Tonight

Apr. 10th, 2009 05:58 pm
radfrac_archive_full: (ask me ask me ask me)
Invited ! to art opening of printmaker we both admire. Found announcement on the web after much sleuthing, discarding of less fascinating options. Proud of my research skills. Sadly will miss punk rock show at infoshop, but what can be done?

here's how the salt stick turned out. )

More quartz than diamond. Probably I should let it keep growing, but -- can't wait any longer. As it is I've already hinted about it, which I didn't want to do.

I think I'll experiment with some other salt objects. I like the effect.

Nervous.

{rf}
radfrac_archive_full: (And you wonder...)
Oddly, there seem to be no online instructions for creating a Stendhalian crystallized branch.

I therefore have invented a method, which, like most first methods, is wrong in many respects. It occurred to me after some investigation that the instructions for creating a salt garden might do very well, minus the bluing. That is how I discovered my vast overkill in terms of salt and indeed water -- a few teaspoons of each is all that's required.

Nevertheless -- It's working! )

Every time I see him, he brings me chocolate, and he brought me the book (on Being a Tranny) and the postcard of Emma Goldman, and he always pays for the movies and the coffee.

I was just beginning to notice the edge of that panicky but-I-didn't-get-you-anything feeling, and then I thought -- why not concretely represent this process that evidently has set itself underway? And the reference is from his period. I hope he recognizes it. I hope he isn't embarrassed for me.

It's the fault of the movie. Had we not gone, we would not have seen Slavoj Žižek waving his counterintuitions about in a landfill.

We would not have found ourselves, in the midst of a movie about ethical philosophy, suddenly listening together to a short Stendhalian lecture about the nature of love.

I would not have been sitting very still and self-aware in a darkened movie theatre, wondering if it would be entirely the wrong thing to lean my bone-cradled cerebellum on his flesh-sheathed shoulderblade, deciding ultimately against it, but thinking, all the way home, about salt.

{rf}
radfrac_archive_full: (And you wonder...)
It's like this.

Here was my plan for the day:
Go to class
Study all afternoon
Proceed to that-which-might-be-a-date* from campus

Here is what has complicated this plan.

Remember Drunk Skinhead Guy (DSG)? The one who did the presentation on early skinheads and slammed two cans of Guinness in the process?

The Byzantine assignment structure of our course had us turn in a draft of our final paper early and submit it to a peer for review. This was done in-class via mass scrum popularity contest.

I stuck up my head to see if I could catch the eye of either of the people I knew from the Gothic course, both dead clever -- when Glam Guy called me by name, "Frac!" -- but then, seeing my eyes on another, said, "Ah, damn," and immediately hooked up with DSG instead.

I was startled to be known and even desired academically, and so lost my original chance of a nice clean paper hookup. I also didn't catch the eye of the Gothic woman. So boldly (well, boldly for me) I got up, crossed over to the group, and negotiated.

And when I say negotiated, I mean "Stood about for a bit, then thrust my paper at Glam Guy and mumbled urgently."

Result was that Glam Guy got my paper, DSG got Glam Guy's paper, and I (Punk, if you recall) got Drunk Skinhead's paper.

There's an interesting musico-historical intertextuality to all that.

Anyway, all pleasingly arranged. Or So It Would Seem.

DSG looked shifty and said he'd have to email me his paper. I said sure, giving myself points for flexibility. I reasoned he'd probably get it to me late -- Saturday, maybe -- but that I had the time, what with being a Person of Such Massive Cleverness that He Was Very Nearly Chosen by Glam Guy.

Nothing Friday. Nothing Saturday. Nothing Sunday. By Nothing Monday, my cool was badly dented, but I figured he'd bring it to me in class.

Then DSG didn't turn up for class.

I wasn't going to say anything in class -- maybe go ask the prof afterwards what to do -- but the prof kept asking if we had any more questions about the reviews, and finally I admitted, in some embarrassment, that I hadn't received mine yet. Naming no names.

He boggled a bit, overtly at the other student, possibly at my stupidity. Two other people volunteered to let me do reviews for them instead. So that was all right.

Then, Tuesday morning, DSG emails me his paper.

I ended up reviewing that, because everyone is supposed to have one done or they can't finish the course, and I'm just that beautiful a soul.

First I let him sweat for a while by not answering his email or indicating that I'd received the paper.

I guess it worked. Today in class he brought me a plastic bag, containing:

1. A miniature keg of Heineken (8L)
and
2. Four cans of Guinness

To show there were no hard feelings, I cracked two of them and we toasted.

That left me, post-class, with two unopened cans of Guinness, one mostly full open can, and a keg. I have no car.

I put the keg and the unopened cans into the plastic bag. The opened can I carried in my hand, the foaming gap concealed. I slung my backpack over the opposite shoulder. I carried this lot to the bookstore, where I wrapped the keg and unopened cans in my coat and stuffed the whole bundle into a storage cubby. The keg just fit in upright. I shoved it to the back.

Then I had to find somewhere on campus you could pour out a can of Guinness without evoking outrage. The idea of drinking before noon has a pleasing decadence, and on any other day I might have gone ahead, but QED, today I was planning a day of sober studying followed by my maybedate, and the last thing I want is a beer. I haven't even had coffee yet.

The question now, sitting in the university library, is: do I ask the date if he minds driving my keg home first? It might break the ice.

{rf}

*Or not a date. This will pivot on whether he also turns up in a sweatervest.
radfrac_archive_full: (Default)
I feel like a real Scorpio again for the first time in I don't know how long.

Spent hyperbolic amounts of money this week. It would be alarming if it weren't so right. Two major purchases: yesterday, a 3-month Hot Yoga membership, $187, and Saturday, attendance at the kink conference/play party, $150.

Which: WORTH EVERY DIME.

Yoga was also excellent.

{rf}

admission

Mar. 16th, 2008 11:47 am
radfrac_archive_full: (Ben Butley)
Having seen it twice now, once in period costume in Vancouver and once set in contemporary Hollywood here at the Phoenix, I may be forced to conclude that I find "The School for Scandal"... kind of boring.

I know how that sounds, but there it is.

{rf}

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