javier by rikki [monday]
— philip k dick, DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?
[total present shock, reading something so beloved, with such depth, and so overly analyzed. the new empathy box is the new mother box is the new iphone.
a long time ago she asked me if i wanted to go to el cholo in los angeles and i said yes because this is what you do when a pretty woman invites you anywhere and it’s, like, your duty. and we went.
afterward, i’m not certain how we got there - not that i don’t know how to get there, but, you know - but we spent hours tearing through the century city mall (what’s it called now?) on santa monica and it was probably the single best date i’ve ever been on. it reminds me, now, thinking about it, of those terrible john hughes movies, but, only, not the movies themselves because they’re dreck, but how people talk about them, as if they’re the greatest things ever invented. that’s what it reminds me off.
before that mall on santa monica closed that night, we were there, just talking and it was getting so late and we stayed there after, walking through the fake little streets of the outdoor areas. we were not the only people there, and i was, what, like, twenty-four or something like that, probably younger, and she was around thirty. i can’t remember because it was a long time ago.
so long ago and i still remember it more often than i admit. not because this woman was so great and all and all about missed opportunities, no. because it was a pretty damn cool experience. and believe it or not, i use this a barometer of whether or not i’m having a good old time. it’s the first thing that springs to mind whenever i wake up after doing something i think was fun: was it as much fun as that one night so long ago. and most times, the answer is no.
whenever i do go out on a date, i definitely use that memory as a form of measurement.
a little more: this woman was someone i worked with at the time. she was new to work and somehow we got to talking and el cholo came up during a conversation there we are. of course, she didn’t tell me she had a kid until the end of the date, and from what i recall, she was then let go from work for some reason and we never spoke again. i don’t wonder what she’s doing, but i do imagine she remembers that night. i don’t know.
we had drinks yesterday and walked around and through washington square park and had make outs and took pictures and drank too much beer and probably said more to each other than we should have.
an ex co-worker, before i moved here to new york, he gave me some advice. which i sort of took but goes counter my own idea of becoming friends with co-workers. but, wait, this isn’t about that right now…more on that when the time is right, right?
i really enjoy when someone can make me laugh, you know?
anyway, this is all too long already and it isn’t even really what i wanted to jot down, but i am terribly hungover and undernourished and i am wondering if maybe i shouldn’t go home right now and sleep until it’s july. but no. been walking around today with this stupid grin on my face and a throbbing brain, so there you are.
thee silver mt. zion memorial orchestra, WHAT WE LOVED WAS NOT ENOUGH, from the record FUCK OFF GET FREE WE POUR LIGHT ON EVERYTHING
[probably my front runner for favorite track of the year. menuck’s vocals man. mogwai’s REMURDERED is number two, incidentally]
you’d think being single (anachronism!) i wouldn’t ever again have to have relationship-y conversations because they’re boring and unpleasant and joyless.
anyway: i need to stop meeting these boys.
EDIT: probably just need a good fucking.
it’s a two minute walk from the bart. there’s a grocery store right across the street. my smells are largely tolerable. I’m not joking
"my smells are largely tolerable" on my new business cards
PLAYING THE WHORE: THE WORK OF SEX WORK by melissa gira grant
[there are several ideas in this book that made my brain quiver with new thoughts and processes because i hadn’t thought of them before, because i am a slow-witted man. and i think i know things about the world and i clearly do not. but this isn’t about that. this is about you reading the book and seeing, firstly, that all your preconceived notions about people in sex work - especially women - are completely off-base. and that often, those who camping against any type of sex work, or those who see it their life missions to “rescue” women in the sex trade are equally wrong. this is an important book for you because what you think you know is ‘correct’ for everyone is most likely not. the politics of sex work and even feminism are far more intrinsically tied together that to miss this valuable connection does everyone a disservice and could potentially lead would-be allies to become the opposite.
read this book.]
DO NOT GIVE OR GET ANY VACCINATIONS FOR YOURSELF OR YOUR KIDS………..
Ok, lets break this down nice and simple.
Formaldehyde is from the purification of the vaccine. 99.9% of which is removed. The reason it doesn’t give a dosage is the ammount is so minuscule that it can’t be measured without going into picograms. That’s one trillionth of a gram. You breathe in more formaldehyde by driving down a busy road than in a vaccine.
Thimerosal is NOT elemental mercury, It is a molecular compound made up of carbon, hydrogen, mercury, sodium, oxygen, and sulfur. This is used as a preservative for the vaccine. Thimerosal is used in a variety of other things, like tattoo ink, facial creams, nasal sprays. It’s toxic to humans only in fairly large quantities but highly toxic to aquatic born organisms like infectious bacteria. In short, it makes sure you don’t get salmonella from a stray bacteria from the chicken embryos.
