"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

The Internet is Also Like High School

About a year ago when we were living at the old pad with Christina and Miranda, Miranda introduced Frank and I to makeoutclub.com, the premere place to meet indy rockers and emo people online. I got a kick out of it and Miranda -- I think -- made some friends. We kind of equated the whole thing with the parts of Bilzburg we were less than enthusiastic about. When we made the move to the Meek, the guys thought the whole thing was hillarious. We even made ourselves a profile for kicks.

Well, now I'm doing a couple of related jobs for money, constructing community/social sites. I've been seeing what's out there, and there's this: face the jury .com, which is kind of... shocking. It's everything makeoutclub.com is (and more) except seemingly aimed square at the c-students. Your odd cute gothy chick from Australia aside, it seems to be the domain of trixies and rock-hard-abs.

Anyway, it was kind of startling. Most of the people on this site are 2 or more years my junior, and I suppose this is what happened to all those teenagers I used to see who would use email and IM like second-nature, whereas in my day it was somewhat less integrated into mainstream living. The internet is now officially for everything, baby; even popularity contests and flirting. Kind of exciting, too.

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All Apologies

Thanks to Frank, I just now realized that the latest content had not been appearing. Bug fixed. Enjoy the past few days worth of posting. I'm feeing better today healthwise and in general after getting 12 hours sleep and seeing Sasha (who as it happens has a show tonight, 10pm at Sin-e: 148-150 Attorney at Stanton in the LES, plug shill plug).

And while I'm trying to stay clear(er) of politix than I have been in the past few days -- too much stress, I tells ya -- I did find this a welcome addition to the infosphere: rumsfeldlies.com.

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Insert SARS Joke Here

I've fallen ill, as is somewhat traditional after Ren Fayre. It's a long weekend, and I'm apparently not quite on the upswing of recovery. Things are starting to change, rearrange in my mind more. I'm working as well I can considering my compressed cranial state. And until I do and write something of more consequence, go look at Where is Raed. Salam Pax has managed a mega update that spans most of the war. From the horses mouth, people.

Oooh, oh! oh! And in case you just can't get enough of the twins, here's proof they've been supporting terrorism. Come on, you remeber this.

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Let the clutch out easy...

I'm back, but still not quite in action. I slept in very late -- worst travel day ever -- and then managed to go through all my old email and stumble down to Bilzburg for a peacewilliamsburg event. Mainly I went because on my walk back to my house from the airport I saw a flier and noticed that the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players would be there and I've wanted to see them for a while. It was a good evening. I especially liked Jennifer Miller's Allen Ginsburg light bulb eating act and Jeneane Garaffalo's "pushing 40" political satire. She's sharper now (to me) than she's ever been, especially now that she's not exclusively making fun of herself. It's a better performance tactic: let's the audience love you a little more.

The event as a whole was impressive. I still think my generation is going to eat the current crop of gen-xers alive when the chips are down, but these kids are allright.

Also, I've a full grop of tales from my trip to tell you: leaving new york is hard, suck my coolo chica, port wine relaxation, sunny friday breakdown, poop jokes at the trap, puke rock/samba participation, lamp array, the tall fashionista read my website, someone dosed my drink, rome is burning, we're getting old, the blazers always loose, young republicans, dirty and wounded in suburban Portland, and the long trip back.

All that and more over the coming weeks. I'll probably write them up as non-blog pages attached somehow to the previous Ren Fayre reportage.

In addition to that it's time to put the screws to it. There's a ton of work to be done, art to be channeled, friends and love to be made; yep, time get the old praxis machine humming yet again. We've been stalled out for too long here. Pump the gas twice, spark the ignition, let the clutch out easy...

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Quick Check Girl

There's a kind of romance buried within the stinking hung-over puke-crusted heart of punk rock. We dance in circles and fiddle while Rome is burning, and people are too paranoid and unsure of themselves to step out of the trance. It takes five seconds to decide. Lamp-Rey silliness threatens to capsize the whole affair, and I can't seem to spell worth crap. Keep it together. All will be told. It's been a good weekend so far and now the Blazers are on. It's opposite year, so maybe we have a chance.

Comments anyone?

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Ciao Bella

I'm gone to Portland, Ren Fayre bound. I'm sure you'll get by quite allright without me.

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