Aggro Femme

Read it.

5 out of 5.

Thank you, Melissa.

“These noise-oholics. These quiet-ophobics.”

I like to imagine that Chuck wrote this book because he was tired of noise, and according to an interview he did with SuicideGirls.com, he did; cell phones ringing, babies crying, bass booming, and our “true hero,” Carl Streator, just wants them all to cease.

This book was kinda laid out like Fight Club in that you’re not sure who is who and what they want until the end, and it contains many of the same themes; very man-against-self. It’s about power grabbing, as evidenced by everyone’s stereos trying to one up each other, killing people for bumping against you in the street, offing women who wouldn’t look at you once, much less twice, and having sex with them when they can’t say no. And all this is not-so-nicely hidden behind a real-life horroresque story about witches. Culling spells and grimoires and wiccans, oh my. And by real life, I mean Chuck knows how to grab us by the back of the head and make us stare into the mirror. And it’s horror-ble.

“I need to rebel against myself.
It’s the opposite of following your bliss. I need to do what I most fear.”

Interspersed with thought provoking one liners. I liked it. 4 out of 5.

1 - SUCK!
2 - I guess I should at least finish it…
3 - I kinda liked this one.
4 - Love it!
5 - One of my favorites of all time.

Yeah, so the water heater is leaking into my living room, my fuel filter is covered in garbage which leaves me sputtering and dying in the middle of the farkin’ highway (and whomever honked at me, while my car was dead, in the middle of a five lane, FUCK YOU), I work tomorrow, and no one will take my car to the shop to get a new filter. So there’s that bullshit. And here’s another little pearl.

Customer: I want this, this and this. And I’m going to pay with this giftcard.

Me: We don’t accept those gift cards here.

Customer: Why not?! *eyeroll eyeroll whine whine smirk*

Me: Our store doesn’t issue them, therefore we don’t accept them.

Okay look, it’s a gift card. You reload it with money. At the store they ARE received at, it still costs the same damned amount of money. If what you want is $4.01, it’s going to take $4.01 off your gift card. So just crack open your wallet and pay me with good ol’ fashioned cash.

mmmmMUH.

So my brother Jacob told me that people are still posting at a Myspace that used to belong to a friend of ours. By used to, I mean that he’s dead. I thought it was odd, so I looked up a few somethings about eMemorials. There are sites for ememorials to help the living through their grief, sites for soldiers who died in Iraq, and ememorials for pets, of course.

In an episode of the X-Files entitled Killswitch, written by William Gibson (w00t), a couple try to upload their consciousnesses onto the internet. This whole ememorial thing reminds me of that…

…creepy.

Studying the effects of the internet upon sociology and psychology has been an interest of mine since I “plugged in,” but that’s another post, though somehow related. There’s also that new “infomania” thing. But this post is about cell phones.

I generally despise cell phones and the reality of being reached anywhere within reception 24/7. I do enjoy the privacy they afford me, what with not having to share a message receival machine with several people. And for the purpose of not offending all of you, I enjoy talking to my friends.

I had a discussion with someone about my avoidance of phone calls.

Me: “Let them leave a message.”

Them: “You should answer the phone.”

Me: “Why? The fact that they are calling me doesn’t oblige me to stop what I’m doing and answer the phone. And I don’t want to talk to/hang out with/do something for them at the moment anyway.”

Them: “Then you should tell them that.”

I have a feeling this didn’t happen with landlines. People called and left messages, or you answered the phone if you wanted. It seems to me that the fact that we can now be reached anywhere at any time necessitates that we respond anywhere at any time.

And that’s just teh dumb.

So Syd died almost a month ago (July 7th) AND NOBODY TOLD ME.

I made a scene at work when I saw the cover of the Rolling Stone.

R.I.P.

*listens to See Emily Play*