SD (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} maestermajora) wrote,@ 2006-07-14 21:12:00 |
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Blessed
Thursday...
Ah, the little Asian bitch that is my sister. She was the recepient of much verbal punishment today, all of which she thoroughly deserved. She committed sloth, neglect, and insubordination. Granted, I do all three of these on a flamboyant daily basis, but I can overlook my own flaws, because I am fucking full of myself.
Piano lesson in the morning today. Luba and I sightread Mozart's second Symphony in G minor, arranged for four hands. The Waldstein is finally progressing. I don't quite have the technique needed for the leetness of it, but hey, I never have the leetness required to play any of my pieces, and look how I turned out!
... Shut up.
In any case, I had this epiphany today, and I scrambled to write it down, about Beethoven. If Pathetique be the Sonata of the Deranged God, I thought to myself, then Waldstein is the Sonata of Heaven's Light. Or some sort of... pristine, really clean hymn. The E major section really does emit a "holy" aura to me. And no, this is not the first time that this particular epiphany has occurred to me, but it's the first time that it's lasted long enough for me to record it, so enjoy the old news.
The California bitches contacted me today. Multiple people crowded around one computer are always deathly irritating to me.
Finished Crest of the Stars. The action segments, not the focus of the series, tended to wear a little, and the space action left me, as they say, in the space dust, but the character interaction and overall calming effect of the series kept its integrity. Burned it onto a DVD, freeing up 3.11GB on the torrenting computer. I guess I'll be watching Banner of the Stars, eventually. But I do need to watch that damn first episode of NHK!.
After completing my download of Pulp Fiction on Monday, I finally watched the movie today. It is fucking hilarious. I guess that most people have seen the movie, but it was my first time, and ignoring any serious messages that Tarantino may or may not have tried to convey, it is a great surface-value comedy. It got a little gruesome, but hey, it's Pulp Fiction.
What happened here was a MIRACLE, and I want you to fuckin' ACKNOWLEDGE it!
Friday...
The morn was volunteer work, per usual. Once again, the special forces allocated me to the "N6TR" room to be people's lapdog. Among the numerous petty chores that I did was the request for blood. I carried a large cooler labeled "Human Blood" downstairs to the "Blood Bank." On my hands were latex gloves, rather than the abominable plastic gloves. Rather than sweating clammily like a motherfucker, my hands suffocated, and removing the spandex left a stinging sensation that remained for a half hour after exposure.
The path down the "laboratory wing" of the hospital is white with fancy decorations on the wall, a complex. To describe each detail is beyond my ability, but it was extremely medical and scientific. Labyrinth-like, too, with various chambers, trapdoors, and paths leading to no-man's land. On the door to the Blood Bank itself is a piece of poster-board with neat cutouts of attractive blue-eyed men, famous for big-screen and small-screen appearances. Prime among them is the smug mug of Gregory House, M.D.
The practices of medicine are amazing, really. The blood sample sits in a plastic case with plastic tubing. The assisting nurse, wearing plastic gloves, places the case into a plastic bag and seals the entire package in a plastic cooler, which I hold with the Devilish latex gloves. Nothing protects a fellow like more plastic!!
Anyway, a squat, unattractive woman strode into the N6TR, where the hospital had situated me. The N6TR is far less mobile than transport department, and I provide company not to a bunch of kids my own age but... well, squat, unattractive women.
The woman walked in and said, "Hi, I'm Carol," in a voice that was so close to the one in the Saturday Night Live kit that it jolted me from my Hemingway to doublecheck her identity. She started chatting up one of the two women working a N6TR, speaking of her departmental woes very matter-of-factly. She made a probing inquiry into the N6TR woman's hours, role in the wing, history, and received a response. The intruder began to speak of being understaffed; she explained hours, the need for experience, lower pay but better "benefits," no weekend working - speaking right over the protests and questions of her victim. She left without answering the questions, Office Space-style.
And as she left, there was an awkward minute's silence before the other woman in N6TR, who was thusfar uninvolved in the conversation, began to explain why it was so necessary that her partner stay in N6TR. The conversation was really pathetic. This is corporate America. Department Wars. Livin' Large.
Reviewing my notes on Pulp Fiction, I found that I'd noted this particular scene as "amazing." Vincent, dating Marsellus Wallace's wife, enjoys the breaks in conversation, while Mrs. Wallace prefers to keep talking. Then the wife stands up and says, "I'm going to go to the bathroom. You sit there and think of something to say." I swear that I've heard those words before, but I'm not quite sure where or when. *shrugs*
I came home from the hospital, and the heat wave began. Again, thank God that there is more ventilation in my house now. I watched four or five episodes of the fabled Full Metal Alchemist. The characters, their interactions, and their general mannerisms are all so damn shounen. So far, it seems by and large unoriginal and rather predictable, but watching the events unfold is still fair fun, and I look forward to seeing more of Hughes.
The other thing of note I watched today was the introduction to Welcome to the NHK! It's a new anime series, and from its Pilot episode alone, I can tell that it's gonna kick serious ass. Talk about satirical... The series begins with what looks like a psychologically disturbed dream... which turns out to be just that - a psychologically disturbed dream. But this man is no mere psycho killer or heart-of-gold guy with disturbed past...
... He's a twenty-two-year-old, unemployed college dropout who lives in fears of conspiracies and losing his electric bill. Bullies scared him into hiding in his apartment for a week. The sight of a high school girl, however, sets the chap out and about, looking for a job in the desolate quandry of conspiracy Japan. Welcome to the fucking NHK indeed.
Finally, in the last of today's anime news, I burned the first subbed disc in Kenshin of three.
