LIP SERVICE IS ALL YOU'LL EVER GET FROM ME
I'm having one of those spells where you think you can say everything to everybody in the form of a mixtape. (Okay, I'm a fucking nerd, SPARE ME YOUR WRATH.) Anyway, there's a rotating roster of boys who don't know the real truth of my love, and they all seem to be needing a little jump start, a little staring contest, a little idea of what this headspace is like. Usually I accomplish this in step one, the all-night conversation, which is admittedly my weapon of choice. Because after you've heard my sob story from high school, my most recent drama, and the admittance that I am in fact, wooing you by talking until you break down and kiss me, you can't help but comply. But what to do when said boy is not on the premesis? What to do when there are certain spoken and unspoken things that keep all of this from ever, ever being nailed down or even real? My point is this: it's tough to have a crush. Much less five, eight, or ten.

But mixtapes . . . hey, it isn't my fault that I opened with a song about holding hands, a song about cheating, a song including a disgustingly emotional alto saxophone solo, or a song whose bridge is full of synths and goes, "Come on angel, come on come on darling, let's exchange the experience, ooohhhhh hoo." Especially when everybody knows that the real emotional center of the song doesn't hit until halfway through side B. Lip service, indeed.

LIP SERVICE IS ALL YOU'LL EVER GET FROM ME
I'm having one of those spells where you think you can say everything to everybody in the form of a mixtape. (Okay, I'm a fucking nerd, SPARE ME YOUR WRATH.) Anyway, there's a rotating roster of boys who don't know the real truth of my love, and they all seem to be needing a little jump start, a little staring contest, a little idea of what this headspace is like. Usually I accomplish this in step one, the all-night conversation, which is admittedly my weapon of choice. Because after you've heard my sob story from high school, my most recent drama, and the admittance that I am in fact, wooing you by talking until you break down and kiss me, you can't help but comply. But what to do when said boy is not on the premesis? What to do when there are certain spoken and unspoken things that keep all of this from ever, ever being nailed down or even real? My point is this: it's tough to have a crush. Much less five, eight, or ten.

But mixtapes . . . hey, it isn't my fault that I opened with a song about holding hands, a song about cheating, a song including a disgustingly emotional alto saxophone solo, or a song whose bridge is full of synths and goes, "Come on angel, come on come on darling, let's exchange the experience, ooohhhhh hoo." Especially when everybody knows that the real emotional center of the song doesn't hit until halfway through side B. Lip service, indeed.

I WANTED TO BE WITH YOU ALONE
I haven't needed any sunglasses for a week until today. Also, it seems like fall weather is starting to start (starting to start? nice one, dummo!). This morning I wore my brown velvet jacket in addition to a ratty black sweater and red t-shirt. All in all, oh too reminiscent of last semester right after my heart broke and I was into looking all harrowed and rumpled, reading Foucault and Derrida, my red umbrella always jutting out jauntily under my arm. Who can believe that I'm a little nostalgic for that period? But anything that happens enters that realm sooner or later, I guess.

So, I joined Friendster today. And even though I haven't added anybody to my friends list, I'm connected to almost a thousand people. Yeah, it's crazy. I have to thank Scotto for doing all of the legwork for me (and I mean all, because he's the one who invited me and stuff). Come on, he knows Iggy Pop! Or knows somebody who knows Iggy Pop. Or rather, some schmuck who's using "Iggy Pop" as his screen name. Like, whatevs.

STUPID FRESH
So, I taught an intro writing class today, and as much as I had hoped it would be kind of fun, it was really hard to get any reaction out of these kids beyond a stifled giggle or similar. At least they didn't feud with one another the way they do the rest of the time (according to the prof). So yeah, I hope to be asked back. I would definitely be down with that, especially if I have the chance to get to know some of these kids better.

That's the only thing I've done today, but it definitely wore me out a bit. And yet, I'm going to be on campus until 11:00! Damn these late library hours. Maybe I can be productive and get something fun (like depositing paychecks!) out of the way.

TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER
Yesterday was the ultimate lazy summer Saturday. Slept in, cleaned a little, saw Chiwaseon at the Harris Theater (about the 19th century Korean painter Jang Seung-up) and it was AWESOME. Instead of trying to force his life into a typical narrative structure, it just put out the whole thing. I love the epics, especially gorgeous, amazingly-rendered ones. The Harris is a quality place. Every time I'm there I want to kick myself for missing so many of the films that come through. Afterwards we got some pizza at Mineo's and went to a party in Squirrel Hill. Maybe it's just the beer-soaked nature of such get-togethers, but I'm feeling so much love for Pittsburgh right now. So many sweet people, so much good talk. Oh, we're bonding for sure. SUMMER '03 started out as a caricature of the perfect summer, but now it's real. The glassy eyes are coming to life and yes, I've sat on my front steps and talked until the sprinklers came on, until the lights go up, until the paper boy throws the morning news over my head and against my doorstep.