June 19, 2004

There was a spider in my room last night. It's a mystery how something not fully the size of my thumb can inspire enough terror to back me out of the room at large. At times in the past I would have gone to the couch for sleep rather than brave the bedroom again. This time, however, I was insulted. I'm afraid of spiders, yes. But is the fear contained in an inch of creeping legs and body enough to keep me from all the joys and comforts of my own room? I enlisted the aid of my cat, Poe, in driving the intruder out. As I threw myself backwards onto my many duvets and pillows with a happy sigh, Josh Groban crooning in the flickering candlelight, I knew I had won. One tiny fight but it felt like a war.

A thimble of fear is not enough to keep me from the unknown beauty that lies beyond the scope of what I can see. I will not dig into the familiar at the expense of the undiscovered just for the sake of comfort. That fresh grass perfume of spring rain only comes after the downpour. I need to know what lies past my doorstep. Fear is my motivator in this, as in all things. I stubbornly refuse to open my hands and let life sift through my fingers unexplored. Whatever handfuls of the vast mystery I can grab and weave into my experience, I want. I want it with every fibre of my being.

To just be is not enough.

To live is the only answer.

June 17, 2004

SQUEE! Look what I made! A vampire goddess.

And if I could remember where or how I did it, I'd tell you.
But for now all I can say is... I'M MAGIC.

*sprinkles vampire pixie dust around the Crypt*
*squints and next attempts to conjure an Elf playdate*

June 15, 2004

Second Edition

Okay, so we missed the weekend publication deadline due to printing issues. Or laziness. Or the Oompa-Loompas went on strike. BASTARDS! *shakes fist* But we're back with the highly-anticipated Pop Gods Issue. Hopefully readership of this second edition will double from last week - two is better than one! Especially if I promise not to mention Troy. Oops! Too late.

The Pop Gods Issue

As Michael Jackson spirals ever downward into the cloudy murk at the bottom of the lagoon (no coincidence he's starting to look like a bottom-feeder fish at the same time), the world sort of collectively clung to the happy notion that sister Janet was the "normal" Jackson. Boobgate notwithstanding. Janet has always been a beacon of normalcy in the troubled Jackson clan. Until now. Janet, in a recent Blender magazine interview, finally let her true nature show. Apparently a young Janet grew up with a fevered crush on... no, not Kirk Cameron. That would have been NORMAL. She had a crush on Barry Manilow. But that's not actually the strange part. According to Janet, she had a sexual mind at a young age (she cites kissing the TV screen when Barry Manilow was on as proof of this) but that now, as an adult, she expresses such grown-up urges differently: namely through an alter-ego named Strawberry. Strawberry is the sexual one, the wild one. If you cross her, however, she won't get mad. She'll just call out Damita Jo. That's the personality inside Janet who deals with the tough stuff - the harsh one. Okay... there's only so much Jackson I can take... I mean... my HEAD. I'm going to have Lemon Zinger continue this post so I can take a break. On the plus side, however, Janet joins an exclusive and chart-topping group of equally troubled artists. Christina Aguilera and Garth Brooks, meet your new friend Janet. Or Xtina and Chris Gaines, meet your new friend Strawberry.

From the NSync Files...

--> No more pesky break-up rumours about Justin Timberlake and Cameron Diaz, okay? They're currently holed up in a cozy Melbourne, Australia hotel room where Justin is set to embark on an Aussie tour in support of his (kickass) album Justified. So stop already. Just because you think Cameron's hot doesn't mean Justin is going to leave her to make you happy. And vice versa, girls.

--> Lance Bass is doing nothing. NOTHING, I REPEAT, NOTHING! His website ("Why do we even HAVE this website?") has been on a signal loop for months now. Adrift. Then again, what do you want from him? Isn't being Curious George enough?

--> JC Chasez just wrapped a European tour with Britney Spears and is now opening for her North American Onyx Hotel tour dates. And in other news, no, he still doesn't know what "schizophrenic" means. Hint: it isn't Janet.

He's absolutely not pop but Marilyn Manson is giving his royal grotesque treatment to one of the euro-pop/new wave anthems of the 80s for his upcoming Greatest Hits album. The Antichrist Superstar will record a cover of Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus. I wonder if I could cram any more unintentional irony into that sentence?

June 14, 2004

(And not the kind Orlando wears under Paris' skirt, either.)

The Very Secret Diaries of Troy have reached their conclusion. To avoid their eventual slide into the unarchived abyss, rustyangel has been kind enough to offer them refugee status over at clear/AIR. You can find the Diaries main page here. And while you're at it, check out the bloody sidebar links to view pictures created especially by rustyangel to celebrate each entry.

I saw The Chronicles of Riddick on Saturday. I know reviewers disliked it a lot but my guess is that they weren't going for the right reasons. Here's why I went...
1. To see Vin Diesel and all his rippled muscles sweat and kill things.
2. To see Karl Urban and the world's sexiest mohawk brood intensely and kill things.
3. To see the moody atmosphere of another planet on which death is imminent.
4. To see Thandie Newton chew scenery in a campy-gorgeous role opposite Karl Urban's brooding intensity.
5. Did I mention Vin?

On all the above counts, Riddick excelled and then some. Vin and his muscles sweated and killed things. Karl and his hot mohawk brooded and killed things. There was moody atmosphere galore on several planets. Thandie Newton chewed scenery opposite Karl's intensity. And of course, Vin. I loved it! What's not to love? I loved it! Plot? Yes, indeed. Vin Diesel is an anti-hero who does not want to save people. He wants to kill them. Karl works for the bad guy who is half-dead and making every planet in his path half or all-dead too. Vin starts killing the half-dead guys, thus making him a good guy. And much muscley brooding intensity follows. *applause*

From the I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Files...

My beloved Orlando Bloom is too Elven for his own good. I know, I know --> words you never thought you'd hear me say. But ALAS, on the set of his latest film, the Ridley Scott helmed Kingdom of Heaven, Orli-love has been forced to sport a chest wig to make him... well... more Moroccan? I won't say manly. Though images of Paris in eyeliner are bombarding my retinas as I squeeze my eyes shut in fits of laughter. More Balian of Ibelin and less Legolas, we'll say. Man, I don't make this stuff up. I'm good but I'm not completely nuts. Read it yourself. (And thanks to Homie for the link.)