And in the last of any other form of news, Final Fantasy owned Diablo today. Not good news.
Thursday...
Ah, the little Asian bitch that is my sister. She was the recepient of much verbal punishment today, all of which she thoroughly deserved. She committed sloth, neglect, and insubordination. Granted, I do all three of these on a flamboyant daily basis, but I can overlook my own flaws, because I am fucking full of myself.
Piano lesson in the morning today. Luba and I sightread Mozart's second Symphony in G minor, arranged for four hands. The Waldstein is finally progressing. I don't quite have the technique needed for the leetness of it, but hey, I never have the leetness required to play any of my pieces, and look how I turned out!
... Shut up.
In any case, I had this epiphany today, and I scrambled to write it down, about Beethoven. If Pathetique be the Sonata of the Deranged God, I thought to myself, then Waldstein is the Sonata of Heaven's Light. Or some sort of... pristine, really clean hymn. The E major section really does emit a "holy" aura to me. And no, this is not the first time that this particular epiphany has occurred to me, but it's the first time that it's lasted long enough for me to record it, so enjoy the old news.
The California bitches contacted me today. Multiple people crowded around one computer are always deathly irritating to me.
Finished Crest of the Stars. The action segments, not the focus of the series, tended to wear a little, and the space action left me, as they say, in the space dust, but the character interaction and overall calming effect of the series kept its integrity. Burned it onto a DVD, freeing up 3.11GB on the torrenting computer. I guess I'll be watching Banner of the Stars, eventually. But I do need to watch that damn first episode of NHK!.
After completing my download of Pulp Fiction on Monday, I finally watched the movie today. It is fucking hilarious. I guess that most people have seen the movie, but it was my first time, and ignoring any serious messages that Tarantino may or may not have tried to convey, it is a great surface-value comedy. It got a little gruesome, but hey, it's Pulp Fiction.
What happened here was a MIRACLE, and I want you to fuckin' ACKNOWLEDGE it!
Friday...
The morn was volunteer work, per usual. Once again, the special forces allocated me to the "N6TR" room to be people's lapdog. Among the numerous petty chores that I did was the request for blood. I carried a large cooler labeled "Human Blood" downstairs to the "Blood Bank." On my hands were latex gloves, rather than the abominable plastic gloves. Rather than sweating clammily like a motherfucker, my hands suffocated, and removing the spandex left a stinging sensation that remained for a half hour after exposure.
The path down the "laboratory wing" of the hospital is white with fancy decorations on the wall, a complex. To describe each detail is beyond my ability, but it was extremely medical and scientific. Labyrinth-like, too, with various chambers, trapdoors, and paths leading to no-man's land. On the door to the Blood Bank itself is a piece of poster-board with neat cutouts of attractive blue-eyed men, famous for big-screen and small-screen appearances. Prime among them is the smug mug of Gregory House, M.D.
The practices of medicine are amazing, really. The blood sample sits in a plastic case with plastic tubing. The assisting nurse, wearing plastic gloves, places the case into a plastic bag and seals the entire package in a plastic cooler, which I hold with the Devilish latex gloves. Nothing protects a fellow like more plastic!!
Anyway, a squat, unattractive woman strode into the N6TR, where the hospital had situated me. The N6TR is far less mobile than transport department, and I provide company not to a bunch of kids my own age but... well, squat, unattractive women.
The woman walked in and said, "Hi, I'm Carol," in a voice that was so close to the one in the Saturday Night Live kit that it jolted me from my Hemingway to doublecheck her identity. She started chatting up one of the two women working a N6TR, speaking of her departmental woes very matter-of-factly. She made a probing inquiry into the N6TR woman's hours, role in the wing, history, and received a response. The intruder began to speak of being understaffed; she explained hours, the need for experience, lower pay but better "benefits," no weekend working - speaking right over the protests and questions of her victim. She left without answering the questions, Office Space-style.
And as she left, there was an awkward minute's silence before the other woman in N6TR, who was thusfar uninvolved in the conversation, began to explain why it was so necessary that her partner stay in N6TR. The conversation was really pathetic. This is corporate America. Department Wars. Livin' Large.
Reviewing my notes on Pulp Fiction, I found that I'd noted this particular scene as "amazing." Vincent, dating Marsellus Wallace's wife, enjoys the breaks in conversation, while Mrs. Wallace prefers to keep talking. Then the wife stands up and says, "I'm going to go to the bathroom. You sit there and think of something to say." I swear that I've heard those words before, but I'm not quite sure where or when. *shrugs*
I came home from the hospital, and the heat wave began. Again, thank God that there is more ventilation in my house now. I watched four or five episodes of the fabled Full Metal Alchemist. The characters, their interactions, and their general mannerisms are all so damn shounen. So far, it seems by and large unoriginal and rather predictable, but watching the events unfold is still fair fun, and I look forward to seeing more of Hughes.
The other thing of note I watched today was the introduction to Welcome to the NHK! It's a new anime series, and from its Pilot episode alone, I can tell that it's gonna kick serious ass. Talk about satirical... The series begins with what looks like a psychologically disturbed dream... which turns out to be just that - a psychologically disturbed dream. But this man is no mere psycho killer or heart-of-gold guy with disturbed past...
... He's a twenty-two-year-old, unemployed college dropout who lives in fears of conspiracies and losing his electric bill. Bullies scared him into hiding in his apartment for a week. The sight of a high school girl, however, sets the chap out and about, looking for a job in the desolate quandry of conspiracy Japan. Welcome to the fucking NHK indeed.
Finally, in the last of today's anime news, I burned the first subbed disc in Kenshin of three.
And in the last of any other form of news, Final Fantasy owned Diablo today. Not good news.
