass of myself if i wanted to have a good time. then i started feeling sorry for everyone else there because i figured they were probably in the same predicament as me, whether they knew it or not. i got all choked up which is totally out of character for me and i decided that i had to get out of there. i rode my bike half way home and started bawling. this is two weekends in a row that i've done that, which is strange because i've been more stable than usual lately. i don't think about death as much and i don't think i've got a billion diseases. maybe the stability has given me clarity and the clarity is what's making me cry. it makes sense. so anyway, i spoke with my friend today and she said that she had the exact same experience, she had one drink, had a wave of emptiness wash over her and left. strange, right? maybe not strange at all. i have to go pin up the hole in the ass of my jeans before i go out (not to a dj night). maybe i'll grace myself with another drunken entry later on.

wouldn't you like to get away?

oh man. it's 2pm and i'm alone at work and there's a ton of beer in the fridge. i am really tempted to drink one, but i'm afraid that one will turn into 4 and 4 will turn into me getting giddy and leaving early to call someone to meet me at a bar and then, of course, things will turn fuzzy and fuzzy will go as far as fate will take it. it happens. i keep teetering on the edge this moral dilemma. am i a functioning alcoholic, or am i an urban 20 something who has no real responsibilities? alcoholic? slacker? alcoholic? fun girl? pretty much the answer to this question hems on a glass-half-full/glass-half-empty perspective of the same situation. i don't know if picking either side is actually going to change anything. there is a possibility that it will, but i know me and my habits and the possibility is slight. besides, you'd think that saying "yeah, i'm an alcoholic" would be the one to have the positive effect, but if full dedication ot either attitude did change the way i'm living now, i bet it would be the opposite case. i bet i'd go "i'm an alcoholic, thems the breaks, at least i'm good at something. now, give me another." then i'd just settle into a lifetime of lushery. like if i'm an alcoholic i'm a victim and i can't help myself, but if i'm an aging bar girl, well that's just pathetic and embarrassing. ahhh who knows.

so, with that in mind am going to get a slice of pizza and drink a beer with it. delicious. i will also refrain from drinking any other beers just to prove that i am neither alcoholic nor fun... just a terrible employee.

cheers

and i thought BS was bullshit

one last thing. as i was brushing my teeth i was thinking more about fake people (i party a lot, so believe me, i know a lot of fake people and i think about them often) and then suddenly, into my head popped this flyer that my old roommate made for a new year's party we once threw. she called the party "A Century of Fakers" which i knew she ripped off from somewhere, but didn't know where. i figured it was some punk thing, but i just googled it turns out that it's a god damn belle and sebastian song*. anyway, back when i was brushing my teeth, before i knew it was belle and sebastian, i was wondering about fakers, then centuries, then ages. i was thinking about how everyday life seems to be changing so quickly. like next year the way people dress will be totally different. it's like "psh that color jeans is so 2 weeks ago" and i'm using very little hyperbole here... TWO WEEKS AGO! then i was wondering what could have changed? ages have always lasted ages. why would they suddenly stop doing that? (well, globalization, but ignore that and think about my rant.) i don't think they would. it's not natural. so, after giving it very little more thought, i came up with this: i imagine that, for example, during the 'age of enlightenment' the people living then didn't realize that of all the things they were doing with themselves it was going to be the general societal push towards enlightenment, be it because of universal consciousness or a happenstance which created the perfect environment to cultivate such norms, that was going be their mark in history. they probably didn't know what the fuck was going on, or what their society was about. you know the thing about not being able to read something that's written on your palm when your hand is pressed up against your nose? they were living that, everyone lives that. so a much larger than average populus of people now strive for the most current style and to be edgy and to out do everything everyone else is working on because that's how we do now, right? and that's what's making things change so quickly, right? but what if things only seem to change to us because we're in the trenches. what if mother fucking belle and sebastian are right and the one salient, unwavering quality of the times we are now living in is not the progress that everyone is trying to show off, but fakeness that is driving them to feel the need to show off at all?

i should have gone to bed.



*they annoy me severely.

johnny whimsy's full of *it* and other news

so, i was out tonight watching yet another movie with some friends and colleagues. i would have rather watched the movie at home. it was arty, french, from the 60's- like that. totally inappropriate for a movie party unless one is trying to be showy. hmmm. i liked the movie, i'd like to watch it a few more times, but i probably never will. and so what if i don't? i don't think having some film cause me to have some "idea" about society or politics or the nature of man is going to change my life. it's not like it's my thought, it's the film maker's. i'll go, "oh yeah, it's about weasels and the bagging oxy-jam cavern pants of nuprin et sanskrit. and, like the way we goggle dome to beat our frozen armchairs." and if i were a bolder person i'd say all this out loud so that everyone else would know that *hey man, i got it* and since i'm not bold i'll just think it to myself and be hesitantly smug. essentially though, i'll walk away from that movie the exact same person i was when i walked in. but hey, that's just me. i mean, yes yes *art has the power to chaaange* [yeah, i don't know how to make letters italic, or in italic (i also don't know the correct terminology for slanty fonts) and this is going to fuck up my footnote system, i should look into learning html for this, or whatever *that* shit's called] i've heard it, i understand it, it does not apply to me. sorry johnny whimsy. maybe one day. probably not.

