Fannie Hurst, writer
Be interesting, find things that make you an interesting person, and don't be afraid to pass them on to people.
Brian Lamb, C-SPAN founder
I would rather fail in an attempt at something new and uncharted than safely succeed in a repeat of something I have done.
A.E. Hotchner, biographer
When you reach for the stars, you may not quite get one, but you won't come up with a handful of mud either.
Leo Burnett, ad man
Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place but, far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.
Benjamin Franklin, statements and lover of many Frenchwomen
Risk the fall in order to fly.
Karen Goldman, writer
I have had so little to say these past few months. I haven't known quite what to do with myself or this blog. Life has not been good and the unhappiness has been building inside me to unbearable levels. I find myself disinterested in all the usual things that I used to write so much about.
Odd things are rolling around inside my head lately. Obviously the departure of Steph of Australia has left me reeling. I'm afraid I have emailed her to death in some sort of desperate attempt at maintaining a window into a world that seems somehow magical from where I sit.
"What are you doing? So, what color socks are you wearing? No socks? Oh, I guess that makes sense. Those kind of shoes wouldn't look good with socks. So what are you doing now? So you have a sister and a brother? Do you think they would talk to me if I emailed them? Maybe they could start a blog? So what are you doing now? Oh sorry, didn't mean to bother you in the bathroom. Are you watching TV? Is Kylie mad at me? So what are you doing now?"
Clearly I'm not the only one who finds the lives of both Steph and Kylie fascinating. The entire world comes knocking on their doors just hoping for an update. I found myself wondering just this morning what Kylie is going to do when Steph has gone off and settled down. Will she be upset? Will she be lonely? Will she marry that Irish boy? Wouldn't their lives make a great TV show? It'd sure beat most of the crap on TV these days. Hell, Desperate Housewives has nothing on the adventures of Kylie lately. And I can't think of a single TV personality more lovable than Steph.
Have you ever read their writings? Oh Lord, if not then you're missing out on the best of the best.
Anyway, this being on the road thing is killing me. My diet has turned to shit. I can't run far enough or high enough to burn off this fat. It just keeps coming in one unhealthy meal after another. And there is never enough time to sleep. Maybe it's lack of sleep that has sent my emotions into a kind of middle-school-girl-on-perpetual-period chaos? Whatever it is, I can't take much more of this. I'm all over the map with what I'm feeling. 'Empty' isn't a strong enough word.
Some American fools in the news the other day set their friend's genitals on fire while he was passed out from drinking. Clearly they had seen enough of this sort of 'comedy' on TV and in the movies to think it would be funny and yet somehow totally harmless. Judging from what you see on television and in the movies, you can do almost anything to a man's genitalia and it'll all just bounce back as good as new without any consequences whatsoever, much like in the cartoons. Misandric sexual violence is TV gold and a staple of the Walt Disney Corporation, so it should come as no surprise when people imitate what they see over and over and over, although all too often with rather disastrous consequences for the real-life victim. Ah well, just so long as the FCC is making sure Janet Jackson never shows another plastic breast during the Superbowl I guess all is well. That man didn't need his genitals anyway. No harm done. No need to prohibit this kind of thing from airing on prime time television or up the rating of a movie from PG to R over a little thing like sexual violence and abuse. Just keep blocking those boobies, by God, before it corrupts the children!
Oil is up. Oil is down. Oil is up. Oil is down. This reminds me of a song Don Henley sang a long-assed time ago, "kick'em while they're up, kick'em while they're down". I don't know why. The two are totally unrelated. Such is the state of my brain right now. Random connections are forming that shouldn't be.
How far and how fast does a man have to run to escape from all his troubles? I just need to know because my running shoes are getting a little worn and I'm thinking about buying a new pair. With all this running I keep blogging about (due to my utter lack of anything else going on in my life) some people have gotten the impression that I must be in great shape and looking mighty fine. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I were looking mighty fine I wouldn't be working this hard. It's the ugly I see in the mirror that pushes me to attack those mountains, as if defeating them will make me look and feel better. It actually does make me feel better for a short time. But I look pretty much the same. Well, my feet are bloody and I smell like sweaty ass, but other than that I'm exactly like I was before.
I went with some friends to see "The Dark Knight" two nights ago. I wonder if the guy who plays Batman gets paid extra for tearing up his vocal chords with that overly exaggerated "Dirty Harry" voice he has to do while in the Batman costume? It wouldn't be so noticeable, and I wouldn't have started laughing at the most inappropriate times during the film, if he didn't speak normally while being Bruce Wayne. I'm sure the comic book crowd could theorize a million perfectly logical explanations for why he might need to do this, but that doesn't make it any less funny to me. Oh, and no cell phones during the fucking movie means no text messages either, asshole. Thanks for fucking blinding me when your messages came in and you just HAD to check them right then and there.
It's really a shame that Heath Ledger died. I still hear the "he killed himself" talk going around as people were moving in and out of the movie theater. No he didn't. It was just bad medicine, which brings to mind another old song, I believe by Bon Jovi or some such hair band. Anyway, I felt that Heath played the Joker as a New York city homeless drug addict. I feel sure he studied some addict somewhere to get that character just right. He had it all down, from the tongue to the shuffle to the nasty hair. It really was a great job he did with that role.
I am upset. I am so upset. I am beyond upset. This funk, this depression, this despair or whatever it is has positively exploded following Steph's announcement that she is closing her blog and leaving us behind. There is so much already building and pressing on me that I think this has been almost like an atom bomb to me. I can't express how upset I am adequately enough. I feel almost panicked.
And now for something pathetic and sad ...
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