As for the dosage of the Thimerosal. That is the most laughable point in this post. It says 25 mcg, that’s micrograms, or one millionth of a gram. To put this in perspective, a dollar bill weighs roughly 1 gram, the average human eyelash is around 80-90 micrograms. The box also says that it contains a 5ml (milliliter/cc) vial which leads me to my next point.
A little simple math and we find out that 25 mcg = 0.00003 ml and a little more math we find that 0.00003 ml is 0.00006% of 5 ml. Let me put this another way. By the age of 5, an American child weighs about 50-55lbs and their body contains 55 mcg of Uranium. I don’t see any kids running around with radiation sickness, so I think they’re safe with a preservative in them.
TL;DR: This is like saying you don’t want your child eating their baked birthday cake because raw eggs were used to make it and you don’t want your child getting salmonella from it.
Excellent commentary. *claps*
Anything is poisonous if we try hard enough. Water, which gives us life, can also kill us in the right amount. That doesn’t mean we should keep our kids from drinking water. Quantity is an important factor and people need to realize that these microscopic amounts cannot possibly cause us harm.
The other day a large bug flew into my mouth. It hit me right in the hangy ball thing and I instinctively swallowed. My first thought was, “Eww, that bug was probably full of bug poop. I just ate a bug’s worth of poop.”
If I had my choice, I would happily trade eating a bug’s worth of poop for 0.00003 ml of Thimerosal.
"a bug’s worth of poop" is my new favorite phrase!!
the other day, without wanting to, i saw a co-worker’s pay stub. it was a little unnerving because that is one of the things about work that i’m genuinely private about: regardless of whatever any co-worker makes, you will always be angry about it afterward. after this, however, i felt infinitely better about myself because i am, at heart, one of those guys who sees his work as value and the last i’ll say about this is i’m valuable.
i’m terrible aren’t i?
a little less than a month ago, a woman from work killed herself. a lot of folk were devastated, naturally. my father lost a sister and a brother in the last forty days. i haven’t really been personally been affected by death in my life. always a sort of distance between me and that. so much so, that even when i considered suicide in my younger years, or even a few years ago when i thought i was surely dying, it wasn’t ever really something concrete, you know? like the very cliche, death is just a specter and i don’t believe in those things. but when the time comes, i already think i’m ready.
molly crabapple & warren ellis in conversation in nyc next month.
sort of living with this constant fear that i’m not doing things correctly. like when you’re hired for a job and you’re given every tool and resource and all of that to perform it accurately and efficiently, but you still think you’re missing steps. only, imagine this feeling every morning. but what is correct other than your jeans fitting exactly the way you want?
everyone keeps asking me how i like new york and my immediate answer so far is that i love it. but that’s the thing, i keep being asked this by the same people and i wonder if they want to hear that i’m hating it so their jealousy is mitigated somewhat.
the other day, my boss let me leave early (and she gave me today off!!) and i went walking through lower manhattan for a while. since i’ve been here, i’ve not made time to explore the city because i’m weirdly introverted and i don’t like strangers talking to me and crowds are full of farts. but off i went. over the last three days i’ve not been at work for maybe a total of sixteen hours, and i’m drinking coffee right now in tribeca (i think). got a text message last night from co-worker/friend last night that says “miss you friend” and i wonder how this is possible because i’m not as sentimental and we’ve only known each other a month and i don’t really miss him because we see each other daily at work. so, i’m going to keep wandering the city on my own.
i don’t know what to think about douglas coupland’s WORST. PERSON. EVER. it’s so funny and gross and if it’s about coupland coming to terms how horrible his generation is and how unlikely the proceeding one has all this potential but for television and the internet. i don’t know if i liked it.
The explanation for everything lies hidden behind the beautiful forevers.
My beautiful, brilliant sister composed this bit of shelf poetry for me this morning.
I don’t normally post things like this here, but I am doing this for her, and for our mother and for everyone who has struggled with, or lost someone they love to cancer.
My sister is participating in Relay For Life, as she has done for many years now, and is looking for support and donations.
In her words:
"I have seen cancer take the life and vitality of too many amazing people. And then, just nine days before Christmas 2013, my mother passed away after a year-long struggle with lung cancer. She was just 65.
I’m terrified that cancer will destroy me. I’m terrified that it will destroy you.
Participating in this relay is my own quiet, pre-emptive war against the cancer that I fear lies in wait for too many of us. I hope you can help in this fight.”
If you are interested in making a donation, please visit her profile at this link.