in other news, my cat keeps making this noise, it's kind of like ripping open a bag of potato chips, but it's not his sneeze. i don't want to be "blog about my cat" person, but he just made the noise right now and it totally broke my train of thought because i'm worried about him. the other day he got a nose bleed and that, i assumed, was from my roommate's cat scratching him. then the next morning i woke up and the leather ottoman where he likes to sleep was covered in blood and so was one of his rear paws. i can't imagine a disease that would make the rear paw bleed, but what if it all came from his nose and he was just sleeping curled up in a ball? he wouldn't let me actually check to see if there was a cut there, and i'm not assertive enough to dominate a 12lb house cat (oy, how depressing). otherwise he seems to be acting normal i guess. his nose is cold, he's eating as little as always, he's affectionate, maybe a little less energetic, but i haven't really been home enough to keep proper watch over him. i think i'll watch him over the weekend and then if he's still worrying me on monday i'll take him to a vet. jesus, i'm going to be an overbearing parent. i'll have to remember that you can't be running your kids to the ER every time they randomly start bleeding from some typically unbloody orifice. you simply can not, bleeding sometimes is a part of life. still, i feel like it's my duty to keep him alive for as long as possible because i like having him around and because i adopted him, so i signed a contract agreeing to basically do what i just said.

i have no idea what i'm talking about anymore, i'm too far gone. i'm going to go color or sleep.

water can't read

i watched this DVD last night called "what the %#^@&$ do we know?" i thought it was supposed to be about quantum physics. i rented "the elegant universe" a few months ago and thought it was very interesting. anyway, someone recommended this other one to me when i was drunkenly babbling about string theory one night. sure enough it starts off talking a bit about the subatomic world and blah blah blah. typically science docs are pretty cheesy anyway, but this one is ridiculous. there is a story about a deaf bitch [(and i mean bitch like she's a total asshole, not like the general term for a female as made acceptable by hip hop culture) played by the deaf ball girl character on Seinfeld] who takes anxiety drugs and caught her hubby fucking some other chick (i don't know if the other chick was deaf or not) and she's got this annoying roommate and there's this smug black kid on the quantum basketball court talking about going down a rabbit hole... you catch my drift? it's corny, and it's supposed to go along with all this testimony about some theory that these smart looking people are yapping about. now, i was questioning the "experts" from the get go because the film makers thought it was a good idea to not say who any of them are or give any of their credentials until the end of the movie. totally stupid move because i started thinking they were all quacks about 15 min into it. actually, i still kind of do. but anyway, this movie turns into this new agey stuff about how when you have an emotional reaction to an outside stimuli there is a part of your brain that releases these chemicals (peptides) and they go off into your body and connect with your cells and make your cells take on the attitude of the emotion your released. weird, right? so it goes on to say that your body get addicted to these emotions because your cells start producing more receptors for these certain peptides that you've been feeding them and things snowball from there... you create situations for yourself that will cause your brain to release, say the self pity peptide, so that your cells get their fix.

okay, so normally i'm all about subscribing to stuff like this. i think biofeedback shows promise as an effective way of managing minor psychiatric 'problems' without turning to pharmaceuticals. i'm all about yoga, and even some reflexoloy (i swear to christ, a masseur did this to me and it totally cleared up my sinuses). the brain and the body are both able to effect and even control the other and there are so many things that are still not understood and blah and yadda and everybody knows this shit. but this 'what the (*&(#$^% do we know' theory (which i don't think has a name at all), i don't know. i don't buy it. watching it creeped me out. the whole thing felt like culty jargon, like maybe it was made by a bunch of scientologists. i know a tad about scientology and i don't really think that's what it was, but it was still something evil and it was trying to make me believe in what it believes in and religion has always creeped me out.

there is no point to any of this, but there was one part of the movie that was talking about this japanese dude who took pictures of water molecules and them subjected them to somewhat emotional stimuli and them photographed them again and the molecules were all different. like, one was blessed by a buddhist monk and it turned all fancy and beautiful. that is interesting because there could be some truth to the energy that certain people emit (auras are bullshit, but this could be something a bit more subtle, yes?) but then he wrote words on labels and left those labels facing the water over night and took pictures in the morning. he claims that this too changed the shape of the water. WHAT THE FUCK? i'm sorry, but water can not read PERIOD. so i'm going to try to find some links about this stuff, then i'm going to work.

what a joke

i give this thing a week, tops. i've never been able to keep a journal. one reason is that i'm incredibly lazy. another is that i am awfully forgetful, i'll start to write in one, skip a day, then forget all about it. yet another reason is that nothing really happens in my life and i never make any efforts to cause a stir just for experience's sake. then finally there is the fact that i'm uninspired and not really interested in much for more than a few days. this is beginning to sound like "notes from underground". should i be worried? probably not.

lets see. what to say. i've been writing people i used to know, like from my home town and stuff, a lot lately. i've been writing them these long boring e-mail about nothing much. i'm sure they don't care about the finer points of my life right now. that is what made me think i should maybe start a blog instead of recruiting unwilling therapists to listen to me grip. i sort of hope that no one actually bothers to read this thing because i'm not really writing it to be heard, i'm just writing it because it's easy to pull off doing this at work and since i'm not going to say anything important* no audience is much more humane than a small captive audience. yyyyyyyeah.

blog post #1.




*guaranteed